Sagrado ang kasal (marriage is sacred) – that’s the recurring line in ABS-CBN’s evening kiligserye “On the Wings of Love”. It’s not too misplaced in a Catholic country, but to some degree, anachronistic at a time when only one out of three Filipino couples wed in church. That’s why civil weddings are done with less pomp and celebration, more for need and convenience. Then the common question for the bride and groom is, when’s the church wedding?
Newlyweds Leah (Nadine Lustre) and Clark (James Reid) take the plunge in circumstances so far from the Filipino tradition. Their reason is practical and logical: to secure a green card for the girl, and eventually to realize the American dream for her and her family. Their timing is perfect: just as girl’s visa is about to expire, and right when the boy is hard-pressed for cash. It sets the show for romance and drama, and because this is a TV show, impeccable destiny.
Leah, the girl raised on her father’s conventional beliefs, invariably fails to appreciate the union. Over the past several episodes, she’s gone from hesitant bride to the happy roommate to, at best, cautious girlfriend. She sounds thoroughly unconvinced when she speaks of Clark as her spouse. Two weeks ago, for happy memory number 5, she takes a photo of Clark by the door as he leaves. “My husband,” she says with a straight face. The entire scene she is wracked with tension , and when the door closes she leans on it in tears.
Clark, without a positive family model eversince, seems much more assured. He knows it’s for show, but he nails the small things that make it all believable. A hand here, a caress there, and that melting gaze everywhere. He is impossibly perceptive, creeping up on Leah as she struggles with her growing feelings. In his rawest he is almost feral in his belief. “Nobody. Touches. My. Wife,” he says as he beats up thugs who had accosted Leah on the street. Technically married and in love with his wife, he refuses to divorce her when the deal is done.
Right on. Clark and Leah, though green card holders (US legal residents), are still bound by Philippine law because they have not yet lost their citizenship (ahem, natural-born). Their marriage, even if officiated abroad, is so closely defined by our law. Article I of the Family Code goes: “Marriage is a special contract of permanent union between a man and a woman entered into in accordance with law for the establishment of conjugal and family life.” In one sentence weighty public policies are established: no divorce, no same-sex marriage, no polygamy. True, the legal relationship can be severed through annulment and nullity, secured before Philippine courts. But there can be no divorce, in its legal meaning, until either Clark or Leah gets US citizenship.
That means getting married, for a Filipino is a decision for life. There are several ways to get out of it alive, however. Among them, consent is a crucial element. You can ask for invalidation of weddings when you weren’t free to say yes: shotgun weddings, proxy weddings. The trendier ground of psychological incapacity, involving a real psychiatrist, is a declaration that one was mentally screwed up – baliw (crazy) – and wasn’t ready for marriage and is incapable of commiting to its obligations.
So it seems, the OFW community in San Francisco, plus Jigs (Albie Casiño), Leah’s effortlessly annoying ex-boyfriend, are mistaken. Clark and Leah’s “fake marriage”, barring any mistake on the part of US immigration investigators in checking the formal andessential requisites, was legit.
The current conflict now revolves on how the characters understand this marriage, and marriage in general. Leah thinks this is basically a paper contract; Clark wants to stand by his promise to have and to hold. Jigs believes the Clark and Leah can just sign it away; his mother and the promotor of it all, Tita Jack (Cherry Pie Picache) just wants to stick to the original plan.
It is Leah’s father Tatang Sol (Joel Torre) who will obviously frame the issue as beyond legal, business, and hopefully even religion. He will guide the story back to the fundamental question: Why do people get married?
Why stay together? Because of love, Tatang Sol will say. Because of love, you will be able to trust and, if needed, to forgive unconditionally. Love will make you sure and secure. For poetic metaphor, Pigeon Mekeni will return to dispel all cynicism and show how impressive mapagpalayang pag-ibig (liberating love) can be.
Every teleserye is resolved with an affirmation of love and marriage, and OTWOL cannot be an exception. Clearly , the pressure is on to supply a magnificent and evocative church wedding scene – wait for it by Christmas or Valentines’. It will be the love team Jadine’s first, so expectations are high from fans of the young stars.
OTWOL nonetheless can play with the script along the way. As long as Jadine (and is this in the contract? James’ torso) is given screen time to work their magic, the writers can engage in intelligent storytelling and realistic discourse. Leah takes a dig at Customs inspection policy as she fills up a balikbayan box. Clark echoes many OFWs when he says, heartbroken after Leah leaves him in the US: “I don’t have time to be upset. May mga umaasa sa akin sa Pilipinas. ([My siblings] in the Philippines depend on me.)” Tita Jack runs newbies through migration realities, showing them the jobs that OFWs take on to survive. There will be cliches, but pray none which weaken the excellently and quietly provocative social commentary about traffic, OFWs, and the working-class. (I think there should even be a discussion of divorce, especially for cases of abusive relationships. The expectations are high from the fans of the script and creative direction.)
Jadine needs this kind of clever material to become a formidable drama team. Right now undeniably, they are a natural at sparking kilig - incredibly hard to fake - onscreen. They have cultivated a fan based by being wickedly meta –the endearment terms “hubby” and “wifey” were first used in a previous film; Clark posts on Leah’s corkboard a photo of the tuyo kissing scene from another one. Jadine’s powerful chemistry, especially when singing or dancing, is precious and bankable in the long run.
