The unabating apathy between the rich and the poor remains a virulent bane in Philippine society, constantly playing havoc with its people. With little to no progress in abridging the widening and commodious divergence, the continuous political, social, and economic turmoil reinforces the wealthy more than the needy. The bountiful resources of the land serve as exclusive playgrounds of the affluent while the indigents are admonished to hang fire for the crumbs ‘donated’ by the former. Such is the quagmire of societal upheaval that it has never been rampant and dicey than it already was decades ago.
Littered mounds of interminable garbage between filthy waters and decrepit shanties lining up the Manila horizon befitted the opening statement of Patrick Alcedo’s documentary feature film, “A Will to Dream”. Juxtaposed against the skyline of high rise buildings perched atop the impoverished community, the searing reality of extreme poverty implicitly triggered the viewer’s empathy. The sentience of every Filipino immigrant across the globe are once again summoned to re-examine the polarity and disproportionate subsistence of their fellow Filipinos.
As the writer, director, and producer of the film, Alcedo highlighted the Quezon City Performing Arts, then a community dance school for marginalized children co-founded by the late Tony Fabella, Eddie Elejar, and Luther Perez. It was the trio’s common dream of teaching ballet dance to those who cannot access expensive classes.
The film pivoted on the artistry and tenacity of Perez who considered himself a ‘homegrown’ ballet dancer. He was the pioneering choreographer who continued to be the artistic director of said school. With the support of the city government, a public space was provided where Perez taught ballet to aspiring children. At first glance, he personified the seemingly forsaken strata of society, who, with good grace, melded himself with the children. Willingly, he allocated his lived experience that was more attuned to the plight of the underprivileged.
During the pinnacle of successful dance stints that brought Perez to cities across the globe, he obtained the coveted American green card that promised a comfortable lifestyle in North America. Implausible to many, Perez chose to stay in Manila. He continued teaching ballet to his poor students, eventually giving up his American status.
Beaming with content, Perez said in the film that, “…dance can make a difference in a kid’s life, to someone who is poor…because dance teaches discipline and focus…This is to get them off the streets. Give them something constructive, empower them”…
Alcedo’s raw exposition of impecunious children learning the most technical and elite dance discipline provided a glaring antithesis in his film. Ballet is known for its historical links with European aristocracy; thus it is perceived as an exclusive art form for the affluent. As these children perfected their leaps and pirouettes, the concept of poverty seemed to disappear from their being, at least momentarily.
Ballet and opulence go hand in hand in the purview of a developing country. As a university student volunteer then at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP), it became apparent that well-heeled luminaries have always been the privileged few who can afford priced seats in “Nutcracker” and “Swan Lake”. It was and continues to be obliquely ascribed that being couth can easily be ‘bought’ with power and wherewithal.
In contrast, Fabella quipped in the film that “What they(children) have lost is the will to dream…dance can make them dream…that even if they’re poor, they can go to the destination they want to reach…they still might be poor afterwards, but their persons will have changed.”
The backdrop of poverty-stricken households maintained the overarching theme throughout the film. Amid the struggles, accessing the world of ballet provided a great solace for the children. With walking distance to the studio, every participant underwent rigorous dance training and strict implementation of self-discipline under Perez. Each child was given an allowance that seemed paltry to sustain one’s needs but decent enough to nurture a dream.
In 2018, their dance studio was unabashedly demolished by the city, forcing them to relocate to a temporary facility farther from their homes. This compounded the hurdle to families who cannot afford to pay forty pesos for a tricycle ride to the new studio. While others walked, some had to scrape by just to bring their children to their classes.
There was a sense of reassurance in the film after watching the children’s dances on stage. This moment certainly brought dignity to the children as the audience complemented in awe. With all of his dance training, life lessons, and self-sacrifice at stake, Perez’s valuable contributions were effectively passed on to his students. The genteel and self-effacing avowal coming from Dax, Jon-jon, Justin, Princess, and Raprap, were all feel-good sentiments, confirming that …“in dance, I can pour all of my emotions, all the feelings I want to share with people…”
That being said, the future of the dance company stays impermanent. Much like the poverty that these children did not choose to have, their modest wish to dance is lamentably dependent upon the political climate, will, and power of those in position. For now, these prodigies could only cling to a bleak scintilla of hope; that when their time comes, they too, can preserve the legacy and mentor the next generation.
In weaving the disturbing theme of poverty, Alcedo’s film woefully mirrored the endemic societal inequality that has deeply permeated the marrow of every Filipino mindset. As jarring as it was, the film transported every Filipino viewer to the familiar landmark of pauperdom in a country they once left behind. The trepidation and filth drowning the environs symbolized the reeking hotchpotch of depravity that goes beyond the scope of inhumanity. Despite the harrowing sight, the children guarded their own sense of optimism, carrying a strong will to pursue their dreams through the mastery of dance. ####