Christopher de Leon and the film that started it all
Christopher de Leon rarely rewatches his past works. Well, he has no qualms about the classics—“they’re always good”—but he does have his fair share of films that, he jests, he would rather “burn” or “bury in the depths of the ocean.” (We can only hazard a guess.)
Needless to say, this one isn’t going anywhere: After 52 years, the screen veteran finally saw Lino Brocka’s “Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang” (1974) anew—in restored 4K glory, no less—to open the Philippine Film Industry Month this September.
“I had only caught glimpses of it on TV or on the internet,” he tells reporters after the screening at the Red Carpet cinemas in Shangri-La Plaza. “I’m just happy I got to see it again.”
It was a “very nostalgic” two hours—a “blast from the past”—seeing his 18-year-old self, sharing the screen with legends like Lolita Rodriguez, Mario O’Hara, and Eddie Garcia. Not too shabby for his first-ever film, which he found himself in partly by a stroke of serendipity.
Nine takes
While he came from a family of actors, his path wasn’t exactly a given. He was accompanying his sister Pinky—whom he used to drive to work and filmings—when Brocka himself spotted him and suggested he audition for “Tinimbang.” Many tried out, but only four made the cut.
He expected no more than a bit role, but somehow ended up playing the lead character, Junior—a privileged teen who, by befriending society’s outcasts, slowly opens his eyes to the hypocrisy that consumes his provincial hometown.
“I had to audition, take up acting workshops and voice lessons, and learn how to break down scripts,” says de Leon, who, around that time, was also doing the musical “Godspell” at Saint Paul College of Manila. “Lagari ako… That was where I got most of my acting knowledge then.”
His first scene? “It was with Lolita and Mario. Oh no, oh no… help.” It took him nine takes to get it right.
First award, first kiss
But despite his inexperience, the flashes of brilliance that would make de Leon one of the country’s most decorated actors were unmistakable. One could even already make out his would-be signature delivery—how he expresses mounting rage with a seething rumble through his teeth—in a scene where Junior defies his womanizing father.
It certainly didn’t hurt that he had industry greats for mentors in this on-the-job training of sorts. “I learned a lot from the way Lino and the other actors attacked the scenes,” he says. “After that, tuloy-tuloy na.”
Watching his performance, de Leon thought, “That was me? Good, ah!”—as if the performance didn’t earn him the Best Actor trophy at the 1975 FAMAS Awards.
So there he was, winning his first acting award for his first film, which also gave him—before he forgets—his first on-screen kiss. “Why not?” he said when told he would need to shoot one. He shared that moment with Laurice Guillen, whose quiet, enigmatic portrayal of Milagros, the town’s “putok sa buho,” wasn’t all that different from what she was like offscreen.
“She was very reserved,” de Leon recalls. You wouldn’t hear much from her when the cameras weren’t rolling, he adds, but once they did, she would be in character, right on the spot. She was “intense,” and that, apparently, sucked whatever air of nonchalance he had at first.
“I was intimidated,” he admits. “My nerves… I was shaking!”
Mercifully, “maganda naman lumabas.” Now, hearing the crowd in the theater hoot and holler—as Milagros locks the door and turns off the lights at the bowling alley where the kiss happens—de Leon could only laugh at the anticipation of it all.
Humanity behind the hypocrisy
Not that we’re letting that distract from the gravity of the film, though. More than five decades in, “Tinimbang’s” critique of class prejudice, gossip, and cruelty remains just as pertinent.
“I realized how important the film is… makabuluhan,” says de Leon, fondly known in showbiz circles as “Boyet” or “Bo.” “It talks about the hypocrisy of society. May scene dito na nagsisimba, pero kapag homily na, lalabas ang mga lalaki para magkuwentuhan. ‘Yong mga babae naman nagtsi-tsismisan.”
But behind the duplicity, he says, humanity can still be gleaned, as in the “love” between the leper Berto (O’Hara) and Kuala (Rodriguez), the woman deemed “crazy” by people unaware of her painful past. And that’s thanks—in large part—to O’Hara, who also wrote the screenplay.
“’Yong mga lines niya about humanity, love, equality… kung bakit pinagtatawanan [ang naiiba]… ang galing,” he says.
Junior is now a senior
In the story’s haunting climax, the collective genius comes fully into view. Brocka was known for his penchant for making actors shed a single tear from one eye on a specific beat. Rodriguez did just that during Kuala’s last moments—a startling flicker of lucidity—as she entrusted her newborn baby to Junior.
“I remember her expression, how she maintained character with glassy eyes,” de Leon says. “Then you really see her shed a tear.”
And as Junior, baby in arms, walks away from Kuala’s shack, the townspeople—who had come storming in blind fury—step aside before him, one after another, until a clear path emerges in the middle of the crowd.
“That final scene was like the parting of the sea. It was a director’s prerogative, his way of emphasizing a point,” de Leon says. “Maski tumigil ang tao sa paggalaw, the symbolism is there.”
Now, Junior is a “senior,” de Leon, 69, quips. But seeing once more the film that started it all for him, gratitude filled his heart. “Maraming salamat sa Diyos at ginawa Niya akong artista,” he says.
