"Mali yung oras sa orasan natin dito, Adel," said Ricky Lee in his signature calm voice as we briefly paused our shoot in his home workshop. The usual wall-to-wall bookshelves are now under the glow of our colored lights, and a simple plastic stool and a bookcase stacked with his published works serve as the backdrop— almost a poetic contrast to the weight of his legacy.
The clock between the posters of his previous movies, Anak (2000) and May Nagmamahal Sa'yo (1998) caught his attention, and he noticed it was slightly off. "Huli ng limang minuto," he said. An almost imperceptible detail but perfect timing is essential for National Artist for Film and Broadcast Arts Ricky Lee.
After finishing the shoot in his workshop, we entered his home, still full with books. From the stairs to even the comfort room, every corner seemed to hold a story resting on the shelves. One might wonder if he had ever gotten the chance to read them all. Sadly, I forgot to ask him. As we prepared the music room as our next location, he noticed the clock again. "Pati dito ay hindi tama yung nasa orasan," he said with a giggle. "Last week pa nakalagay dito," he followed jokingly while stepping into his familiar comfort where we could see him not as a figure but as a person in his own space.
As we moved from one room to another, it became clear that Ricky Lee's world is shaped not just by the stories he writes but also by the things, such as moments that affect the now. Whether it's a clock running five minutes late or the books surrounding him, everything in his space feels like a piece of a bigger narrative.
And in this space, we sat down to talk about a theme that runs deep through all his works: LOVE. Not just love as a feeling, the way we romanticize it but love as something inextricably tied to the world it exists in.
"Well, unang una, hindi siya [love stories] nag-e-exist na hiwalay sa social conditions sa lipunan, sa pangkalahatang konteksto ng buhay nating lahat. Hindi nag-e-exist ang love stories as pure love stories lang," he explained like someone who has spent decades dissecting and reconstructing love through words.
He turned to his novels "Para Kay B" and "Kalahating Bahaghari" to explain: "Like Para Kay B, lahat ng kuwento ng limang babae do’n, lahat hinaharangan ng social conditions or situations. Or like Kalahating Bahaghari, for 50 years, buhay ng isang pamilya na may mga gays, and queer, and trans sa pamilya nila." He said as he explains that a love story is never just about romance."Pero ang problema nila ay hindi lang pagiging gay nila, kung ‘di political and other social conditions," he continued, emphasizing how love has always been deeply intertwined with the realities that shape it.
"Hindi ako naniniwala sa pure na romcom," he admitted, "naniniwala ako sa mga romcoms na I think successful at maganda kasi naka-situate siya sa isang social condition." It doesn’t have to be overtly political, he clarified, but it has to mean something beyond just two people falling in love, it has to reflect the world they live in.
Love, in Ricky Lee's world, is never isolated. It is always connected to something greater. That Love is never just about the lovers. It is about the world they exist in—the time, perception, and society they linger in. And as the clocks run slightly late in his home, it becomes a part of the story we long to tell for Metroscene Mag's February Issue.
Heart of The Story
"Parang ako, ako feeling ko hindi ako pwedeng magsulat kung walang emotion ng love, kasi emotional ‘yung pagsusulat sa akin," He said in a steady voice, like someone who has spent years writing about love. "At habang nagsusulat ako, parang may balon siyang sa loob ko na kailangan kong doon halukayin lahat ng mga gamit kong emosyon sa sinusulat ko. Eh, love ang isa sa pinakamatinding emosyon ng tao, kung hindi man pinaka, matindi na actually."
For Lee, writing is an act of deep intimacy. He speaks of his characters as if they are lovers, "Kailangang mahal na mahal ko lahat ng characters ko, kasi ‘pag nagsusulat ako yakap yakap ko yung characters ko na kumbaga parang lover nila ako," he says. "Kasama ko sila pagtulog, kasama paggising, kasama all day, kasama ko maski saan ako magpunta. Hindi kami naghihiwalay until matapos ko ‘yung sinusulat ko." And when the last page is written, the separation is almost unbearable.
"Like nung katatapos ko lang a couple of months ago ‘yung Kalahating Bahaghari, nagigising ako nang madaling araw, nakatingin ako sa dingding, parang suddenly nawalan ng purpose ‘yung buhay ko, parang suddenly may naputol kasi natapos ‘yung nobela," he confesses.
There's something deeply human about the way Ricky Lee tells stories. His written words don't just create a temporary page but rather they reach out and offer a place for those who have felt they don't belong. His stories have a way of embracing those who often feel unseen, the outsiders, the ones who love in ways the world struggles to understand.
“Hindi puwedeng walang passion sa paggawa ng art magiging arte-arte. Hindi ba, parang, off your head, it has to come from deep inside you. ‘Yung seed of passion mo dapat doon manggaling siya. So mahalaga ‘yung passion.”
For Lee, passion isn’t just an abstract concept; it’s the force that fuels creation. "‘yun ‘yung isang purpose ng sining, Halimbawa, kung ang isang tao ay umiibig, umiibig siya, yes matindi. Pero the moment na ‘yung taong ‘yon gumawa ng tula, mararanasan mo ‘yung tindi, ‘yung intensity ng kaniyang pagmamahal, Kasi, andon na sa tula ‘yon. Nasa gawa ng sining, otherwise hindi natin sobrang mararamdaman."
