Would I recommend that you, dear Philippine Star readers, watch Cory, the Musical, during its second run in January at the Meralco Theater? The answer is a resounding yes. And if you have children aged 12 and above, you must, and I repeat, you must, bring them along with you as Cory, the Musical is not only extremely entertaining; it is also highly educational. I am ever glad my husband and I brought our two children, Jon and Mika, along. It was like having them sit through an entire semester of Araling Panlipunan, but instead of learning (or unlearning) through a schoolbook (with possibly hundreds of mistakes that remain uncorrected up to now), they imbibed valuable lessons from recent history through marvelous acting, singing, dancing and narrating, that were definitely based on a well-researched storyline and script.
Spanning several decades from the time Cory was a young girl up to the time she was catapulted into the Philippine Presidency by EDSA People Power, the play brought back memories to a forty-something year old like me. As I sat through the musical, I clearly recalled those days when I, as a teenager, looked up to Ninoy Aquino as my personal savior from the Metrocoms (the detestable, dreaded police during the Marcos era), the extreme leftists (to whom I was early on exposed as my ultra-patriotic mother, now 86 years old, gave them shelter in a room at the back of our Quezon City home that became their headquarters of sorts), and the abhorred curfew (my strict parents had this as reason to have me home before midnight while my luckier teenage friends enjoyed the privilege of stay-ins). I knew that somewhere in time Ninoy became the youngest mayor (at 22), then the youngest vice governor (29) and then the youngest elected senator (34). With his career trajectory, we believed he would become the next president. The Free Press magazine voted him Man of the Year and through this credible and independent weekly, we found out that he was incarcerated and suffered solitary confinement for a long period of time. And all throughout those times we wondered about his poor, better half — how she must have been so bereft, bringing up their children all by herself. We heaved a big sigh of relief when he was allowed to go to the US by then President Marcos for a heart bypass operation and be with his beloved wife and family. Yet, deep inside, we wanted him to be back — this time as our national savior. And yes, he did return, but was assassinated upon his arrival at the tarmac of the airport now bearing his name. The whole country mourned while the rest of the world was shocked at the brazenness of it all; yes, even while representatives of media from other nations were monitoring the event. I remember having wept with my then boyfriend, now my husband Paul, as we watched the television coverage of the brutal murder. The mourning developed into quiet but seething, then boiling, anger. And suddenly there she was, this simple and humble wife, looming larger than life, giving us another ray of hope and inspiring us all to take to the streets, risking our lives. We clamored for justice, truth and freedom from corruption and violations of human rights. (Dear reader, do not get confused as I am not talking about these present times.) And then as the whole world watched in awe, Corazon Aquino was installed as the first woman president of the Philippines via a peaceful revolution; Time Magazine even named her Woman of the Year in 1986.
All these and more were well-depicted in this spectacular, original Filipino musical produced by Bing Pimentel, wife of Senate Minority Floor Leader Nene Pimentel, and directed by well-respected writer and director Nestor Torre. Isay Alvarez, as Cory Aquino, essays probably the most difficult role she will ever play in her entire life and she delivers it with much aplomb. She starts with an ailing 75-year-old Cory, shifting seamlessly to the very young, shy colegiala Cory, metamorphosing remarkably into the supportive politician’s wife until she becomes president. Acting out so well the enigmatic Cory during the different stages of her life, with demanding transformations in a matter of a few minutes must have entailed back-breaking research, rigorous rehearsals and emotionally-draining internalization of character. The songs, which required a wide vocal range, were pleasing to the ears, with Isay’s smooth, crystal voice. I could not think of any other actress who could do justice to the role. She was able to show that Cory, in her quiet and unassuming external demeanor, had steely inner strength. In the scene where she tried to stop Ninoy from going back to the Philippines because she intuited that something bad was bound to happen, Isay made us feel to the very core of our hearts the desperation and anguish that Cory felt as a wife and mother who was inevitably about to lose her husband again after a very long period of separation.
Sherwin Sozon was convincing as Ninoy and with Isay, they were a splendid combination. Not only was he a superb singer. Like Isay, he could dance and act as well. My tears fell as I watched him lash out in frustration his deep rage as he found out that his young wife had to undergo a strip-search before she could visit him. I went to the edge of my seat scared as he went through a bout of depression, questioning even God for what had befallen him. My heart fluttered with joy, feeling Ninoy’s happiness every time he was reunited with his wife and children.
The favorite characters of my 13-year-old daughter Mika were Ferdinand Marcos (Robert Seña) and Imelda Marcos (Pinky Marquez) and I give due credit to director Nestor Torre for the light treatment and humor injected in the Marcos scenes. Seña had a powerful, reverberating and astounding voice and was incredibly funny with his sidekicks. Pinky was lovable and lovely as Imelda with a voice that matched the power of Seña’s. All in all, the marvelous musical renditions of Isay, Sherwin, Robert and Pinky did justice to the beautiful songs of producer-composer Bing Pimentel. Tommy Abuel as the reporter/narrator also did a creditable job. Even the minor actors performed excellently. The child actors were endearing.
My Ateneo-bred son Jon, at 21, found the later scenes on Filipino patriotism the most meaningful: The rallies, the noise barrages, the incessant cries for change. As his mother whose own mother instilled love for country in all her children, I am pleased. Watching the play, we are reminded time and again of Ninoy’s oft-repeated and unforgettable pronouncement that the “Filipino is worth dying for.” Watching Cory, I am reminded of all the personal trials she went through sustained by her own deep love for her countrymen, the incarnation of all who have lost their loved ones to the cause of freedom, justice, equality and emancipation from poverty. Are the Filipinos really worth dying for? I still believe so and I hope so does every other Filipino.
(E-mail me at celebrationsdot@yahoo.com or text 0927-5000833.)
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