Is 13 a Lucky Number? Re-examining “Trese”

By Junelie Anthony Velonta
Ambassador, HAPI Youth | HAPI Scholar

The Philippines has no mythology. After all, what were considered gods and supernatural beings in other cultures have died out, killed by the spread of Christianity throughout the world. Their old pagan beliefs, with their many gods and many stories, became myths–old, obsolete lore. On the other hand, ask anyone in the Philippines about the aswang, tiyanak, kapre, and manananggal, and they would have a “real-life” story to tell. 

No, the Philippines has no mythology. Filipinos just have magical lives. Sometimes, that magic is terrifying, especially at night. In this world, where the urban meets the alive yet mystical, Alexandra Trese (Liza Soberano/Shay Mitchell/Ryoko Shiraishi) aims to protect the humans thriving in seemingly night-time-only Manila. Based on the acclaimed work of Kajo Baldisimo and Budjette Tan, Trese comes prepared for conflict.

The Philippines has no mythology. Filipinos just have magical lives.

Enter the Dark Side

Manila had always been dark and gloomy. Pollution, corrupt politicians, overpopulation, almost everything that darkens and muddies the name and state of a place is present in the metropolitan capital. It is this sense of filth and alienation that the animated series captures so well. The first few shots may be of the city skyline and the developed roads and railway station, but it quickly turns to the “squatter’s areas,” where violence involving guts, gore, and soul often is ignored. 

As such, it is no surprise that Trese tries to become a social commentary. Gone are the days when aswang and manananggal were solitary terrors, terrifying far-flung villages at night. In the modern world, they’ve adapted. Aswang, like many of the mystical creatures, have organized themselves into tribes. And when a tribe needs human flesh to sustain itself, there’s no other path to take but organized crime. Where organized crime is, corrupt politicians follow. This time, they don’t just use money to win elections, they also use magic.

Trese tries to be real. As such, the gore and viscera are coupled with shots of familiar-looking apartment complexes, trains that work only on occasion, and marketplaces with human body parts instead of the usual butchered livestock. In some ways, Trese succeeds in doing this. The show’s version of Manila is familiar even though it is alienating. The places could exist in real life even though they do not, and they definitely are not out of place in Manila which is constantly changing yet chained, spellbound even, to the past. 

There is Light in the Darkness

While the world of Trese is indeed dark and brooding, and it is praiseworthy for its almost accurate yet always alienating Manila, it can’t be as good as it is without its cast. For this section, due and deserved focus will be given to the Filipino cast. The other dubs will be discussed later.

There are a few characters who often outshine Liza’s Alexandra Trese. While it is no fault of Liza per se, it is a testament to the talent of the voice cast who stand alongside her. 

Most prominent in every episode are Basilio and Crispin, collectively known as the Twins or ang Kambal. Played by Simon de la Cruz, they bring life and fun to an otherwise emotionally gray setting and story that often takes itself too seriously. In a way, they are stand-ins for the Filipinos. Even in tense situations, they joke around and find ways to laugh at something, often to the annoyance of their elders. In a way, the Twins somehow become someone you know in real life.

And speaking of elders (read: gurang), Hank. He is old. Being from the same generation as Alexandra’s father, he comes from a time when partying meant bright-colored formal wear and dancing to beats that say “you can dance, you can jive” and that you’re “having the time of your life.” Hank, as played by Christopher Carlo Caling, is the Tito everyone knows, with his gold rings, necklaces, and watches. This makes him all too familiar, sans the requisite pocket money that most Tito give to their nieces and nephews. Well, only Alex could ask for it.

Many other minor characters shine well throughout the short runtime of the series. While they are quite few and their lines even fewer, they add the necessary texture to the show for the audience to grab hold onto.

Not really Filipino

Despite all the right things that the show has done, it also did many things wrong. First off, who makes a line when buying bread? As far as most Filipinos are concerned, the front of the bakery is a free-for-all. First come, first served.

Jest aside, it is evident that the series is made by foreigners who see the Philippines, and by extension the source material, through a western lens. The show often depicts things “as it is” without giving context why Filipino society is that way. For Filipinos, this might not be confusing. However, when viewed by people unfamiliar with Filipino culture, it may come off as strange, and not in a quirky way. 

Perhaps this is made bare by the script. The Filipino voice cast tries, they really do, but most of their dialogue is awkward or outright droning. No matter the talent, anyone would have had a hard time bringing many of the translated lines to life.

This, sadly, extends to Liza’s portrayal of Alexandra. While there has been enough online discussion on what Liza did wrong, not a lot of them consider the script and direction given to the character. Alexandra’s Filipino voice lines are choppy, with awkward breaks in between phrases or syllables, or outright waxing poetic in a terrible rhythm, using old words that nobody uses in conversation. 

Alexandra’s Filipino voice lines are choppy, with awkward breaks in between phrases or syllables

 All these culminate in the final episode, where it all became a mess. The main villain’s speech, which occupied more than half of the episode, was full of awkward language and lore-dumping that it became a headache to follow. It was more tolerable in the English dub, as the speech was voiced by Steve Blum, who was the talent behind such renowned characters as Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop and Amon from Avatar the Legend of Korra. 

But this lack of touch with Filipinos also extends to the English dub. While named characters who are voiced by renowned Filipino-Americans in Hollywood delivered good enough performances, some of the characters are obviously trying hard to “sound Filipino” but are failing miserably.

It does not just stop there. From the very first episode, it had been said repeatedly that magic “in the land” has gone. Yet, mythical creatures and deities are dabbling in politics, engaging in inter-tribal turf wars, and outright launching a zombie invasion recorded on national TV. Human victims of these aswang crime groups also have no hesitation in believing that they were being feasted on and onlookers witness the sacrificial site of a white lady. How is the magic “gone?”

Perhaps the most criminal was the use of the various Filipino deities. Talagbusao and Ibu are from Mindanaoan belief, Talagbusao being from the Bukidnon and Ibu sourced from the Manobo. Talagbusao is treated like a run-of-the-mill “god of war” and Ibu is pushed into the role borrowed from Charon, ferryman of the dead in Greek myth. The subtlety and uniqueness of both deities were thrown out the window. 

Isn’t Alexandra Trese a Tagalog and she operates in an area historically occupied by Tagalogs? Don’t the Tagalogs have their own gods and goddesses? Why would the deities from the south migrate North? Why was Talagbusao’s motto in Latin? 

Though the showrunners may have not intended it, Trese begs this question: Are the gods only alive in Manila?

Paagi

Despite its many flaws both internally and narratively, Trese is the gateway, the path, of Filipino recognition in the world. For once, the Filipino people would not be known solely for cheap exported labor. Trese is a first step. Though in many cultures, thirteen is a number bringing bad fortune, for Filipinos, it might just be our lucky draw.