As a little boy, cinema for me was that magic bulb at the corner of a house, a block away from my grandparents’ home in San Fernando, in Ticao Island. There was only one movie house in the town and, I believe, in the entire island. It bore a simple title “Lita.” There was no fixed schedule for the movies. One looked out to that big house at the far end of the street: If the bulb was lighted, it only meant one thing—there was a “Now Showing.”
What is a celebration of 100 years without those great, grand movies? But then again, what becomes of a celebration when there are no more copies of the films of those bygone years?
Memories could be enough but, thanks to the new technologies, we can remember, revisit even these old movies. For the cineastes, YouTube contains many of these movies mentioned.
For months now, I have started viewing these old films—some for curiosity and mostly for research. In the end, I’m more assured that memories can be tricky and the collective memories can be quite disconcerting. One wonders what happens between the personal reminiscences and the social construction of the popular cultures around these films. Where does the image of ideal Filipina in Carmen Rosales come from? What makes a good performance in those periods? What was the notion of masculinity? Of chivalry, if ever there was?
Talk of old movies and one comes up with two names: Carmen Rosales and Rogelio de la Rosa. The still photos and the extant copies of the many films they had made reveal two actors who were already mature when they started essaying those immortal roles of lovers. Rosales and de la Rosa defined the times with loves that were pure from the beginning, getting star-crossed in the middle, but reaching a lush and joyful resolution at the end.
Impersonations of Carmen Rosales and Rogelio de la Rosa in contemporary revues and musical tributes always point to lovesick couple and maudlin romantic entanglements. Watching these films, however, I feel I’m stumbling upon quirky discoveries. The songs belie the dark sides of the story mainly again because, after many years, these songs are remembered as songs and not as element in a film with a sordid twist or a convoluted, impure conflict. “Ang Tangi Kong Pag-ibig” conjures a gilded era when love was loyal and women betrothed were virginal. But in the film of Rosales/de la Rosa with the same title, Rosales is a club singer with a past, running into the embrace of a pure man whose virility and wholesome image are default courtesy of a farm setting.
Maalaala Mo Kaya is another vintage Rosales/de la Rosa tandem which, when viewed again, reveals performances meant to be reviewed by students of cinema aesthetics. The dramatic scenes are over the top and almost embarrassing in their directness; the lines are florid. Delivered in the suave baritone of de la Rosa, the sweet nothings become paean to the manners and courtship of yesterdays either imagined or manufactured by the studios. Deserving of close-ups, Carmen Rosales can be childish and childlike, a waif and a wanton woman. Here in Maalaala Mo Kaya, she is a lovely and willing victim of love, eternally in tears until the last shot when she is assured her real love is back and will be hers forever. Yes, there is forever in the cinemas of Rosales and de la Rosa.
In my new memory of Maalaala Mo Kaya, Dolphy is already in the picture. Strangely enough when we recall this film and talk about Rosales and de la Rosa, we rarely mention Dolphy as being an effective sideck, a scene-stealer really, in the film.
Maalaala Mo Kaya was from Sampaguita and made in 1954. And, of course, featured in the film is Carmen Rosales singing the title song.
Rogelio de la Rosa plays again a composer in this film. Much earlier, in 1946, the actor played the role of the composer of the Bikol song “Sarung Banggi,” in the film with the same title. In this film, de la Rosa goes to the city, presents his song, becomes successful, is seduced by Rosa Rosal, and forgets—temporarily—that he has a sweetheart waiting for him in his hometown. The film, however, ends happily with de la Rosa’s composer going back to the village in time for Christmas Mass and his love, Mila del Sol. In Maalala Mo Kaya, Rogelio de la Rosa also plays a composer who goes to the city to sell his composition and, in the process, sells his body and soul to commerce and to Patria Plata, one of the unheralded female contravidas of the ’50s and ’60s.
Mila del Sol is another matter in Sarung Banggi. The postwar moral code found offensive the scene where her character raises her skirt (a sarong really) up above the knee. This shocked the world then!
In Maalaala Mo Kaya, Rosa Mia essays one of her favorite roles—the Mater Dolorosa. She goes blind, is operated on courtesy of the money of the woman who seduces her son, and is battered by the same rich woman played with such evil aplomb by Plata.
Rosa Mia played roles beyond her age in many films. Very few people know that Rosa Mia directed films. She would direct Carmen Rosales in a film called Octavia.
In Octavia, a story from the prolific pen of Pablo S. Gomez, Carmen Rosales plays an aging movie star, Hanna Quintos, who interrupts the rehearsal and shoot of a musical scene by a new singing sensation, Octavia Moravia. As the new singer sings “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” the diva of Carmen Rosales enters the soundstage reminiscent of the entrance of Margo Channing/Bette Davis in All About Eve. All venom and virago, Rosales/Quintos slaps Octavia and declares war on upstarts.
Octavia is played by a very young Lolita Rodriguez, scheming and sensual in a contravida role. The conflict between the two escalates until Octavia and Hanna have another confrontation. This time Hanna Quintos has a gun and shoots Octavia Moravia. Patria Plata playing the role of the scorned woman also has a gun in Maalaala Mo Kaya. Women in those films of the fantastic ’50s had guns!
One can enjoy Carmen Rosales in Octavia as she sings “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and “So In Love.” In the period of dubbing, the voice of Lolita Rodriguez also singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” remains an interesting question.
There are more questions about the films in those periods. I still don’t have answers. I am certain though I would find more films like I did, as a young boy, hopeful for that yellow bulb to light the edge of the magnificent, magical Lita Theatre seen from my grandparents’ home in Ticao.