For National Artist Ricky Lee, love, passion, and creation are deeply intertwined. Whether set in the bustling streets of Quiapo, the historic corners of Ermita, and the shadow years of Martial Law, his stories stand as a testament to the power of storytelling. And at the heart of every story should capture the pulse of society, give voice to the unheard, and preserve the truths that shape our history.
“Sa akin, I feel na napakalaking privilege para sa akin, and blessing na rin na nakakapagsulat ako tungkol sa iba’t ibang klaseng pag-ibig, lalo na sa mundo ng mga marginalized,” he says.
From Elsa in Himala, whose faith and desperation reflect the struggles of wanting to belong, to the characters in Para Kay B, where Love is never simple nor conventional, and even Dale in Kalahating Bahaghari, who grapples with his truth in a world that refuses to make space for it. In his characters, there is proof that every kind of Love, no matter how quiet or unconventional, is worthy of being told, of being seen, of being felt. And at the heart of it all? He puts it simply: Love and passion bring stories to life.
For the Love of it all
Despite the towering stack of recognitions and a career that has helped shape the culture of Philippine literature and cinema, Ricky Lee is still, first and foremost, an artist. A national treasure, yes, but also a human being. And much like the clock that sits on his walls even Ricky Lee sometimes misses a beat. A moment of pause, a fleeting uncertainty. But just as the hands of time always find their rhythm again, so does he.
“‘Yung relasyon ko sa industriya ng pelikula, love-hate siya. All the way mula simula,” he reflects. “Pelikula ang pinaka-nagparamdam sa akin ng glory and exhilaration, pero pelikula rin ang nagparamdam sa akin ng sobrang sakit. And I go through that. Sa 50 years ko na ba sa industriya ng pelikula, mula nagsimula, hanggang ngayon, laging magkasabay o magkasunod ‘yon. May joy and then may pain.”
I leaned in as he spoke, his words offering a reminder that being an artist isn’t just about emotion or inspiration but rather it’s also about navigating the industry that shapes, challenges, and sometimes tests them. “And eventually, na-realize ko lang, gano’n din naman yata ang buhay at gano’n lahat ng bagay. Walang relationship, o walang trabaho na lahat saya or lahat lungkot. ‘Pag iisa lang na emosyon, I don’t think it will be worth it, and it’s like magiging masaya ang masaya kung walang lungkot. Pero while going through it, torment talaga,” he said.
To be an artist is to endure. But to be an artist in the Philippines? That’s an entirely different level of resilience. It’s a path that takes its toll—creatively, emotionally, and even physically. So, with years of longevity behind him, I had to ask: with everything that he is, from his words to his essence, bakit hindi pa siya nauubos? Is love, passion, and everything around him enough to fuel the fire?
It’s a heavy question. Yet, he answers without hesitation, that in the end, love is a choice. And so is creating. “But in the end, I think, eventually, it becomes a decision, a choice that you make, na ito ang mamahalin ko, at ito ang magtatagal. I think sinabi ko ‘yun sa Kalahating Bahaghari, na falling in love is also a decision to make this love last.”
There’s a quiet certainty in his voice, "Wag kang mag-alala," he reassures, leaning in as if letting me in on a secret. "Babalik ‘yun—may ups and downs, ebbs and flows. I have the benefit of hindsight. There have been so many occasions where I thought, ‘Ayoko na. Ang hirap. I feel drained.’ Kasi when you create, you give everything—soul, emotions, mind. And when it’s over, you feel emptied. Exhausted. Parang naubusan ka. And I think it should be like that."
There’s rawness and a brutal honesty in his words, admitting that art is not just about inspiration but rather also includes the gays where you lose sight of your love and passion to create as well. "‘Pag hindi ko inubos ‘yung nasa loob ko, parang hindi pa tapos. So hanggang mag-go to press ang nobela ko, labas ako nang labas—until I’m drained. And it will happen again, and again, and again. That’s part of the journey. You have to let yourself be emptied so that you can be filled with something new." He pauses, reflecting. There’s a wisdom in his cadence, much like the way he writes. "So I think it’s important that you feel really down and you feel na hindi ko na kayang magsulat at ayaw ko nang magsulat. I think it won’t work kung– ay gustong magsulat, ay gustong magsulat, ay gustong magsulat at ganon-ganon ‘yung emosyon mo. I think it’s important na– ay ayaw ko nang magsulat, and then gusto ko na ulit. So mas may, increase and mas intense na passion sa pagsusulat."
He leans back, the weight of decades in his voice, and says the most beautiful thing an artist could learn from Ricky Lee's genius. Like a clock needing recalibration to set it on the right time, Ricky Lee knows that creation is a cycle—of giving, of emptying, of finding one's way back to the stories that demand to be told.
"That’s why kung minsan sinasabi ko sa workshops ko na, pag nagsusulat ka para kang namamatay nang maraming beses, pero narereborn ka ulit. So it’s a matter of dying, and being reborn, and dying, and being reborn. I think that’s [what] writing or creating art is all about."
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Metroscene Mag February 2025 COVER: Heart of the Story Featuring
National Artist Ricky Lee
Photographed by Miles Wency (@mileswency)
Videographer and Video Editor: Genio Frondoza (@geniofrondoza)
BTS Shots by Avin Dela Cruz (@avindelacruz_)
Cover Story Written by Mark Elwyn Baccay (@markelwyn)
Coordinator: Adelbert Abrigonda (@adelbertabriginda)
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