Salamangkiero (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} salamangkiero) wrote,@ 2004-12-14 02:59:00 |
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To die without seeing the dawn.
FPJ died this morning, in twilight, before the dawn.
As FPJ the Man, he was a man of hubris, of frailty and glory put together. He was a hero in the cultural mind, but a man of questionable standing politically; he encapsulated the best and the worst of what it meant to be a Filipino. And even though he descended into the depths of politics, there was still about him that aura of glory, that aura of immortality.
He had, days before, nearly succumbed to a filmic ending - falling to his knees and dizzy while playing with Sheryl Cruz's child. That would have been a page ripped out of The Godfather, but FPJ being most of all a glorified reflection of the masses who loved him, he chose to collapse instead while engaging in a party-cum-drinking-session, over a couple of beers and pulutan. He bided his time in the hospital, and still got his glorious ending: Grown men crying in the streets, women wailing at the top of their lungs, and actors shedding real tears of grief. It is the end of an era.
He was always the one and only Panday - the blacksmith who forged a magical sword made out of a meteorite, the man who came to right all wrongs. He was the neighborhood toughie, who came to the aid of the damsel in distress, believing in the law of the street, while upholding the law of the land. And yet, this, too, was the man who was rumored to have a violent temper, who was rumored to aim guns at people, to use the weight of his influence for his own ends.
What was he?
Perhaps, with his death, we should realize that two men died today - FPJ, and the Panday. Many will mourn the death of the actor, the man, but still more will mourn the death of the ideal.
For the FPJ was the figure that, when light shone upon him, cast the brightest shadow unto the screen. In creating that reverse-shadow, he created an ideal, a certain truth, that while not real in his own life, became real on the silver screen. And for that alone, he was a great actor - that he was able to refine and purify what spark of greatness was in him, to create something truly immortal.
The Panday had his enchanted sword, it was his depth of character, his conviction, his perseverance that made him Panday; even at his funniest, when he was killing hundreds of ninjas with a running slash, there was still that glory, that immutable feeling that he was the Panday. No one else.
And so the Panday will now pass into myth - if he hasn't already. He will be our Urban Arthur, sleeping in our cave of memory, with his sword, to sleep the sleep of kings. The Panday is each and every one of us, sleeping through strange times, waiting for the day to come when he shall be called, waiting for the day when he will be able to hold the sword in his hands again. It will be a great and terrible day, for this world is more and more a place not for Arthurs, nor for blacksmiths. Meteorites are, not be used for the forging of swords, and evil does not come in the purified form of Lizardos. But perhaps it will take the cruelty and glory of the Panday to recreate our world.
"Delubyo!", Pilosopo Tasyo shouted, calling upon the waters of the sky, to wash away all that is rotten in our society, and so it is with the Panday, should he use metal born of fire from the heavens to bring about an apocalypse to end an age of evil.
But wait.
FPJ died today; would not the Panday mourn for him, or consider him best dead before he can bring about more trouble? The answer would probably be both and neither, for that is the tragedy of FPJ and the Panday: though FPJ created the Panday, FPJ is only a shadow of his creation - a brilliant, shining spark as compared to the Flame that is the Panday. The Panday can pass on to the world of legend, but will FPJ join him? He should, if only to remind people of the good and the bad that are present in everyone of us.
So let us mourn the passing of the man who sired the legend, and let us mourn the passing of the image that clothes the ideal. For those who knew him well, mourn the passing of a man who has touched the lives of many, and for those who knew him for his work on the screen, mourn the passing of a man who made dreams come true, if only for a little while. FPJ was a complex man - a real person, and as such, we should honor his humanity, both good and bad. But the Panday - how can we mourn that which has no body, but is only an ideal? We cannot. We can only make sure that the ideal lives on.
The King is dead, long live the king; and in time, perhaps some other person will be able to forge a new legend, a new sword, as it were, and so wake up the king again.
Exeunt.
FPJ died this morning, in twilight, before the dawn.
As FPJ the Man, he was a man of hubris, of frailty and glory put together. He was a hero in the cultural mind, but a man of questionable standing politically; he encapsulated the best and the worst of what it meant to be a Filipino. And even though he descended into the depths of politics, there was still about him that aura of glory, that aura of immortality.
He had, days before, nearly succumbed to a filmic ending - falling to his knees and dizzy while playing with Sheryl Cruz's child. That would have been a page ripped out of The Godfather, but FPJ being most of all a glorified reflection of the masses who loved him, he chose to collapse instead while engaging in a party-cum-drinking-session, over a couple of beers and pulutan. He bided his time in the hospital, and still got his glorious ending: Grown men crying in the streets, women wailing at the top of their lungs, and actors shedding real tears of grief. It is the end of an era.
He was always the one and only Panday - the blacksmith who forged a magical sword made out of a meteorite, the man who came to right all wrongs. He was the neighborhood toughie, who came to the aid of the damsel in distress, believing in the law of the street, while upholding the law of the land. And yet, this, too, was the man who was rumored to have a violent temper, who was rumored to aim guns at people, to use the weight of his influence for his own ends.
What was he?
Perhaps, with his death, we should realize that two men died today - FPJ, and the Panday. Many will mourn the death of the actor, the man, but still more will mourn the death of the ideal.
For the FPJ was the figure that, when light shone upon him, cast the brightest shadow unto the screen. In creating that reverse-shadow, he created an ideal, a certain truth, that while not real in his own life, became real on the silver screen. And for that alone, he was a great actor - that he was able to refine and purify what spark of greatness was in him, to create something truly immortal.
The Panday had his enchanted sword, it was his depth of character, his conviction, his perseverance that made him Panday; even at his funniest, when he was killing hundreds of ninjas with a running slash, there was still that glory, that immutable feeling that he was the Panday. No one else.
And so the Panday will now pass into myth - if he hasn't already. He will be our Urban Arthur, sleeping in our cave of memory, with his sword, to sleep the sleep of kings. The Panday is each and every one of us, sleeping through strange times, waiting for the day to come when he shall be called, waiting for the day when he will be able to hold the sword in his hands again. It will be a great and terrible day, for this world is more and more a place not for Arthurs, nor for blacksmiths. Meteorites are, not be used for the forging of swords, and evil does not come in the purified form of Lizardos. But perhaps it will take the cruelty and glory of the Panday to recreate our world.
"Delubyo!", Pilosopo Tasyo shouted, calling upon the waters of the sky, to wash away all that is rotten in our society, and so it is with the Panday, should he use metal born of fire from the heavens to bring about an apocalypse to end an age of evil.
But wait.
FPJ died today; would not the Panday mourn for him, or consider him best dead before he can bring about more trouble? The answer would probably be both and neither, for that is the tragedy of FPJ and the Panday: though FPJ created the Panday, FPJ is only a shadow of his creation - a brilliant, shining spark as compared to the Flame that is the Panday. The Panday can pass on to the world of legend, but will FPJ join him? He should, if only to remind people of the good and the bad that are present in everyone of us.
So let us mourn the passing of the man who sired the legend, and let us mourn the passing of the image that clothes the ideal. For those who knew him well, mourn the passing of a man who has touched the lives of many, and for those who knew him for his work on the screen, mourn the passing of a man who made dreams come true, if only for a little while. FPJ was a complex man - a real person, and as such, we should honor his humanity, both good and bad. But the Panday - how can we mourn that which has no body, but is only an ideal? We cannot. We can only make sure that the ideal lives on.
The King is dead, long live the king; and in time, perhaps some other person will be able to forge a new legend, a new sword, as it were, and so wake up the king again.
Exeunt.
