Carlitos Siguion Reyna

He could have been a dancer. He has the height, the body, the presence. Prince Albrecht of Giselle would have been portrayed well by Carlitos Siguion-Reyna. I’m sure he’d guffaw when he reads this.

His parents took him to the season concerts at the CCP as a young boy. "I grew up with classical and pop music, ballet, opera – aside from the usual, like movies – but they were never really separate as a big cultural thing," he says, "just something you see because it’s not always there. I couldn’t really appreciate Giselle except for the virtuosity. I kind of get bored with the classics in dance because there are so many alternatives in dance as well as in theater." Sorry, Giselle.

He was a very good student at the Ateneo Grade School, always top 10 and getting gold medals. But growing up in very structured institution kindled an antagonistic spirit in Carlitos later in life towards a society that tells people how to behave. "As a young kid I looked for structure but soon found myself asking why I got into the paper chase with no life. I made kalat in high school, and in college I was burned-out. I shifted courses four times. I didn’t know what I was going to do. Was I going to be an architect? Opera singer? A rock star? My parents encouraged us to do what we wanted to do. I wasn’t forced by my father into law nor my mother into film. Shit, what was I gonna do? That was part of the panic."

Having decided to be a fiction writer he took a degree in media but later became more interested in screenwriting. When he entered the New York University (NYU) he faced a blank page everyday, he claims. It was the interaction with the students that stimulated him into film direction.

"At NYU I learned a lot from my classmates. We were told to give feedback and we were assessed. We were a mixed class, mostly Americans, but with a few Taiwanese, Pinoys, Germans. So it was important to know if we were communicating or not. We were basically making movies and getting feedback."

Now he’s a famous film director with several blockbusters to his name. What kind of a director is he, I wonder, as I gape at his quiet, very non-industry stance. "You seem to be a very shy man for a film director," I say. "Oh, you like boxing – in people too?" he laughs. "Sorry, but I’m very judgemental," I quip, "Okay, what film would interest a director like you?"

"Films with characters that don’t allow themselves to be forced into a box! Sometimes I see myself in the film and it’s an important story to me. In this country, institution makes people behave in a certain way. We need more challenge to keep us alive, daring and stirring. There’s too much attempt to control, as opposed to an attempt to stimulate. We’re too concerned about our positions in society."

I decide it was time to toss a bomb that ticks in my mind everytime I watch a Filipino movie. "Why is it that our movies have a lot of crying and slapping?" He mulls over that. "In the States they have more layers of protection. Here, we’re more in touch with ourselves, our emotions. We have closer family ties. Mas konektado tayo. We’re a colonized and conquered country and therefore, want to break out as in the Latin American countries. The pendulum shifts on a daily basis. Am I Catholic today? Will I wear this shirt today?"

"Is this perhaps a class thing?" I prod. "I don’t see too many people I know slapping each other when they’re upset."

"No, I don’t think it’s a class thing. We’re Chinese, American and Spanish at the same time. That’s schizophrenic! What is Filipinization?" he grins, "Is it the Filipino and the carabao? Whatever it is, we should celebrate it, not apologize for it. Let’s deal with it and be proud of it. We’re a vibrant culture. People in Asia are buying our art. We don’t have the money but we have the soul."

In Toronto, he got feedback about a Filipino film in the comfort room, of all places. The foreigners were talking about the film being too melodramatic. To Carlitos, melodrama is between honest and dishonest portrayal more than being about what he calls, big or small.

"Why are our films mostly about maids and prostitutes? Because these are the realities now. Those foreigners thought we were painting the wrong picture of the Philippines but a film, to me, is always a slice of life and not everything about a particular culture. The Americans bash and shoot each other in films but not all Americans do this in real life. Every film work is a slice of life, a specific story. No single film can deduce a single culture," he declares. "I’m learning it everyday in life. You can’t know a culture completely. It’s always a story or a character you come across that will bring knowledge."

There is a statement he wants to bring about in all his movies. "Be what you want to be. Don’t be in a box, organized, institutionalized. Go for the personal relationship instead of the structured one. Where does man-made structure end and God begin? I like telling stories. There’s something of me in every story I hear. In every film, I’m transformed."

Again I scrutinize him. So what was a film director like him, so opposed to labels, doing in a most stuctured, egotistical art like dance, I wonder to myself. Carlitos had worked with choreographer Myra Beltran two months ago for Ballet Philippines’ Neo-Filipino series where they, together with other choreographers and film makers, merged the two forms of art.

"What was it like working with Myra?" I decide to play it safe. He exclaims, "I really enjoyed working with her! We had mutual respect for each other. We were given the topic of Payatas. We were both at the dead end as we talked of certain themes. In general it came to the exploitation of families, tragedies, media, church. Nauna muna ang choreography niya. I was visualizing certain things, the idea of church against...(he waves his hand) or politicians using power. I had certain goals in mind and hoped people would see the interaction.

"When I saw her dance and my images, we were responding to each other in a sense. We wanted a looser integration, not being really interested in orchestrating it the way we do it in our own fields. We wanted surprises, clashes, great harmonies at certain points. That’s what excited us about it."

The piece, Payatas: Point Counterpoint, turned out to be a pretty discordant union of the abstract and concrete with a provoking story weaving itself out of lyrical images and reflections. Indeed, it was a loose integration of dance and video, both structured on their own but remarkably unbound when put together. The movements of Myra were liquid, and beautifully danced by the BP dancers. As they moved, stark images of desolation appeared behind them on a screen.

"Rehearsal period in film is much less than in theater," he reveals. "Some actors are completely in the moment immediately, they are readily more available emotionally. Some have done both film and theater, some give their suggestions, their objectives – some respond to that best, others have workshop methods. I spend time making actors confront past experiences without knowing the character, I tell them to do and improve, like, ‘accuse that person now.’ Some are explosive, some are quiet. They jump into the scene and I say, ‘hwag kang bibitaw,’ it really depends. I rehearse a number of times before blocking and shooting without going through the emotions. I work with that at the very end, at the freshest before the take.

"With dancers I get feedback when they’re in tune with themselves. I’d like to work with them some more. They were very eager to work. I was also interested in the way they move, their skills, the choreography, the root action."

Carlitos’ video spoke of coming back from the dead with a lonely figure of a woman (Myra Beltran) looming resplendent in the white skirts of the lahar. These footages were shot by Nonoy Froilan who also worked with the two at length. It went on to show domestic violence that might envelope a family living in the squatters’ area. The mother-and-son theme also featured Carlitos’ son, Rafael, who was quite good…intense for such a young boy. It brought us to a dark room in prison and isolation, then to the church, then to the cracked circus of a political campaign. It had a gory ending with the son stabbing his Teddy Bear and blood spilling out. It could mean anything to anyone and I think that was what they wanted.

I graciously put Carlitos in a distinct box after the interview. He should be laughing again. It’s my abstract box for people who like moving in and out of a receptacle, like music from a violin. He cannot be contained. I still think he could have made a good dancer with his regal bearing and princely charm. Well, here’s a cliché: dance’s loss was film’s gain.

So if he didn’t dance he should make a film about it. "Belleh Iliot" might be the title. I’m sure it won’t be banned.