Of funerals, Dolphy's passing, National Artist award, and the state of Philippine comedy

I’ve been to two wakes just the other day; one wake me and my wife intentionally visited, the other we just chanced upon as we got out of the funeral chapel with clear glass panels and innocently gazed inside another to find a familiar face in a very forlorn state– she lost her father who was a few days short from celebrating his 50^th birthday.

I could have gone to a third because another friend and former colleague lost his father, this time to violent circumstances, except that I have lost my taste for funeral food on the first stop.  There’s only so much grief one can expose himself to in a day before he succumbs to cadaver-viewing fatigue.

Then the news of another death came; one that is expected for months but is just as saddening as any other deaths that come suddenly:  Dolphy, the King of Philippine Comedy, is gone.

From all accounts Dolphy, Rodolfo Quizon in real life, was a well-loved, and deeply respected man who touched countless lives not only through his more than 200 movies and sitcoms stretched over more than a half century of local entertainment history, but also through his warm and genuine persona outside of the showbiz spotlight .  It is ironic then that the man who made so many people laugh has now made so many cry and ponder.

Dolphy is proof that one imperfect man can impact on the lives of so many without resorting to hogging the spotlight or making a fanfare out of his gifts and talents. Many less gifted and less talented have created more hoopla out of their meager accomplishments.  But I guess they have to do that, otherwise they can’t convince even themselves that they are worth even half the fame that they are getting – Ehem-ehemirevillame!  Ehem-ehemice Ganda!  Ehem-ehemoey De Leon!

It is rather funny and at the same time sad that Dolphy is being touted as the next National Artist when he has -- aside from tribute shows for him and the occasional guest appearances in TV shows and obligatory talk show interviews – practically done nothing to enrich local show business or the arts since 2009, the last time he was nominated but surprisingly turned down for the said honor.  Majority, if not all of his rather impressive and extensive bodies of work occurred prior to that year, when he was still able to withstand the rigors of acting before the camera, not after when he was already battling old age and the illnesses that betray his suffering body.

So what’s the difference now and before his first nomination?  Nothing.  Except that he is now  dead and can’t hear the applause, bask in the accolade and retire in the knowledge that he is being honored while he is still alive.  Not that he needed it anyway.  Dolphy was not a man who would insist that he be given such an honor.  He was much too proud, too humble to do that.

Art, as they say, is subjective.  Hence, the distinguished panel of the National Commission for Culture and Arts of 2009 bestowed the National Artist title to Carlo J. Caparas, the comics novelist, the billion-peso writer, producer and director of PCSO teleseryes that nobody watched and remembered, and the famed director of massacre movies of the 1990s featuring the very versatile acting of Kris Aquino whose go-to acting technique of the woman with the wide-eyes, crunched-brows and pursed lips sufficed to convey all sorts of emotions that a poor lass being raped, slashed, stabbed, frightened and/or threatened will go through.

Oh, how that worked.  Brilliant!  And who could forget Caparas’ favorite cinematic effect – the slow motion, shot from several angles, with the blood-curdling scream of the victim slowed down as well to match the impeccable camera work.  That is what you call contribution to national artistry.

Now poor us.  Dolphy is gone.  He stopped doing movies a long time ago.  There was a plan to shoot a sitcom for TV5, but his poor health prevented this from ever materializing.  

The King of Comedy is gone but Philippine comedy is alive and kicking.  There is Joey De Leon – another old but proud remnant of comedies past who refuse to be overtaken by time.  In fact, he still sticks to his gay slapstick tricks that portray homosexuals as screaming faggots that deserve to be laughed at and scorned.  He still treats ordinary people with condescending ire every time they participate in Eat Bulaga’s inane game shows and fail to answer what he thinks are information that everyone should know: Pambihira naman ito, para (right answer) di mo pa alam?

And we have Vice Ganda who, in his daily noon time show, makes people laugh by pointing out the weaknesses, ugliness, and frailties of unwary people regardless if he is a studio contestant or a hapless part of the audience who happens to attract Vice Ganda’s probing eyes and acerbic tongue.

And we have Willie Revillame who, in an effort to show a bleeding heart for the common people, refuses to show common decency and respect to his inattentive, or inept (in his view) dancers, staff or crew.  He has Pinoys laughing while his contestants and studio audience swallow pride and human dignity to make fools of themselves on national TV, to get a handful of cash and at times a dressing down from Willie.

Dolphy portrayed gay characters in his movies and TV shows.  But he showed the human person, not the caricature that others like Joey so often play for a quick laugh.  Yes, he also made fun of imperfections, but mostly of his own.  Yes, he too had a generous heart; one that was not paired with a vocal mouth.

Dolphy is gone but Philippine comedy is still alive.  And that is sad.