The lunacy of Luna

If according to one wag, history is "something that never happened, written by a man who wasn’t there," cannot the same thing be said of biography? And if one shamelessly plagiarizes Carlyle, are not both "a distillation of rumor?"

If the account of a man’s life be at first attended by fortune and fame and then by his own fault or by the hand of fate he falls from his high state into the depths of despair, is this not the matter of Greek and Shakespearian tragedy? And if this tragic hero’s life is spiced with themes of passion and madness, attraction and repulsion, love and death, are these not the stuff of which opera is created?

If there is anyone who can sense with a keen ear and eye these materials and fuse them into an operatic opus, it has to be Fides Cuyugan-Asensio. She discovered the elements in the story of Doña Luisa de Bustamante and together with Dr. Francisco Feliciano, crafted La Loba Negra. The duo mounted on the operatic stage the rage and lust for vengeance of a woman whose husband was the victim of assassination carried out by corrupt friars. The historical account of the vengeful widow, a descendant of the Incas of Mexico, who led a band of bandits in her quest for justice, was recorded allegedly by Fr. Jose Burgos.

And now, Asensio has reprised her triumph in the discovery of the Black She-Wolf with another victory – that of her unveiling the life of the most celebrated painter of our race in Spoliarium: Juan Luna. Her collaborator this time is Ryan Cayabyab who has set her libretto to music.

All Filipino schoolchildren know Juan Luna. They may have been brought by their teacher to the National Museum to gaze at his Spoliarium. They may have been told about the mortal combats during the reign of the Caesars in the Colosseum – battles to the death between gladiators armed with swords, spears, or battle-axes, their faces protected with iron masks, their heads with helmets, their torsos and bellies with armor. When a gladiator fell wounded in the dust, the bloodthirsty mob in the arena decided his fate by lifting up a thumb or turning it down. The emperor always passed the final judgment. Luna’s painting recreates this panoramic carnage; focusing on a dead gladiator’s body being dragged away – a bloody sight likely to give school kids the creeps. Above all they need to be informed that Luna’s colossal masterwork won the gold medal in the International Art Exposition in Rome in 1884, a unique achievement for a Filipino artist.

It may be added that Felix Resurreccion-Hidalgo garnered the ninth silver medal for his entry "Christian Maidens Exposed to the Populace" in the same competition.

The opera presented at the CCP Main Theater is not mainly about the painting but the painter. And what it exposes of his personal tragedy is not for youngsters to relish.

Art is never a faithful imitation of life. In the case of depicting Luna’s life, the librettist needs to compress events occurring over many years into a theater piece that lasts for less than three hours, the whole being a portrait of the fall of an artistic genius in the grip of violent passions.

In the Prologue, Juan Luan (Robert Seña) is toasted by Jose Rizal (Allan Alojipan; alternate: Miguel Vera) and his friends in Madrid for the gold medal awarded to his monumental "Spoliarium" in Rome.

Act One opens with the painter at work on the "Blood Compact" in his studio in Paris with Rizal and Trinidad Pardo de Tavera (Bonggoy Manahan) posing for him as Sikatuna and Legaspi, respectively. Pausing to rest from their labor, the young bucks fool around with rapiers and joke about the beverage of the Aztecs, chocolate. Then, falling into a more somber mood, they sing of their homeland.

Visiting Trinidad’s family, Juan proposes to Paz (Margarita Gomez-Yulo; alternate: Anna Guillen Feleo), much to the alarm of their mother (Kitchy Molina; alternate: Fides Asensio). The union of an indio and a peninsular? Unthinkable! The mind of Doña Juliana is clouded by forebodings. Her fears are not unfounded.

In Act Two, the storm clouds break. Juan blames Paz for the death of their infant daughter, Bibi. As their marriage crumbles, he sinks deeper in the mire of madness as he suspects her of infidelity, while she suffers more frequently from asthmatic attacks. Like Othello blinded by jealousy, Juan looks for signs in his wife for proof of her perfidy as she is filled with loathing for this man she once loved.

Act Three opens with a festive relief from the black mood of the preceding scenes. In a seedy Parisian saloon, a rowdy bunch of coquettes in black high stockings and scarlet skirts dance the lascivious can-can to the tunes of Offenbach and French traditional ditties, kicking their legs high to expose their undergarments and thighs. A chanteuse, Marie (Josephine Roces-Chaves; alternate: Melanie Dujunco) warbles Carmen’s "Habanera" enticing an admiring patron into her embrace. Juan in a drunken rage intervenes and makes a fool of himself.

Brothers Trinidad and Felix (John Mulhall) engage Don Antonio Regidor (Gamaliel Viray) to write the annulment papers. Juan goes berserk, kills Doña Juliana and Paz and wounds Felix. Momentarily recovering his sanity when he hears the cry of his young son, Luling (Miguel V. Aguila; alternate: Franz P. Garchitorena), he rushes to the boy to sing him back to sleep to protect him from the sight of the slaughter.

The Epilogue presents Juan’s acquittal by the French court, but not his conscience.

The powerful projection of Luna by Seña and the heart-wrenching portrayal of Paz by Gomez-Yulo are unforgettable.

No more authoritative a conductor of the San Miguel Philharmonic Orchestra for this opera other than Maestro Cayabyab himself can be found. Would that he had used more forceful dissonances along the line of Bartok or Berg in the parts of the principal protagonist to amplify his lunacy. Would not a mad scene by a tenor (for once!) bring an opera to a shattering conclusion?

The chorus directed by Janet Sabas-Aracama deserves commendation for their participation in the production. Credits also go to production designer Gino Gonzales, lighting designer Shoko Matsumoto, choreographer Alejandro Alvis and sound designer Gerry Fernandez.

And the magus who has worked wonders for Spoliarium: Juan Luna is director Alexander Cortez who has stamped this endeavor with the seal of excellence. With a steady hand and a steadfast heart, and with the vision of an artist of musical theater of the first order, he has advanced Filipino operatic production many paces forward.

The Opera Guild Foundation of the Philippines, the Music Theater Foundation of the Philippines and the CCP need to stage the opera again to allow more people to watch this landmark in our cultural life.

The figure of Juan Luna remains an enigma.

It is an odd coincidence that another opera about his brother, Antonio, was on stage at the CCP Little Theater – Aguinaldo 1899: Ang Pagpatay kay Luna. The libretto by Dr. Paul Dumol is based on exhaustive studies of the so-called heroes of the Philippine Revolution. The subject of heroes is a veritable hornet’s nest that makes us ponder on the true character of those who occupy niches in the hallowed pantheon of the country’s heroes.

We are too hasty in proclaiming heroes – OFWs, honest taxi drivers, comfort women, street demonstrators, rape victims, ad nauseam. Of the great artist like Juan Luna, we have no doubt. His art is evidence enough of his immortality.

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