A Tale of 2 Pinoy Comic Books on Christmas Day

On Christmas eve, a perfectly preserved, mint-copy and rare issue of a 1950 Filipino comic titled HIYAS with a price tag of Five Thousand Pesos was magically brought to life. It slipped past the glass case where it was kept, and roamed around the room admiring the high prices of other comics collections kept inside protective wrappers, tacked to the wall and displayed in other glass cases. The mint-copy HIYAS was proud that it was in such an elite and illustrious company.

As it looked to the side however, it noticed a big wooden chest. Assuming that it too housed rare and perfectly preserved Filipino comics, the mint-copy HIYAS jumped down and lifted the chest’s lid. What it found came as a surprise.

Piles of worn-out, partly torn and creased copies of rare, old Filipino comics of the 1940s to 1960s with a price tag of Twenty Five to Thirty Centavos printed on their covers, were laid on top of the other. They were the same issues as those displayed in the collection room. The mint-condition HIYAS could not believe that someone would treat these copies in such an uncaring and callous manner.

Gently, it examined each one until it came upon a damaged copy that looked exactly like it. This damaged HIYAS copy had rounded and folded edges, its cover and pages were creased and yellowing with age, its spine was covered by scotch tape because it was missing a staple, and it had one or two inside pages that were water damaged.

As the mint-copy HIYAS tried to gently lift it up away from the pile, it too, magically came to life. “What are you doing? Who are you?”, the damaged HIYAS copy asked. The mint-condition HIYAS copy was taken aback but quickly regained its composure and said: “We are copies of the same issue. You’ve been terribly mistreated and I’m here to help you.”

“Oh?”, asked the worn-out copy. “How is that, exactly?”

“The heat inside the chest is activating the acid in your pages. You’re disintegrating already. Pretty soon, you’ll be turned to powder. There are protective wrappers inside this room. We could put you and the others inside to delay the process. You will be preserved for generations to come and live longer.”

But the worn-out HIYAS shook its head, “No one would be able to read me then and enjoy my stories.”

“In that worn-out condition?” scoffed the mint-copy HIYAS.

“You’d be surprised. The owner, his friends and family often drop by just to read and check us out; reliving their “good old days”. We’ve been passed around through the years, others in here have been rolled up as fly swatters, used as table mats, and as cover for the rain.”

“I’ll bet some of you had pages that were torn and used as toilet paper, fish wrapper or as implements to help fire up wood on a burning stove somewhere.”

“AFTER we’ve been read,” corrected the worn-out HIYAS, “AFTER we’ve been passed around to so many hands and given readers a few minutes or hours of feeling good. No one lives forever, you know. What they do to us later is of no moment because they’ll be coming back for more and others will be taking our place. It’s the experience and goodwill flowing from all this repeated activity that counts, not the object itself.”

Now it was the mint-copy HIYAS’ turn to shake its head, “You’re gluttons for punishment. You’re willing to be abused and disposed of, just so you could give many insensitive, unappreciative casual readers a few minutes of happiness and camaraderie? That’s what you’re saying? Comics are NOT disposable. They’re ART BOOKS supposed to be read only by a few, select, careful hands; collectors’ hands.”

“Well, its our reason for living. Its our purpose in life. What’s yours, anyway?”

Just then, the room’s door opened and human voices could be heard approaching. The worn-out HIYAS copy quickly dove back into the pile and stayed still. The mint-copy HIYAS meanwhile jumped out, closed the lid on the chest and ran back towards the glass case. It slipped back the case, resumed its previous position and stood still.

From its position behind the glass case mounted on the top corner of the room, it could see from above the door open. In came their master, the 68-year old comics collector and owner, Gerardo, together with group of seven male and female teenagers, who were all his nephews and nieces.

As the teenagers looked around the room, they were visibly awestruck at the sight of printed nostalgia laid before them. They were particularly impressed by the high prices marked on each of the copies. Not being comics enthusiasts, they could not believe that such items could fetch astronomical prices, and that only a few, like-minded, rich people like their Uncle Gerardo, could afford them.

But their admiration quickly turned to frustration as they could not open, much less examine, the insides of these rare, and valuable Filipino comics sealed within protective wrappers and locked inside glass cases. Sensing this, Uncle Gerardo took out the big, wooden chest and called them to gather round. As he flung open the chest’s lid showing off the damaged and worn-out copies, everyone was laughing, hemming and hawing as they actually touched a copy and opened its pages, perusing each one.

