There’s a kontrabida in all of us
As the old showbiz adage goes, “Walang bida kung walang kontrabida.”
For how could we weep for Mara without Clara slapping her all the way into the next episode? Would Via’s close brush with death have hit just as hard, if it weren’t for that maniacal laughter Selina summoned from the pits of hell as she watched the bus go up in flames? And boy, how we rooted for Dorina even harder when Lavinia splashed water on her face after dropping this immortal pop culture quote: “You’re nothing but a second-rate, trying-hard copycat!”
The kontrabida—at least in the context of local entertainment and melodrama—exists mainly to torment the bida, pushing them to their wits’ end until they’re forced to finally confront adversity head on, thereby propelling the story forward. But what if the growth the bida so badly needs can only happen if they become their own kontrabida?
And what if there were a school to teach just that?
The finer points of villainy
This is the premise of “Kontrabida Academy, the new comedy fantasy Netflix film directed by Chris Martinez, starring Barbie Forteza and Eugene Domingo. When a mysterious TV reels in Gigi (Forteza), a martyr worker trapped in a toxic restaurant environment, she finds herself at a school reminiscent of Hogwarts—but for budding screen villains.
There, she’s welcomed by Mauricia (Domingo), an esteemed kontrabida who introduces Gigi to the finer points of villainy, showing her that scheming is much an art as it is a science; that insults should land swift and hard, like vicious slaps; and that your choice of drink dictates which part of the bida’s body you splash it on.
Before she knows it, Gigi is armed with everything she needs to flip the script. “The story follows the character and her transformation. For me, it has taken on a more personal meaning, exploring how being a kontrabida can influence and change a person like Gigi, so she could improve her life,” Forteza says in a recent roundtable interview.
And there’s quite a bit of life imitating art in this concept, too. The actress recalls attending an online master class by the late Cherie Gil—“La Primera Contravida” herself—during the pandemic lockdowns. “Ang dami niyang naitulong,” she says. “’Don’t just say the lines—know your whys.’ That’s something I learned from her.”
Forteza has played a villain only once before in her 17-year career—and that role wasn’t nearly as fully fleshed out as this one. But now that she has found herself on the other side of the fence, she can finally put to use that lesson she learned from Gil.
“It takes a lot of courage to step into a villain’s shoes, so I admire those who do. And having done that myself now, I can say the preparation and emotional demands are very different,” she says. “It’s not only about being evil. You still have to show the depth and the background that explain why the character is the way she is.”
Tired of being the underdogs
This phenomenon of giving villains more intricate and compelling backstories has become increasingly more common in contemporary storytelling, even in local television. Perhaps they’re not as evil as they’re made out to be. And this, in turn, has seemingly changed the way audiences view traditional protagonists, too. Perhaps they’re not as good as they’re often portrayed to be.
And maybe, the bida can be the kontrabida just the same.
“I think we’re more open to rooting for a protagonist like that because we’re more socially aware now,” Forteza says. “They exude courage and are frank and straightforward in addressing issues, whether they be personal or about family.”
Meanwhile, Domingo surmises that people have grown tired of always being the underdogs. “We have always liked the underdog—’yong inaapi tapos unti-unting tatapang at maghihiganti. But now, things seem to have evolved,” she notes. “We also find ourselves rooting for the kontrabida or someone more exciting than the usual bida profile.”
“Exciting” is indeed the operative word. The bida may win the people’s sympathy, end up charming Prince Charming, or secure the inheritance. But it’s the kontrabida who gets to have all the fun (at least until the end)—what with the dramatic entrances, the glamorous outfits, and the scathing one-liners.
Domingo playfully puts that into practice at one point during this interview. Mid-sentence, Forteza is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of snoring. Someone in the room has fallen asleep. “Hindi mo naman sinabi na bedroom mo pala ‘to,” Domingo quips, drawing laughter.
“If you’re an actress and serious about this [craft], try playing a kontrabida, because it’s really fun,” adds Domingo, who’s no stranger to playing such roles. There’s the iconic “Kimmy Dora” film franchise, for one, where she famously played twin sisters—Dora, the good, and Kimmy, the misunderstood—often sharing the screen in the same scene.
And it’s in the riotously campy take on such Filipino TV tropes that “Kontrabida Academy” revels in. (This is a Chris Martinez film, after all.) And yes, the two lead stars ham it up to the hilt. The film pokes fun at tired old plot devices and soap clichés for laughs, all while celebrating the larger-than-life nature of the kontrabida. As such, it also doubles as a tribute to the country’s most beloved kontrabidas.
A loving tribute
In fact, at the “Kontrabida Ball” that followed the interview at The Manila Peninsula lobby, the spotlight shone on screen legends—all of them part of the cast—who have long sown fear and terrorized the Sharon Cunetas, Judy Ann Santoses, and Nora Aunors of showbiz: Celia Rodriguez, Odette Khan, Rez Cortez, Jean Garcia, Michael de Mesa, Gladys Reyes, Mylene Dizon, and Pinky Amador.
“This film highlights our icons, the many great kontrabidas we have. Some are no longer with us, but we don’t forget their contributions and their unforgettable scenes,” Domingo says.
But more than the laughs or the deliciously wicked cameos, the film unwittingly begs the questions: Does everyone have a kontrabida in them? And is there a right time and place to let it loose?
Sometimes, ironically, it’s the actors who play good characters who have diva tendencies in real life, Forteza notes—but no names though! And as she searched for an answer, Domingo wonders out loud: Do nuns—or people who have heeded a more peaceful calling, for that matter—have it in them, too?
“Maybe some people just have longer patience… but I think it’s there, kahit ga-tuldok lang,” Domingo says. “And once it’s triggered, ayun na.”
“I believe so—because that’s what makes us human,” Forteza adds.
Besides, being a kontrabida isn’t necessarily about committing evil deeds or hatching schemes. Sometimes, people get unfairly branded as one, merely for asserting their rights or setting healthy boundaries. And if you look at it that way, being a kontrabida could very well be just another way of saying you’re no pushover.
“Another thing we want to say is about character… [The habits] we have grown used to, the things we let slide and keep allowing—it’s time to stop and put an end to them,” Domingo says.
