Tribute night for the 2022 National Artists at the CCP last June 29 (Photo from Roland Raymond Roldan’s FB page)
LAST June 10, Antonio “Tony” Ocampo Mabesa was declared one of eight new National Artists of the Philippines for his “contributions to the growth and diversity of Philippine theater.”
It came posthumously, as “Mababes” (like in “my babes”), as his students, mentees, and disciples in Philippine theater called him (though never to his face, although he knew, of course), died on October 4, 2019, at the age of 84. A dear friend, lighting director Shax Siasoco, had called me at work that evening and blurted out, “Are you driving? No? Wala na si Mababes.”
The incredible memories of my own experiences in Philippine theater, which I owed wholly and completely to this man, left me sobbing—but I kept working. You just keep working and do your best, Mababes told me once. By the time he died, I had known him for 29 years.
Photos of friend Alex Cortez at Mabesa’s humble resting place in Los Baños, Laguna (Photo from Alexander Cortez’s FB page)
Mababes was born in Los Baños, Laguna, in 1935, a place he would go home to regularly until his death, and actually earned a degree in agriculture before he realized he wanted to plant other seeds, so to speak. He earned his MFA in Theater from the University of California, Los Angeles in 1965 and an MA in Education from the University of Delaware in 1969, with further studies in dramatic literature at the University of Minnesota. He founded Dulaang UP in 1976, pushed to establish a theater arts degree program at the state university in 1978, and established the UP Playwrights’ Theater in 1980, where outstanding Filipino works were given focus.
When he offered me my first role in a Dulaang UP play in 1990—Helga in the first Philippine staging of David Henry Hwang’s M. Butterfly—while we were part of a crowd being filmed for a San Miguel beer commercial, sailing on a barge on the Pasig River, I was aghast and skeptical. His gravitas was unmistakable, his beautiful baritone voice and bulging eyes overwhelming.
“So when is the audition?” I asked “No more na,” he replied. “The role is yours.” As it turned out, Mababes had that habit—spotting somebody who interested him or whom he could see in a role, and casting him or her cold.
I did have some experience acting with Tanghalang Ateneo, but nothing prepared me for working with Mababes. I was, at least, at age 26, smart enough to realize that I was in the presence of greatness. Yes, I thought, as I got to know him better, interviewed him a few times about his past, and was exposed more and more to his encyclopedic knowledge and vast experience, this man could indeed someday be—no, he deserved to be—a National Artist.
He always smelled wonderful and was impeccably groomed because he didn’t want to be ‘amoy lupa’ in his old age
Even as he was gracious, elegant, and witty in casual or philosophical conversation—we shared so many post-rehearsal or post-performance drinks—Mababes was truly the “Lion of the Theater” when he was working, and I was there when that lion’s mane turned from black to white over the years—and when he roared loudest. He always, always smelled wonderful and was impeccably groomed because he didn’t want to be “amoy lupa” in his old age, he insisted.
In his later years, his trademark was an exquisite scarf worn around his neck, some exotic piece of fabric from Peru or Nepal that he brought home. In fact, during his 80th birthday celebration, guests were asked to bring scarves that we hung around his neck like some Indian deity. The familiar joke was that if somebody had bombed the hall that night, Philippine theater would be annihilated—that was how richly complete and distinguished the guest list was.
The first reading of a script was always exciting, as actors sat in a circle and read lines. When I once showed up after recovering from a cough, he praised my “cognac and cigarettes voice,” a refreshing change from my often nasal “boses k—i” stage tone, he declared. When he directed the movements, he could tell if you were a foot or so off from where you ought to be. “My blocking is impeccable,” he boomed. “Do not change it.”
Tony Mabesa at ‘home’ at UP’s Guerrero Theater (photo from Arkel Suaco Mendoza’s FB page)
When he rehearsed a play, he sat in the theater seats, in the dark, with a student or young actor beside him taking down his comments. When he was amused, he would laugh heartily; when he couldn’t resist the incompetence, he would bark out instructions. When he was really pissed, he would shout, the walls of Guerrero Theater reverberating with his booming voice. When he stormed up the stage—that wait for him to reach you was interminable—you were pretty much screwed. Then, he would backtrack, gentler but still firm, and show you how to do a part, from gestures and facial expressions to posture and tone of voice. It was mesmerizing to watch him be anybody and anything—man, woman, hero, villain, joyful, miserable—and how he knew exactly what he wanted.