It did not matter that the copies were worn-out, their pages missing, or some scotch tape plastered over torn edges. The important thing was for them to actually see, touch, and even smell what was inside these rare, printed comic books. Pretty soon, copies were changing hands as Uncle Gerardo spun stories of bygone days relating to them the stories he read, the great comics artists of his era, anecdotes and recollections of his life richly lived, and of his passion for the medium.

The group was so animated and involved in their discussion that sometimes the worn-out copies were being rolled up and slapped around while emphasizing a joke. This at first appalled the mint-copy HIYAS who was observing the proceedings, but then was dumbfounded when he saw the owner, Gerardo, actually doing it himself. All were obviously having a merry and wonderful time until they were called to come down and have dinner.

Reluctantly, Uncle Gerardo’s young guests obeyed but not without being allowed to take out several of the worn-out and damaged copies. When the door was locked behind them and silence once more filled the room, the mint-copy HIYAS began to reflect as it stood still behind the glass case.

"When was the last time I was actually opened and read?", it tried to remember. “In all these years that I’ve been locked and preserved, I’ve never been touched by anyone. Is this how its supposed to be?” It then fell silent, its thoughts wandering and reflecting until it realized that its being magically alive may not last long either. This gift of life may only be fleeting and momentary as is with Christmas with each passing year. He is not even sure if coming to life will happen again. Surely, there must be a reason for all this. But what? What must it do? Why did it come to life on this particular day? What was its purpose for being?

For hours, the mint-copy HIYAS kept looking down at the wooden chest thinking of all the worn-out copies inside and the kind of life they led. Voices can then be heard at the other end of the door. There was music, and people were singing Christmas songs, laughing and giggling.

The mint-copy HIYAS thought for a moment. Finally, it took a deep breath, slipped out of the glass case and ran back towards the wooden chest. It opened the lid and peeked inside. “Sure hope you guys have room for one more,” it joked. The worn-out and damaged copies looked up, smiled back, and waved at it to jump aboard.

It did.

Romanticizing Martial Law

Though media censorship was prevalent during martial law in the 1970s, one always seems to imagine that this decade produced MANY critically acclaimed Filipino movies. Some even go so far as to dubiously claim that the number of such films is an indicator of just how many the more creative and logically written Filipino komiks were made at the time. Former Media Specialist of Imelda Marcos' public relations office and part-time komiks writer and illustrator of the 1970s, Jo Mari Lee, wistfully shares that view:

“Komiks and Tagalog movies were linked since time immemorial, and the Tagalog movies are the best gauge on how good or bad the komiks were in that decade. The 1970s were the best years of the Tagalog movies, and I dare say that, that decade was also the best times in komiks in terms of more logical and creative writing.” (Source: Jose Mari Lee, “A Komiks Sojourn During the Martial Law Years”, from the book: Komiks sa Paningin ng mga Tagakomiks collected and researched by Fermin Salvador and Randy Valiente, Central Book Supply, 2007)

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

In his 1986 article appearing in Clodualdo Del Mundo, Jr.’s “Philippine Mass Media: A Book of Readings”, Film director and Manunuri ng Pelikulang Pilipino movie critic, Pio De Castro III, gives a more factual assessment of the Filipino movie industry of the 70s recalling that out of 156 movies produced every year, only 5 or 6 films were excellent:

“Metro Manila produces an average of 156 movies a year to fill its 81 first-class theaters—which means that some 13 movies are produced every month, or approximately three new movies are shown every week when the theaters change their schedules. Out of the 156 movies produced every year, only five or six reach an acceptable standard of excellence—which means that only 3% of the movies produced every year is worthy of note.” (Emphasis Mine) .“(Source: Pio de Castro III, “Philippine Cinema (1976-1978)”, from the book: “Philippine Mass Media: A Book of Readings” edited by Clodualdo Del Mundo, Jr., Communication Foundation for Asia, 1986).

He continues by giving concrete examples:

“In 1976, only five movies won critical acclaim: Eddie Romero’s GANITO KAMI NOON…PAANO KAYO NGAYON?, Lino Brocka’s INSIANG, Mike De Leon’s ITIM, Lupita Concio’s MINSA’Y ISANG GAMU-GAMO, and Ishmael Bernal’s NUNAL SA TUBIG.

In 1977, only six movies won critical acclaim: Ishmael Bernal’s DALAWANG PUGAD…ISANG IBON, Robert Arevalo’s HUBAD NA BAYANI, Mike De Leon’s KUNG MANGARAP KA’T MAGISING, Lino Brocka’s TAHAN NA EMPOY, TAHAN, Celso Ad Castillo’s BURLESK QUEEN, and Eddie Romero’s BANTA NG KAHAPON.“(Source: Pio de Castro III, “Philippine Cinema (1976-1978)”, from the book: “Philippine Mass Media: A Book of Readings” edited by Clodualdo Del Mundo, Jr., Ibid.).

