And so it ends

The Good Life with Eli F.J. Tajanlangit

The ending, when it came, did not disappoint. One by one, the protagonists took turns proclaiming the fate of the principal character, a ritual that was akin to a tightening of the noose, building towards the final blow that would end with the bang of the gavel and a stern “so ordered…”

Finally, the afternoon soap/teleserye/reality TV show that was Chief Justice on Trial that had gripped the nation for the past few months, giving us first-rate entertainment that had at its peak matrons suspending their mahjongg sessions so they get the update as it happened.

Trust the Pinoy to turn even such a grave and historical process as the impeachment of the highest magistrate in the land into entertainment, to weave “distractions” into real life dramas, perhaps as our way of coping and survival mechanism. Only in the Philippines, as they say, can one find a people smiling while floodwaters are rising to rooftops and even smiling at cameras, taking souvenir shots in the middle of a storm. Scholars can analyze this from psychological, sociological and even economic angles but that’s just how it is, and I don’t think it is something that we should pull our hair over.

Because really, the just-concluded impeachment proceedings were a watershed of sorts, a debut in fact, marking our passage as a mature democracy. Look, we just removed the Chief Justice in a peaceful manner, and I don’t think anybody can cry unjust or unfair. People vented their feelings, the debate reached boiling point, but nobody had to shed blood, just tears, plenty of which were theatrical in nature, in fact.

But like a piece of good theatre, there were memorable performances and unforgettable scenes. Who can forget Congressman Rudy Fariñas’ “palusot” speech, the 24-minute performance that wrapped up 43 days of arguments and counter-arguments, sifting through lies and deception, and distilling everything into one coherent and persuasive presentation? Now, there are people calling for “Fariñas for Senator!” What 24 minutes on national TV, indeed, can bring.

Who can forget Ombudsman Conchita Carpio-Morales, elegant in demeanor and razor sharp in mental exchange? There was lead defense lawyer former justice Serafin Cuevas, smart and unflappable, until he had to face the AMLC facts, his trademark “yer enor” preface crisp and distinct.

There was Senator-Judge Miriam Defensor Santiago, loquacious and legal, plumbing the depths of laws to sustain her bias. Her last scene, where she begged God for a second lifetime to probe everybody, sounded straight from some dark comedy script.

Of course, everybody is still talking about presiding officer Juan Ponce Enrile, who at various times in his 88 years, had been a controversial figure: customs commissioner, martial law administrator, coup plotter, but steered the hearings on even keel it proceeded properly. What 43 days on national TV could do: many people say Enrile, in this last role, has redeemed himself before his countrymen.

As in any theatre piece worthy of a national and even international audience, the best role was that of the leading man, CJ Renato Corona, around whom the story revolved. It helped that he has a cinematic face, one that is so flexible, he could run the gamut of a thousand thoughts and feelings easily.

In his traffic-stopping, three-hour performance, Corona at turns was angry, grave, happy, sick, resigned, agitated, fighting, forceful, meek – running the range of a thousand emotions by the sheer twitch of his facial muscles or movement of his eyeballs, and the occasional flourish of his hand. Brilliant acting piece, indeed, that, sadly, in the end, showed all of us the very thing he had wanted to quash: that he wasn’t the man who can continue to play the role of chief justice of our land.*

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