Books. Music. Theatre. Teaching and learning. Doing one's part to help create a better Philippines.
Thursday, November 30, 2023
Book Review: A MEMOIR OF MY FORMER SELF by Hilary Mantel
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
"George Orwell (there’s a man who might interest you) said that every life, viewed from the inside, is a series of defeats. I would amplify that, say it is a series of enforced compromises, slippages from our own standard: shabby little sins."
Few authors are able to completely submerge readers into the Past. Mantel did so with her Wolf Hall trilogy and that unbelievable first book of hers on the French Revolution.
She lived to see her books reach Classic status, and proves with this last one (a collection of essays on different topics) that a great writer is not bound by small things like genre.
From academic ones describing her process and respect for history, to reflections on the nature of royalty and our fascination with it, to book reviews and movie reviews... she CAN write it all. And sustain the reader's attention all throughout. In these little pieces are "the great of the truths written on the bodies of the small."
Similar tomes had me skipping an essay here, focusing on a specific essay there. But one doesn't do that with Mantel. For with her gifted pen, no topic is too banal. All feed into the great theme of the past (ghosts in a secular sense) co-existing with us, the living.
She isn't perfect. The self confidence of the British intellectual will out, with statements like the one she wrote on Saudi Arabia: "When you come across an alien culture you must not automatically respect it. You must sometimes pay it the compliment of hating it." Or her point about a movie: "All in all, it provides a stimulating evening for those who can jettison the “cultural baggage”; and a pure delight for those of us who have never had any culture at all."
But then she also writes delightful funny phrases like "How nice, then, to go to Waterstones and not to have to disinfect yourself when you get home," comparing the luxury of a bookstore selling brand new books versus bookshops selling old books.
If the woman wasn't perfect, the writer nearly was. Such passion in her phrases, coming from a life filled with pain. Her beautiful books were her children, and they will live on in glorious testament to their mother for all time.
"The point about our human nature is that we must go to work on it... The pen is in our hands. A happy ending is ours to write."
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Wednesday, November 1, 2023
Ballet Review: CARMEN AND OTHER SPIRITS by Alice Reyes Dance Philippines
Soaring leaps, and utterly fearless dives.
Those are the two overwhelming visceral images that this audience member clearly remembers from the evening watching Alice Reyes Dance Philippines’ CARMEN AND OTHER SPIRITS.
An evening with ARDP continues to be a cut above other ballet offerings, not just because of the high level of technical difficulty (such precision in the ensemble’s angles of raised legs), but mainly because the dancers combine skill and grace with absolute fearlessness. When a dancer jumps without hesitation off the third rung of a bleacher (eliciting gasps from the audience), such confidence and trust is only possible because of countless hours spent at rehearsal with her fellow dancers. This visual placing of one’s life in the ensemble’s hands was the unforgettable starter in a four-course offering, done to mimic the dive of a swimmer.
In SWIMMING THE ILOG PASIG, choreographer Alden Lugnasig created a movement piece that seemed, to this former competitive swimmer, utterly authentic in its recreation of movements meant to propel our earthbound bodies through water. What struck me most, apart from the visceral shock of the life-defying leap at the beginning, was the celebration of the power of rippling muscle. There is grace, yes, but power above all. This is the resolution of human will made manifest through sinew as we defy land-bound constraints and forge our way through unfriendly water. It’s an artist’s bold vision of a possible future dependent on how much collective will we muster.
Reeling from the first dance, audiences were next treated to a pas de deux by Ronaldson Yadao accompanied by strains of Vivaldi, simply entitled TWO. Utterly lovely, it proves that one does not need grand sets nor dozens in the corps de ballet. All you need is two, if they’re this good, this true to the artist’s vision of going through life with an echo of one’s soul.
The third offering, for me, was the best jewel in the evening’s four-star collection. And it was a good thing that the intermission came afterwards, because Lester Reguindin’s NOW tore at our hearts and had many audience members frantically sniffing back tears.
We’ve all seen and heard environmentalist Greta Thunberg, perhaps to the point of apathy because of so much exposure over the years.
But to hear her words again, played over the beautiful music by Olafur Arnalds and Luke Howard, and to see the visualization of one tiny girl against all those corporations and grown ups in suits, was to strip away the veneer of familiarization and experience them as if for the first time. To truly hear her passionate pleas is to feel them hit with all the force of a bullet, and to realize the urgency of acting now, to save this world with such glorious dance and art in it.
This third piece is what will linger in memory, for it showed the best of what art can be. This is art on a mission, art with a purpose. Art that truly touches hearts.
An intermission allowed us to discreetly dry our teardrops from the front of our LBD’s, and we were prepared to be impressed when the curtain rose with National Artist Salvador Bernal’s set.
From the beginning, it was clear that this was markedly different from the more familiar Bizet opera. We begin in a dark prison cell. A despairing Don José starts to tell his story to a writer before his execution at dawn.