Fellow Manunuri ng Pelikulang Pilipino film critic, Mario Hernando, continues by giving more concrete examples:

“In 1978, Celso Ad Castillo followed up his relatively low budget drama BURLESK QUEEN with an ambitious romantic and social drama, PAGPUTI NG UWAK, PAG-ITIM NG TAGAK, both starring Vilma Santos. The movie was named by the critics’ group as best picture of the year. The Manunuri also named Bernal’s IKAW AY AKIN and Danny Zialcita’s HINDI SA IYO ANG MUNDO, BABY PORCUNA, as among the year’s best. The other films worthy of mention for 1978 were Bernal’s ISANG GABI SA IYO, ISANG GABI SA AKIN, Brocka’s RUBIA SERVIOS, Eddie Garcia’s ATSAY, and Romy Suzara’s BOY PANA.

In 1979, the year of JAGUAR, Brocka did two other melodramas that deal with family feuds—INA, KAPATID, ANAK…and INA KA NG ANAK MO…both films were box office disappointments but the performances by the cast earned critical acclaim, nominations, and awards. (Source: Mario A. Hernando, “Against All Odds: The Story of the Filipino Film Industry (1978-1982)”, from the book: “Philippine Mass Media: A Book of Readings” edited by Clodualdo Del Mundo, Jr., Communication Foundation for Asia, 1986).

Other notable films of 1979 were Bernal’s BAKIT MAY PAG-IBIG PA? ALIW, and SALAWAHAN, Maryo J. Delos Reyes, HIGH SCHOOL CIRCA ’65, GABUN and Celso Ad Castillo’s ALIW-IW and ANG ALAMAT NI JULIAN MAKABAYAN.

If the number of critically acclaimed 70s Tagalog films determines, and is the best gauge, of the number of Tagalog komiks that were “creatively and logically written”, then from the very few quality Filipino comics works enumerated by Jo Mari Lee, i.e., TUBOG SA GINTO, OO, AKO'Y LALAKI, ANGELA MARKADO, MGA IYAKING PARU-PARO, BRUNA BANGENGAK, AZTEC and TANIKALA, it follows that only a select FEW Tagalog komiks were creatively and logically written during martial law. There is even no showing that the aforementioned number of quality Filipino films were adapted from Komiks stories or that any of the few "serious komiks works" cited by Jo Mari Lee were made into critically praised films of the period. On other hand, if what is meant is that there were many Tagalog komiks works that were made into Tagalog movies during martial law, and that this mere fact of moviemaking morphed the product into a "serious komiks work" many fail to see the connection. You mean, if one just writes a komiks script and its turned into a Tagalog film, its already a "SERIOUS komiks work"?

Pio de Castro III, gives a more credible evaluation of the state of the Filipino movie industry during that repressive era in Philippine history:

"In the last two years, a stench of commercialism has engulfed the moviehouses in Metro Manila, leaving film enthusiasts gasping for breath. Government taxes have not eased up, the prices of raw stocks have gone up, the salaries of movie stars have shot up astronomically (in Lino Brocka’s ANG TATAY KONG NANAY, the combined salaries of Dolphy and Nino Muhlach totaled one million and two hundred pesos), the Interim Board of Censors uses a maddeningly arbitrary code of standards for censoring movie titles, storylines, treatments and scenes of sex and violence in finished movies. Scenes of nudity and excessive violence in American and European movies are allowed to be shown to the public, but equivalent scenes in Pilipino movies are drastically cut.

xxx xxx xxx

These are the reigning formulas. Due to a cultural clean-up as fostered by the administration after the declaration of Martial Law, the Filipino western—a cultural anomaly for a long time—has been abolished. The full-length musical and the war picture have not been in vogue due to expensive production costs. Budget consciousness has also eliminated the fantasy and the horror genre which involves trick photography, costumes, special effects, long shooting schedules, and optical effects in the laboratory. The whodunit genre was never in vogue in local cinema due to its need for an elaborately-plotted screenplay requiring wit and sophistication which the quickie scriptwriter lacks.

