THE BEATITUDES
By: Iris P. Concepcion

The vicinity has not been changed. Remnants of junk food packages still litter the ground. Straws were not picked. Musical scoring had gone Comedy Central. A little ballerina closed her ears to the blasting fusion of music that did not quite sync. It had gongs with April Boy Regino and Freddie Aguilar songs mixed like a confused Sinbad in his lost carpet. It was hilarious.

A couple was sweet. The guy was removing lice from his girlfriend's hair as this terrible coalition of songs blare like a stupid recording.

A guy in a wheelchair was dozing off as the songs polluted the air. That is how bad the mix was. There was a disco playlist though, rarely heard on radio. This proved the be the balm to the senses.

A guy who looked like George Burns was sitting in one corner so smugly creased.

The arena was filled; the audience better cheered and no one was perspiring as everyone awaited the performance.

So this is ballet when they plugged out the tutus off Lisa Macuja and Nonoy Froilan. I do not claim to be an expert in dances; I learned the moves only through folk dances and "bayles" prevalent in town gatherings.

I do claim one thing: I have seen the best of what Kirov and Bolshoi theaters can offer via Ms. Macuja and Ms. Froilan in the past.

I am blessed to have a stern aunt who knows her notes. She had been to NAMCYA competitions as a conductor (I do not know what this acronym stands for; it has something to do with the arts during Marcos time). She is into that: arts and its variations. She has a friend who invited us then to Macuja and Froilan's performance in Kalibo, Aklan. These well-trained dancers donned their best inside a basketball gym.

I was enthralled then. I could not believe the premiere ballerinas can grace a rusting setting whose people might laugh at the tight, leotard pants of the performers.

Hence, I can match the "Living Dolls" staging of ballet with that one afternoon of magical superlative in the Visayas a long, long time ago.

I do not want to lend a critique to a thing I am ignorant of. I do know the technicality of movements. I am sure of one thing though. Macuja then did not have wobbling feet: she was perfect. Never did I see her once depart from her pointed tutus. That is discipline.

These ballerinas, on the other hand, are no well-coordinated. They do have fabulous costumes though. There is only a sequence that I liked: the Dutch-clad women of four who used castinets like dome in their dance. They were much better choreographed.

I do not know who killed MET, the ballet dancers and our real talented musicians but you long for the days when they provided the yardstick for cultural excellence in this country and had us mapped in the world for our aesthetics.

This is education and I learned one thing: profitable ventures require only mediocre talents to break through stage. Who altered the paradigm shift ought to examine his/her cultural conscience right now.

This race, this country, this nation is certainly capable of doing better than that.

"Freedom is my new choice."