The set brightens to reveal sun-soaked Seville, and we see Carmen in flaming red dance brilliantly, all toned leg and wide hips, drawing all the males’ gazes (and the audiences’, as well).
Macel Dofitas truly was Carmen, as her beauty came from her power and essence, and less from superficial facial symmetry. This is a woman of fire, a woman who cannot be tamed (though Richardson Yadao as Don José tries).
I was struck with the passionate elegance of the choreography. A lot of opera productions now show Carmen as vulgar and sensual. However, Macel Dofitas managed to portray the sensuality without coming off as cheap, still dignified despite her all-consuming free love. In her, Carmen is full of grace, her love adding to the sum of her being instead of cheapening her.
The familiar story then plays out like the opera, with the ballet ending a bit differently with an execution. This, then, is what it means to die for love.
The only note that marred an otherwise perfect evening was the splicing of the different tracks for Carmen. To its credit, ARDP looked for arrangements of the familiar arias with Spanish guitar instead of the orchestral accompaniment, although there were still a few pieces from the opera itself. However, one could really hear the awkward and abrupt silences where tracks were cut, which temporarily distracted this viewer and brought me back to reality. This happened several times over the course of the evening. Still, this is easy enough to fix.
Also I think I saw a male danseur stumble badly enough to be unable to disguise the pain. But this is a testament to the breathtaking stunt-level choreography, and ARDP’s dancers’ commitment to give their all.
CARMEN AND OTHER SPIRITS teach us audiences that ARDP performances are unmissable, as they combine a rare degree of technical near-perfection with the unmistakable brand of Filipino artists’ passion. Synchronicity is a given, as is the commitment to excellence we have learned to associate with National Artists like Alice Reyes. Brava, maestra! And bravi, ARDP!
Thank you so much to Theater Fans Manila for the ticket!
Book Review: THE SEVEN MOONS OF MAALI ALMEIDA by Shehan Karunatilaka
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
“You know why the battle of good vs evil is so one-sided? Because evil is better organized, better equipped, and better paid. It is not monsters or yakas or demons we should fear. Organized collectives of evil doers who think they are performing the work of the righteous. That is what should make us shudder.”
In the Booker we trust.
THE SEVEN MOONS OF MAALI ALMEIDA, on its own, is something I would never have considered reading, if not for the fact that it won the Booker Prize in 2022. And I realize it comes across as snobbish, but honestly, it’s just a function of my limited teacher’s salary budget on books! It’s a huge help to have a trusted prize winning body like the Booker committee separate the kanin from the bigas, and say, this is worth your time and money.
Why would I have decided against reading TSMOMA if left to my own devices? In my ignorance, I thought it too foreign. The blurb told me the protagonist was a homosexual gambler involved in politics during the Sri Lankan Civil War. Sinhalese by blood, though neither Hindu nor Buddhist in practice, Maali Almeida describes himself on page 1 as “Photographer. Gambler. Slut.”
But the weight of the prize lent the book a golden hue, as well as my own many happy experiences with Booker winners past. And despite my thinking that I had nothing in common with this character, I opened the book and found myself moved to tears by its profound end hours later, my poor coffee left untouched as I was too rapt to drink.
For Maali Almeida was all these things, yes. But he was a war photographer on a mission. He took photos of atrocities committed in the name of peace. He took pictures that, when seen, would make his country burn.
“I was there to witness… All those sunrises and all those massacres existed because I filmed them.”
I read this on November 1, the day we remember our dead.
Almeida begins the novel as a spirit, freshly dead but unable to remember why and how. He realizes that the disorganized bureaucracy that haunted his native Colombo in life is still how it is (dis)organized in death, and tries to choose between those spirits egging him to find his killers and deal them justice from beyond the grave, and those who invite him to find the light.
He only has seven moons to solve his untimely murder at the age of 35, and make peace with his less-than-ideal life and loves left behind.
I would have been OK if I never read this book. But then, I wouldn’t have known the literary horizon that got extended because of this remarkable novel, and my life would have been the poorer for it.
If I hadn’t read this, I would never have been struck with awe by author Shehan Karunatilaka’s accomplishment: summarizing Sri Lanka’s violent and messy history in one book, making something so contemporary transcend the boundaries of time and place, striking deeply into the heart of our universal longing for life and death to have meaning.
It’s troubling yet transcendent, painful yet profoundly healing. And I’ve read enough crap to realize how rare this is, and what a blessing it is when such a book is found and read.
It offers answers to all people, of all faiths (or none). Despite its unflinching take on the horrors of modern murder and torture, the appalling truths of state-sponsored violence, it manages to show a way forward, without coming across as peddling religious panaceas to political upheaval.
The way forward, Karunatilaka seems to say, lies in our ability to choose. To forgive or to revenge. To enable or resist. To exist without a cause, or to live fighting for a righteous one.
But always, always, to choose life above all. To choose saving innocent lives above politics.
I’m glad the Booker chose this book, which led to me reading it. This was a November 1 to remember.
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