Filipino producers are in search for the quick buck. They are not interested in improving the quality of Philippine movies. They will always opt for the formula plot rather than gamble on an original screenplay. The quest for technical excellence is ignored completely. One evidence is disparity in the salaries of superstars and artists, and film technicians like directors, scriptwriters, cameramen, editors, production designers and musical directors. There is no concern for film as art. There is no attempt to standardize film techniques. Producers have no ambition to produce films of quality which will call international attention to Filipino films. Yes, there is a dream to break into the foreign market, but this dream is a fantasy because they want to break into the foreign market without working their backs off in improving the technical quality of their films.” (Source: Pio de Castro III, “Philippine Cinema (1976-1978)”, from the book: “Philippine Mass Media: A Book of Readings” edited by Clodualdo Del Mundo, Jr., Communication Foundation for Asia, 1986).

Clearly then, if we are to properly substantiate the claim that most, if not all, 1970s komiks stories during martial law were more creative and logically written, we cannot, with much regret, subscribe to the bare proposition and ill-conceived syllogism put forth by Mr. Lee. To repeat, Jo Mari Lee in his same article, only gives (in his personal opinion) seven (7) alleged “serious komiks works” that were created during the martial law decade, i.e., TUBOG SA GINTO, OO, AKO’Y LALAKI, ANGELA MARKADO, MGA IYAKING PARU-PARO, BRUNA BANGENGAK, AZTEC and TANIKALA. Yet, he continues to opine that these bare seven (7) are already MANY. Recall that in 1978, it was hypothesized that about 2 million commercially produced komiks magazines bore FORTY FOUR (44) different titles. (Source: Danny Mariano, “In the Name of the Masses”, article appearing in TV Times Magazine, September 10-16, 1978 issue).

As to the number and identity of the serialized komiks stories within these forty four komiks titles, we do not know. The same remains a mystery to this day. There has thus far been no scholarly or objective tally as to the number of “serious komiks works” within these forty four komiks titles properly evaluated by qualified and reputable literary critics to support Mr. Lee’s rather dubious proposition. Them’s the cold, hard facts, Jack.

Indeed, how in heck can one expect to have varied, diverse, competing and thriving “artistic” activity during martial law when in the first place, media freedom was repressed and controlled by a select, elite few? Only seven (7) “serious comics works” during martial law? How privileged. What about the rest that were not given the chance and opportunity to see the light of day? And people are so blissfully nostalgic as to make an imaginative sojourn back into this dark era and pine: “What’s really funny about the martial law years, was that, despite the constriction by the censors, many new ideas emerged. That’s why I consider the 70s the milestone in Philippine komiks. It was on this decade that many serious komiks works were created.” Yet, no voluminous catalog of these so-called “serious komiks works” is presented.

The mainstream comics industry of the martial law era was not only dominated by a resuscitated monopoly of the Roceses, but also mind-controlled by a modified comics code that was broadened to “make the komiks-magasin industry a more effective partner of government in the national developmental effort.” Where is the independent artistic creativity, the logic, the diversity and plurality of "serious comics works" that could possibly flourish from such a scenario? None. (Source: “Self-Censorship in Philippine Komiks”, anonymously written article appearing in the book: “A History of Komiks of the Philippines and other countries” by Cynthia Roxas, et. al., Islas Filipinas Publishing Co., Inc., 1984 ed.)

To make matters even worse, the self-censoring body of the mainstream comics industry during martial law was again dominated by personages from Don Ramon’s group or “family” of comics companies now calling themselves: the Kapisanan ng mga Publisista at mga Patnugot ng mga Komiks-magasin sa Pilipino (KPPKP) which was really a reformed APEPCOM, the former Roces and Catholic church dominated, self-censoring body of local comics from 1955 to 1972. The KPPKP administered the revised KPPKP comics code under strict watch of the Marcos conjugal dictatorship.

In other politically and economically repressed societies of the world in the 1970s, you don't see a widespread flowering of independent and excellent artistic works either. Where, pray tell, were these serious artistic (or comics) works in the Soviet Union, Cuba, Mexico, Vietnam, Laos, Nicaragua, Cambodia, Iran, People's Republic of China and the Philippines of the 1970s? What is the ratio between the good and bad artistic works in such a censored and repressed atmosphere? Compared with relatively free and prosperous countries of the 1970s such as France and Japan where you see MORE serious comics works than the bad ones, the ratio is pretty much in favor of the former.

Indeed, nostalgically romanticizing about the past often makes one feel so deliciously aged and sad. It is at this point that we find application of this phrase most apt: “Nostalgia is a seductive liar”. To quote Brooks Atkinson: “In every age “the good old days” were a myth. No one ever thought they were good at the time. For every age has consisted of crises that seemed intolerable to the people who lived through them.”