A frequent guest in our productions before his death in 1995 was no less than playwright Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero himself—’Yung kapangalan ng theater’
FB post of director, professor, and Mabesa’s close friend Alex Cortez
That realization that he was bound for national recognition was laced with a bit of sadness, though. A frequent guest in our productions before his death in 1995 was no less than playwright Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero himself—“Yung kapangalan ng theater,” the kids would joke respectfully, as we were, after all, rehearsing at the Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero Theater on the University of the Philippines campus. The elderly Guerrero would show up, rattling on as the then younger directors like Mababes, Alexander Cortez, Anton Juan, and Ogie Juliano listened patiently. Guerrero was posthumously declared a National Artist in 1997, but he died with no major worldly possessions to his name. I was already worrying even then: did this same fate await dear, proud Mababes?
Thus, the discovery of movie and television work later in life, thanks to friend and fellow theater stalwart-turned-film director Joel Lamangan, was a welcome grace, not only because it was a chance to play around with a new medium, but because it actually secured Mababes’ lifestyle. He always joked about dying poor, because he wanted to spend his money while he was still alive. Soon he was busy with tapings for TV teleseryes, and acting for film directors like Lamangan and Marilou Diaz-Abaya (who was declared National Artist along with him). Mababes got himself a car and a driver for tapings, and was travelling to exotic places by himself or with friends.
The film career reached its apex with Mababes winning the Best Supporting Actor Award during the 2018 Metro Manila Film Festival and the Best Actor Award from the 52nd Worldfest Houston International Film Festival in Texas for Lamangan’s Rainbow’s Sunset, where Mabesa and the late Eddie Garcia played long-time gay lovers. In that film, Mababes—coy, authentic, poignant—was magnificent.
In Joel Lamangan’s ‘Rainbow’s Sunset,’ Mababes—coy, authentic, poignant—was magnificent
I was relieved at this new career development—but happily, he always returned to the theater, directing a play almost every semester. He was set to open Lope de Vega’s Fuente Ovejuna when he died.
I always knew Mababes was fond of me, and I returned the affection. He would call me over and hand me a plum or a can of Diet Coke from his stocked cooler during rehearsals. He proudly recommended me for a book project when he was teaching at Angeles University in Pampanga. He called me when he learned I had breast cancer in 2013, and gave me the biggest hug when I, with a bald head and between chemotherapy treatments, went to see a play he directed at UP. Later, after his death, I would hear from an Angeles colleague and from his niece that he always spoke fondly of me, and I wasn’t surprised. When Mababes loved you, he loved you. And I guess the biggest kick now is realizing that I had loved, and been loved by, a National Artist.
That was certainly true of the generations of actors he trained more intensively, some of whom have become Philippine stage and cinema’s best: Shamaine Centenera, Nonie Buencamino, Irma Adlawan, Eugene Domingo, Andoy Ranay, Frances Makil-Ignacio, Dolly de Leon (who recently stole the thunder at Cannes).
He was delighted when, for one New Year’s Eve, a now very successful Domingo and Ranay flew him (business class) to New York to watch several Broadway plays. At the tribute to Mababes after his death, a trio of his brilliant angels—Ignacio, de Leon, and Stella Cañete-Mendoza—delivered monologues in voices shaking with sorrow.
Arkel Mendoza’s ‘National Artist conversation’ with Mabesa
After his proclamation as National Artist, another student, Arkel Mendoza, posted on Facebook an exchange he had with Mababes: “Sir, paano pag naging National Artist kayo?” “Nako puede ba, I don’t think of such things. Just do your work and do it well.” The post was accompanied by a picture of Mabesa, in his scarf and shorts, standing on the Guerrero stage in the half-light, checking his phone—an extraordinary man caught in an ordinary moment.
The Lion, the King, finally got his due—but this Lion will always be our Mababes.
