THE subtitle of the comic book declares its intent clearly enough. It’s a satire, yes—a parody of the overlong titles of Pinoy action films, their slapstick counterparts and the massacre cinema of Carlo J. Caparas. It’s also an homage to the komiks that gave us local heroes like Captain Barbell, Darna and also Caparas’s Panday. For those more intellectually inclined it’s possibly also an indictment of a culture that has nothing left to do but to eat itself, to swallow the name of someone as artistically bereft as the aforementioned Caparas as a National Artist expecting the majority to be too busy watching Wowowee to care. But then again, it could just the product of an overeager imagination and of an awesome boredom besetting its creator, Louie Cordero, passing the time in between doing his more serious work as one of the country’s most revered young artists.

Whatever it is, it’s nonetheless a hit, one that’s attracted a cult following.

First published in 2003 by Abang Guard Productions, Nardong Tae is now on its fourth issue. Apart from garnering such citations as Best Indie Comic Book at the 2nd Philippine Comic Book, Anime and Gaming Convention, this creature has also spawned a limited edition toy series produced by Fresh Manila, which was launched at the chic environs of the Embassy club in Taguig. It quickly sold out.

So what is it all about?

The comic’s protagonist Bornek (just as numerous superheroes pre-powers before him like Narda, Paul Hewson and Iosif Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili) was ordinary until something otherworldly intervened and made him extraordinary. In this case it’s alien feces. Turned him into a humanoid turd, he somehow manages to take up criminology ostensibly to prepare him for a life of fighting crime. Before the first book ends, though, he also destroys the university where he goes to study with “the explosive power of his fart” and is thus “declared ‘Public Enemy No.1”—the plot at this point becoming a deliciously perverse variation of Pete Lacaba’s “The Clash of ’69.”

By book four, the entire world is literally reduced to shit. (But not before we catch a glimpse of the President himself who is none other than well-loved and respected independent filmmaker Rodolfo Sabayton Jr. who’s also won the film rights to adapt the comic.)

Cordero himself says that doing comics has always been something he’s wanted to do. In an interview with Pedicab’s Diego Mapa he says his enthusiasm for the medium was fueled at an early age reading local titles such as Zuma, Shockers, Ninja and artists like Vincent de Khua and Nonoy Marcelo. He also acknowledges the influence of the underground “comix” scene in San Francisco, in particular the work of pioneers like Robert Williams, Robert Crumb, Basil Wolverton, as well newer ones by Gary Panther, Daniel Clowes, Mike Diana, Charles Burns, Peter Bagge and Johnny Ryan.

“Nuong college pa ako, puro pinta at teorya tungkol sa art, kaya nakalimutan ko na talaga ang comics,” Cordero tells Mapa. “Tapos lumipat ako sa Cubao, dating comics factory yung studio ko, sobra akong naimpluwensiyahan sa lugar, wala na akong pambili ng pintura kaya nag-try ako na mag-comics muna.”

“Wala akong favorite na medium. Kung anong bagay doon sa work, yun ang gagamitin ko,” he says. “Kung kailangan sa papel, usually kung anong puwede sa papel, [pen and paper, collage,] at kung anu-ano pa. Kung sa canvas, encaustic wax, oil or acrylic. Kung anong meron sa studio at natitira, yun ang gagamitin ko.”

After completing the first issue he made 50 photocopies and just spread it around in areas like Azcarraga—oops, Recto in our turd-filled time. According to him, “lumaki na after that, yung iba pina-xerox ulit, free for all, tapos nakakuha ako ng publisher…”

As an artist, Cordero has won many accolades such as the 13 Artists Award from the Cultural Center of the Philippines. He has also exhibited his work abroad in countries such as Malaysia, Singapore, London and the United States. His work has been featured in foreign publications such as Giant Robot, among others. More popularly he created the sleeve art for Radioactive Sago Project’s widely successful album, Tanginamo Andaming Nagugutom Sa Pilipinas… Fashionista Ka Pa Rin.

“Mas gusto ko sa mainstream, mas masarap mambasag ng idea dito dahil mas marami kang audience, mas engaging yung palitan ng idea, dog-eat-dog, labu-labo, walang mahirap, walang mayaman, lahat pantay- pantay,” he says.

With Nardong Tae, he’s certainly succeeded. Not only does he transcend mere ‘xeroxing’ the American archetype of a superhero, remolding it into one that’s recognizable to Filipinos. Whether that’s reminiscent of the befuddled mug of Gibo Teodoro during the Typhoon Ondoy crisis, Willie Revillame’s plastic bonhomie on our TV screens or Caparas pathetically offering as proof his drawings to prove he really, really deserves to be a National Artist, that’s up for the reader to decide. After all, as Cordero points out, crap is universal—even in America. They’re just probably better at flushing it before it reeks like here in the third world. (Maybe not, they just close lids quite fast.)

Over here, it seems we just haven’t acquired the habit of flushing out what stinks.

The question really is how long do we suffer the stench? Six years? Another 20? Or do we just hold our breaths until we’re dead?

by Erwin T. Romulo
* A slightly different version of this article was first published in the Philippines Free Press (Nov. 2, 2009)