by NORMAN SISON, VERA FILES, 2015
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It was also the era of the giant Japanese
super robot cartoons on television, the first generation of what is called
“anime” today. And for Filipinos who were only children back then, all they
cared about were their super robot cartoon shows — and the most popular of them
was Voltes V.
Old Voltes V sticker |
Voltes V teks cards |
There was something else to it. Boazania was
also under dictatorial rule from a despotic emperor, who faced an uprising from
Boazanians who
were discriminated against and enslaved simply because they had no horns.
Then, one day in April 1979, just when
the series was down to its last four episodes, President Ferdinand Marcos
issued an order yanking Voltes V
and all other robot cartoons off the airwaves. A generation of children — the
so-called “martial law babies” — was left heartbroken and wondering how the Voltes V
story ended. And they were very angry.
There is a deeper meaning to the artwork
than simply venting the pent up anger of an 11-year-old boy whose favorite
television show was cancelled. It’s a history lesson from the young once to the
young ones.
Some Voltes V memorabilia in 1978 |
The official explanation for the ban was that parents complained about the cartoons’ “excessive violence” — and that was that.
The result was the opposite. Children who
otherwise would’ve paid no attention to Marcos, started taking notice of what
was happening around them.
Ninoy Aquino memorabilia after his assassination. Pinoy Kollektor |
When they came of age, particularly after
the 1983 assassination of opposition leader Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr., they joined their parents
in the fight against Marcos.
“I knew that there was much talk about
this martial law,” says artist Toym Imao, who was 11 years old when Voltes V
was banned. “It was only after the cancellation that I was awakened to the
realities of the regime.”
The anger has simmered down for many of
the children of the martial law era but they haven’t forgotten.
When the Voltes V series was shown as a complete movie
in 1999, two decades after its cancellation, the martial law babies flocked to
theaters — with their children in tow — to finally see the last four episodes.
Aptly, the remade movie was titled “Voltes V: The Liberation.”
Artist Toym Imao gives a talk on his towering
installation art piece.
Photo by Romsanne Ortiguero, InterAksyon.com.
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“My humble goal with my installation is
to encourage discussion and talk among those who view it, even if you’re not
from that era,” Imao says. Maybe the work will resonate to a mother
or a father on how Voltes V
figured within the martial law years. Then the storytelling begins.”
It’s easy for Voltes V
fans to recognize and understand what the parts of the sculpture mean to
symbolize, such as why Marcos is made to look like the devil, with M16 rifle
barrels for horns, and why there is a building that looks like Malacañang
Palace on his head.
Tomy Imao’s Last, Lost, Lust for Four Forgotten Episodes
(aka San Voltes V) Fiberglass, brass, galvanized iron .
108 x 86 x 48 inches,
2014
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The artwork has also something more
relevant to say to the present generation: how Filipinos choose their leaders
come elections, as if they have a penchant for committing suicide by politics. “My frustration does not stem from the
fact that another Marcos is gunning for the highest position of the land, but
from how a vast majority of our people—through their choice of
leaders—perpetuate nepotism and political dynasties,” Imao says.
“That the Marcoses are still in power, along with other
similar incarnations in our existing government, is a barometric reading on our
political maturity as a people.”
The Marcos dictatorship may have ended
almost 30 years ago, but the politics of impunity remain. So, the struggle
continues, with the ending nowhere in sight. Laments Imao: “We are still victims of patronage and
celebrity politics.”
Actually, Voltes V: The Liberation was a compilation of the last 5 episodes of the show.
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