Jadine in OTWOL threads through double layers of pretend and fantasy to reassure those who believe in marriage, those who believe in forever, and those who believe in both. Even better, OTWOL uplifts all fragile beings: those who are strong enough to be honest than live in delusion. Most especially, those who choose to be single and inspired, rather than committed but confused.#
Krissy Conti is a people's lawyer. Originally published on thepoc.net..
Newlyweds Leah (Nadine Lustre) and Clark (James Reid) take the plunge in circumstances so far from the Filipino tradition. Their reason is practical and logical: to secure a green card for the girl, and eventually to realize the American dream for her and her family. Their timing is perfect: just as girl’s visa is about to expire, and right when the boy is hard-pressed for cash. It sets the show for romance and drama, and because this is a TV show, impeccable destiny.
Leah, the girl raised on her father’s conventional beliefs, invariably fails to appreciate the union. Over the past several episodes, she’s gone from hesitant bride to the happy roommate to, at best, cautious girlfriend. She sounds thoroughly unconvinced when she speaks of Clark as her spouse. Two weeks ago, for happy memory number 5, she takes a photo of Clark by the door as he leaves. “My husband,” she says with a straight face. The entire scene she is wracked with tension , and when the door closes she leans on it in tears.
Clark, without a positive family model eversince, seems much more assured. He knows it’s for show, but he nails the small things that make it all believable. A hand here, a caress there, and that melting gaze everywhere. He is impossibly perceptive, creeping up on Leah as she struggles with her growing feelings. In his rawest he is almost feral in his belief. “Nobody. Touches. My. Wife,” he says as he beats up thugs who had accosted Leah on the street. Technically married and in love with his wife, he refuses to divorce her when the deal is done.
Right on. Clark and Leah, though green card holders (US legal residents), are still bound by Philippine law because they have not yet lost their citizenship (ahem, natural-born). Their marriage, even if officiated abroad, is so closely defined by our law. Article I of the Family Code goes: “Marriage is a special contract of permanent union between a man and a woman entered into in accordance with law for the establishment of conjugal and family life.” In one sentence weighty public policies are established: no divorce, no same-sex marriage, no polygamy. True, the legal relationship can be severed through annulment and nullity, secured before Philippine courts. But there can be no divorce, in its legal meaning, until either Clark or Leah gets US citizenship.
That means getting married, for a Filipino is a decision for life. There are several ways to get out of it alive, however. Among them, consent is a crucial element. You can ask for invalidation of weddings when you weren’t free to say yes: shotgun weddings, proxy weddings. The trendier ground of psychological incapacity, involving a real psychiatrist, is a declaration that one was mentally screwed up – baliw (crazy) – and wasn’t ready for marriage and is incapable of commiting to its obligations.
So it seems, the OFW community in San Francisco, plus Jigs (Albie Casiño), Leah’s effortlessly annoying ex-boyfriend, are mistaken. Clark and Leah’s “fake marriage”, barring any mistake on the part of US immigration investigators in checking the formal andessential requisites, was legit.
The current conflict now revolves on how the characters understand this marriage, and marriage in general. Leah thinks this is basically a paper contract; Clark wants to stand by his promise to have and to hold. Jigs believes the Clark and Leah can just sign it away; his mother and the promotor of it all, Tita Jack (Cherry Pie Picache) just wants to stick to the original plan.
It is Leah’s father Tatang Sol (Joel Torre) who will obviously frame the issue as beyond legal, business, and hopefully even religion. He will guide the story back to the fundamental question: Why do people get married?
Why stay together? Because of love, Tatang Sol will say. Because of love, you will be able to trust and, if needed, to forgive unconditionally. Love will make you sure and secure. For poetic metaphor, Pigeon Mekeni will return to dispel all cynicism and show how impressive mapagpalayang pag-ibig (liberating love) can be.
Every teleserye is resolved with an affirmation of love and marriage, and OTWOL cannot be an exception. Clearly , the pressure is on to supply a magnificent and evocative church wedding scene – wait for it by Christmas or Valentines’. It will be the love team Jadine’s first, so expectations are high from fans of the young stars.
OTWOL nonetheless can play with the script along the way. As long as Jadine (and is this in the contract? James’ torso) is given screen time to work their magic, the writers can engage in intelligent storytelling and realistic discourse. Leah takes a dig at Customs inspection policy as she fills up a balikbayan box. Clark echoes many OFWs when he says, heartbroken after Leah leaves him in the US: “I don’t have time to be upset. May mga umaasa sa akin sa Pilipinas. ([My siblings] in the Philippines depend on me.)” Tita Jack runs newbies through migration realities, showing them the jobs that OFWs take on to survive. There will be cliches, but pray none which weaken the excellently and quietly provocative social commentary about traffic, OFWs, and the working-class. (I think there should even be a discussion of divorce, especially for cases of abusive relationships. The expectations are high from the fans of the script and creative direction.)
Jadine needs this kind of clever material to become a formidable drama team. Right now undeniably, they are a natural at sparking kilig - incredibly hard to fake - onscreen. They have cultivated a fan based by being wickedly meta –the endearment terms “hubby” and “wifey” were first used in a previous film; Clark posts on Leah’s corkboard a photo of the tuyo kissing scene from another one. Jadine’s powerful chemistry, especially when singing or dancing, is precious and bankable in the long run.
Jadine in OTWOL threads through double layers of pretend and fantasy to reassure those who believe in marriage, those who believe in forever, and those who believe in both. Even better, OTWOL uplifts all fragile beings: those who are strong enough to be honest than live in delusion. Most especially, those who choose to be single and inspired, rather than committed but confused.#
Krissy Conti is a people's lawyer. Originally published on thepoc.net..