It was October 2000. I had been delaying the inevitable – that is, having to meet Christopher de Leon. The meeting was for a new game show Viva TV was about to launch. The game is a worldwide phenomenon, so when I was offered to be the show’s head writer a few months prior, I had no qualms accepting it, not knowing the gravity of the workload, which included, among others, making the questions along with my research team composed of a whopping two members! It had pressure written all over but I wanted to be a part of it at all costs. But that’s not what this story is all about.
When I accepted the challenge, I was off to a long planned vacation, so I had no idea who Viva’s final choice as host would be. Jonathan Aligada, the show’s supervising producer, cornered me a few weeks after my arrival. "You have to talk to Christopher already. This is his number; call him now; he is expecting your call," Jonathan said. Being the dutiful follower, I called but the phone was busy. End of story. Jonathan called back a few minutes later and when I told him the situation, he told me to try again.
Well, I did get to talk to THE MAN and we decided to meet that very evening. He stays in Las Piñas (which I’m sure a lot of you know since that is a running "spiel" in Millionaire because we have a lot of contestants who are his kababayan) and I stay in Greenhills. I suggested to meet halfway and slyly recommended Shangri-La EDSA Plaza Hotel. He readily agreed even if my half was shorter than his.
I had so many questions in mind while preparing for that meeting. First and foremost on my mind was, "What if we don’t get along?" Heck, I was to be his head writer at least for the next one year. I was, after all, meeting with a man who probably uses his acting trophies as paperweights! But it was a job, and I had to do it.
When we finally met at the lounge lobby, he immediately asked what I wanted to drink. I declined since I was in the midst of gruesome ordeals with my acidity, lacerations and growths in my stomach, not to mention gallstones. He said, "Brother, acidic din ako, but I can take a glass or two of red wine."
My first question, (or for the WW2BAM addicts, "Para sa halagang P1,000, eto ang tanong") "Sir, what do you want me to call you?" He immediately said, "Anything but Boyet." Hey, call in the trivia police! As the story goes, "Boyet" is his mom’s (film legend Lilia Dizon) pet name for him. He never really fancied the name, but he never really did anything about it, so when he entered showbiz over two decades ago, people got wind of the name and it stuck. From then on, I would call him "Chris" or "Sir", or when the role calls for it (read: carino brutal) "Bhoyet", of course, with an ‘H,’ or a variation of the "H" coming at the end.
For the next two hours, he shared his stories and ideas – primarily his first-hand observation of the British and US versions, and how he wanted to "Filipinize" the whole setting without veering away too much from the "bible" – yes, being a franchise, WW2BAM is bound by certain standards which have to be followed "by the book." As we ended that first meeting, what struck and stuck to me the most were his final words: "Brother, kailangan mo akong tulungan. Kailangan nating mag-tulungan. Hindi ako host. Artista ako. You will be my lifeline." With that in mind, I knew I couldn’t and wouldn’t let him down.
As we moved on to the actual taping of the shows, I would get my dose of how it is to work with a celebrity of his status. Chris would arrive and wander off directly to his dressing room, but it literally was just for that, to dress up. The moment he left the door of the room, he was one of us. He would be on the floor (technical term for the set) snacking on sliced apples, grapes, empanadas, or tuna leftovers or gulping coffee or "pedialyte" while fooling around with the production assistants, costume assistant or make-up artist. If not, he would be in the computer room exchanging pleasantries, insanities or juvenile profanities, depending on his mood.
During commercial gaps, I run to the set to give him some last - minute instruction for additional spiels. But more often than not, I would just run in to share an opinion, run by some useless trivia, or throw in a song or two. Since we are both music aficionados, we have sporadic stanza or chorus duets, only to be ended by the floor director shouting at us, "You’re fired!".
During some other breaks, we would exchange personal dreams and experiences. Take for example when I asked him, (pag nasagot mo ito, you are assured P100,000. Ang tanong…) "What did you want to become before entering showbiz?" In an instant, he said, "Although I was taking Fine Arts in college, I wanted to become a soldier." Indeed, he is a true fighter, ready to face the agony and the intrigues that come along with his current life choice.
Whenever the occasion allows, I throw in a tease or two about his ex-wife (Nora Aunor). He would take this in jest and ride along, but you can tell it is not a topic of particular interest for him to discuss, especially if dug deeper. So I have often taken my cue from that. What he does talk fondly of are his kids – all of them. Needless to say, he adores his wife, Sandy Andolong. Whenever she visits the set, his face lights up, as if they didn’t just part ways a couple of hours before.
These exchanges and observations are the bases of my work as I travel to that little dark corner behind the stage where I try to become Christopher de Leon. In that little claustrophobic hideout where the teleprompter is located, I try to recall his stories, his likes and dislikes, his moods, opinions, mannerisms, language. So whether it be for the opening spiel, or for the bantering with the contestants, before each game, I attempt to make it a personal endeavor between him and the viewer. I want to let people know he is human in his mistakes and a complete artisan in his beliefs. That just like you and me, he will run at the sight of a cockroach, get enthralled by the powers of "The Green Lantern", reminisce on the soundtrack of Godspell, get animated with the movies of Chow Yun Fat, cry over a lost love, scrimp on his earnings, backslide on his faith and do anything for his family.
He does retakes every so often, kills time while the rain sends loud splatters on the roof, ponders seemingly endless hours while the generator is being fixed, or does merchandising plugs with short notice. While waiting, he will talk… he will chew… or he will silently go to that little dark corner behind the stage and rest. What he has never done is throw his weight around in a childlike manner, even if often, he presents himself to be a child at heart and yes, the role may call for it. He knows his place and his responsibility. He still wants to learn and he isn’t ashamed to show it. He is confident about who he is with the help of his undying faith.
If there is anything I have learned first hand after a year with Christopher de Leon, it is that old saying that humility and respect can only be gained through the words you speak and the actions you show. I am not claiming I know him inside out but at least I have scratched a little beneath the surface of who he is.
And proudly, it is more than what other millions of people can claim. When the time comes that he and I will no longer have the "authority" to give millions and make millionaires, I would be leaving him with a million truths and a million stories of how it truly feels to be a millionaire at heart.
So to my "idol" (when I am asleep), in behalf of Paolo’s angels – Tisha and Gay – and the rest of your WW2BAM family, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIR BHOYETH! (Oct. 31.)
On a personal note, here’s a little thought from me to you to tide you over to your next birthday… "Sana ay huwag ka nang mangalabukab sa dati mong pinangangalabukaban". Yes, that is a private joke, but if you don’t get it, neither do we! And if any of you have the final answer to that, please do tell us.