Bona (Lino Brocka, 1980)

(When Christian and I saw Bona, I had been in Los Baños for five days running, and my mother had not been subtle with her threats of physical violence. So a ready parallel,  although I haven't been fetching Christian water, doing his toenails, fixing the leak on his roof, etc. I think I am Bona in this relationship; lovelorn, dramatic, though not, obviously,  petite.)

Bona: definition of "done for"

The least that can be said of Bona is that it asks (though never fully answers) age-old questions: about the nature of fanaticism and celebrity worship; about our penchant, our capacity for self-destruction and martyrdom; about the inevitability of and the need for a final reckoning, an accounting of things, and what we are left with in its aftermath.

That the film opened with almost documentary-like scenes from the Black Nazarene procession is an almost naked admonition to see the upcoming narrative in such light: religious, devotional, undergirded by faith. The camera, godlike, then finds Bona (Nora Aunor) among the throng, before cutting into another plane of adulation, consecration, and mythmaking: a movie set. Again, a ready parallel, and in the juxtaposition, we see not only points of similarity but opportunities for one to inform the other and, consequently, subvert each other's values.

Which is to say, in the laid out framework, we see Bona's worship of Gardo (Philip Salvador) as all too human; only in this case, Bona has religion, while everyone else are good-for-nothing atheists. What of this human need, then? Ostracized by her family and relentlessly questioned of her motivation, Bona is not the one deprived here; it is us, who don't understand.

Fixing his roof? Time to reexamine things. Maybe.

For Bona and Gardo took on their roles with such willingness and ease that any questioning can be rebuffed by the sheer bluster and, barring that, "nature:" another familiar operation in religion, especially in light of recent discovery of a "God gene." It is perhaps too much to claim that serving Gardo is hardwired in Bona's brain, although we are made to believe that leaving him had never been option, in the same way that the attraction was never fully accounted for, as the film began with things already in full precarious bloom. (Christian notes that the film takes pains to show that Bona is "sane" by virtue of her interaction with her neighbors. I agree. How crucial is it to rule out madness, though, really, how is the act of loving not madness? Jume-J. Neil!)

Much has been said about the maternal resonance of Bona's doting and the clear infantilism of Gardo's receptiveness; here I think there is ample chance to examine the power relations that govern the uneasy (but also easy) relationship. Who, really, possesses power here? Is it Gardo, the object of adulation, the beneficiary of a beck-and-call servility? Or is it Bona, bringer of sustenance (food), heater of bathwater (cleansing), and steadfast guard of the house from intruders (that is, other women)?

Gardo: he of the sensitive skin and weak lungs

In the final, cathartic scene, we get our answer: how tenderness can be weaponized, how devotion empowers the devotee much more than the devoted upon, how the one who loves is the one who lives.

But even outside the entanglement, we know that their capacities for humanity are oceans apart. Bona is solicitous, whereas Gardo is self-centered. Bona feeds stray puppies on a movie set, while Gardo kicks a lolling cat he encounters on the street. Bona quickly gets along with her new neighbors, while Gardo at one point rips a neighbor's door apart after he is mocked for being forever a bit player. Whereas Gardo can do no more than momentary flings and short-lived pipedreams, Bona looks forward to a life; Bona loves. (It is not as if Bona is unaware of such faults, Christian says; in several scenes, we witness her witnessing Gardo make a fool of himself).

"Gusto ko eh," she tells Nilo (Nanding Josef), one of the many voices of so-called reason in the film (a stand-in, too, I suppose, for the viewers; and, decades later, would play an old doctor in the Yam Laranas horror flick Patient X, which we saw the previous day). "Hindi ako napapagod. Hindi ako nagpapaalila." 

Fine, if you say so, Bona. But during Nilo’s wedding, when her happiness becomes visible for the first time, we get a glimpse of her without Gardo, and she is at her most radiant. More radiant, even, than in that lovely scene when she talks about an apocalyptic dream of fire while bathed in the glow of Manila Bay's sunset. Drunk and clutching a bottle of San Miguel, Bona dances in absolute reverie around a bonfire, to the creepy taunting of singing male neighbors. The "losing" of oneself to love is clearly paradoxical.

So there you go: fire, intoxication, dance. There is little to gain in accusing Bona of being intoxicated with love, of being consumed by fire, of going through the motions. As with most things, our weakness is also our greatest strength. Deprived of everything, Bona's final act of contrition (Christian may have a problem with this word) is an affirmation – not a repudiation – of everything that she did. Here is a love that aspires to endure, razing anything that will block its way; even, as we have seen, the beloved. And we realize it is not about him. The beloved has not been, will never be, the point.

PS. To be sure, a conflation is at work here. Did she really love him? And what of this essentializing? Doesn't love feed off specificities? On this note, love you, Christian!