The eye of an actor

While other film stars are being wrenched by tax and drug issues, here is one that continues to earn my respect. Ronnie Lazaro is a talented and sensitive artist with an enduring love for his country. His philosophy in life is never to define, never to put people in a box. "Life is always full of surprises," he says. "And I like surprises. People define too much – marriage, kids. So do what you do? I can’t even define God because I don’t know Him. I feel liberated by this concept."

Many years ago, Ronnie bewildered us when he endeavored to clean up the gigantic map of the Philippines at the Luneta Park with his colleagues. Every time I get a chance to talk to my good friend, my kumpadre, I am perplexed by the urgency of his soul. Something is always stewing in his mind and, more often than not, it is for the country. His perceptive notions have been savored in film, television and stage. Now we have a taste of them in his photography.

In a 2003 photo exhibit at the Penguin Café and Gallery in Malate titled Kariton, Ronnie showed this side of his life force. He displayed simple unpretentious shots of his country and countrymen, photos that could’ve been taken by anyone, actually. It is his essence that makes the difference.

Married to the radiant Spanish professor Lola Pizarro, Ronnie has been visiting Spain with her and their son Gabriel. The holidays bared the imminent artistic-cum-nationalistic calling – bringing our summer breeze to the chilly winds of Europe via art. "I just wanted to present something of the Philippines in Spain. But I’m not in the funding field and it isn’t my job to do tourism," he reveals.

With Lola and her sister Mars’ prodding, Ronnie set off to the Museo Carcel Real Coria with his Penguin exhibit photos. Coria is a city in the province of Caceres, Extremadura, in Southern Spain.

"If I’m able to show my works, it should open doors to other people. I had the photos with me already. An exhibit would be less expensive and easier to mount than a play. Maybe they’ll help, who knows?" he recalls adding, "I didn’t show the extreme poverty of Manila but the more uplifting pictures – the ones that had smiling faces – would be educational for them."

The people at the Museo loved the photos and immediately scheduled a solo exhibit. By December 2004, Ronnie was being interviewed on television, radio and the papers. The show opened on Jan. 20 and ran until Feb. 27 this year.

"Mar coordinated everything because my schedule back home was hopeless. I didn’t even make it to opening night!" he discloses.

The people of Corea did have a glimpse of our country. His exhibit was aptly titled, Manila en Las Palmas de la Luz – roughly translated, Manila in the Palm of Light. "The title has a divine element to it: Hope for the country. We don’t ask for sympathy but there is dignity in poverty... light in God’s hands... Manila sa palad ng liwanag."

It was a widely attended exhibit. The museum counted 1,000 guests, viewers who found the photos novel and unusual. The shots, though unfamiliar, contained something recognizable to them. The poster itself showed karetelas in Chinatown, a fusion of Chinese, Spanish and Filipino.

Ronnie’s exhibit was an unearthing of our past, their past, of two separate worlds with a common history. There are those smiles on Filipino faces, the designs in our jeepneys, flimsy fiesta banners fluttering in remote barrios. There was a hint of our intimate correlation with Spain in every face, every banca, every carabao. Spanish friars rode those bancas and carabaos over 400 years ago and there is a hint of Spanish blood in the radiant smiles surrounded by poverty. Some people went back three times to get a deeper understanding of this revelation. It was indeed an educational journey for modern Spain, going back to Asia where, unbeknownst to man, their ancestors left a tremendous impact.

After that success, what else is stewing inside Ronnie’s mind?

"I have put up a theater group called Ang Filipino Mobile Theater Group, composed of television, film and theater actors. We produce and perform plays like Rene Villanueva’s Hiblang Abo, which is an interesting story of four elderly men inside an abandoned institution without family or friends. We’ve performed it at the GSIS Theater and traveled all over the country with it. What’s inspiring is that we have a forum after the show where students acknowledge the story’s impact on their lives. After our good friend, actor Ray Ventura died, medyo nawala ang grupo and we had to get jobs outside. Now everyone’s doing soap operas but that’s still good... for survival!"

And his life now?

He smiles. "No definition! keep going forward. I don’t know where photography will lead me but at least I did it!"

Maybe the country can add an herbal ingredient to his fare, a twig of recognition, like an award for his portrayal of the role as Kuwangol in Cesar Montano’s film Panaghoy sa Suba. He was recently nominated to the Film Academy Awards in the best supporting actor category. In the movie, he depicts a crazy man, a thinking buang, or at least, a buang that makes us think. So very Ronnie Lazaro in undefined roles he defines extremely well because of his aversion to definition.

Some actors will always have the better roles, the higher fees, and bigger fame. But there are actors like Ronnie who seem to be saying what we should all be saying to ourselves: Let others increase and I, decrease, for it is in empty spaces that my soul shines best.

Good work, Ronnie! And may others follow your path.