From chrysalis to Madame Butterfly

MANILA, Philippines - She was a wisp of a girl, a pianissimo, when we first heard her sing with the cast of the Walt Disney German production Glockner von Notre Dame (Hunchback of Notre Dame) in Berlin.

Stephanie Rocco Reese, was probably my wife Victoria’s secret wish for daughter-in-law, like Chiz Escudero is every prospective mother-in-law’s dream. Petite, shy, a nearly kayumangging kaligatan Fil-Am girl, she had dreams of making it big time. She would parlay her parents’ generous support for opera lessons into taking lead roles — Esmeralda in Notre Dame, Kim in the German version of Miss Saigon and Princess Tuptin in The King and I.

The Philippine Embassy Residence at the Damiler Chrysler Building at posh Potsdamer Platz was just a stone’s throw away from the Musicale Theatre in Berlin. So we had VIP seats to several performances, including our guests, among whom were Senator Raul Rocco and wife Sonia (who was a just-discovered distant uncle of Stephanie), Elsie Pinto-Mansor, founder of Movement 8 and head of the Philippine exhibit at Hanover 2000 Expo, Philippine Billiards Association president Ernie Fajardo, then Muntinlupa Mayor Ignacio Bunye and Dra. Bunye, and Ambassador Rora Navarro Tolentino and Ambassador Armando Fernandez.

The Philippine Residence was an open house to artists, and Stephanie and the cast would drop in for tea, lunch or dinner for the price of (literally) a song. Our last time with Stephanie was at the black-tie rock-and-roll 2002 New Year’s bash at the Residence where our utility man, June Abaigar, a former child prodigy Tawag ng Tanghalan champion, played his one-man band.

But last May 4’s performance was a revelation. We knew the chrysalis of Stephanie, in the twinkle of a promising star. When we saw her again at her solo concert, I am Stephanie Reese, at the Teatrino the chrysalis had blossomed into Madame Butterfly.

She sang each number with the intensity of a 100-meter dash. But, (to continue a poor metaphor), she ran a marathon repertoire — pausing only briefly for a change from black vamp gown to seductive red diva.

The curtain opened with Stephanie dressed as a grandmother, singing oldies — Que Sera Sera, a medley, Sun and Moon, New York and another medley. This brought the baby boomers to their feet. Part Two heightened the tempo as the vamp sang Malagueña, Habanera and a sizzling L’amour. Her composition, the naughty ditty Chocka Locka-Boom-Boom — about a nymph invited by a professed gentlemen to his lair, (whom she takes to the moon!) — would make any DOM blush.

She was in her element when she sang Shirley Bassey’s I, Who Have Nothing. Patti La Belle gave her the moniker “Little girl with a big voice.” And her parents’ investment in opera lessons is the ticket to the aria Nessun Dorma. (You don’t have to speak Italian to understand her pleading to the principe to marry the swain she loves, or she would give up life itself).

But the touching part is her telling how she found the Philippines. She began with her meeting John... a shy hello... her asking his name (which she already secretly knew)... and a handshake. She sang He Touched Me, of her instant love in four days. Told like a young girl swooning over her crush. Could one fall in love in just four days, she asked, her adrenalin’s pumping. She sang a medley of love songs they used to share, with backdrop photos of her and curly-haired John at their happiest. It must have taken great courage for her to revisit this moment, and to share it with the audience.

Because the distant telephone call with news of a car crash... that he would not survive. Heart and soul would not believe what the ear is hearing. She sang Till the End and Somewhere in Time. Never was a short-lived love story told so poignantly. Stephanie has the verve of Edith Piaf, and her singing reminded me of the French cabaret chanteuse’s prayer to St. Therese to spare her lover from the air crash.

With the tragedy, Stephanie the Singer withdrew into her cocoon. No mas. For a long while, she felt betrayed by God. Until she was prodded to sing for Gawad Kalinga. While waiting for her cue, she happened to sit next to a woman who had lost her husband and her entire family, and was now giving her all for GK. This was an awakening for Stephanie. The woman lost much more than the singular love she lost. But the woman was dedicating her life to a cause.

Stephanie picked up the pieces. She found that the gift of her voice was for a purpose. She found in singing for GK the beginning of healing of a broken heart.

Stephanie tells her infatuation with the Philippines. So when she sang Dahil sa Iyo the seduction of the audience was complete. Then she indulged her Bicolano relations with Sarungbanggi, and Cebuanos with Usahay.

At finale, she dueted with George Yang, The Prayer, which she dedicated to her new-found friend Sara Soliven de Guzman, who did the near-impossible impresario of the sell-out concert at Teatrino in three weeks.

But the audience would not let her go. And to pleas for more, she would indulge, but with the prayer that she could claim her heritage to her Filipino half. A famous final test for immigrants is to be asked to sing the national anthem. I wish that Foreign Secretary Alberto Romulo were at Teatrino that evening, so that after her moving Bayan Ko, followed by Ako Ay Pilipino, he could have granted her dual citizenship, then and there. Or, better yet, when she hits those high octaves, she could run for high office.

(Editor’s Note: The author is a former Ambassador to Berlin.)