Post-World War II Filipinos were for decades anguished by the forlorn carcass of the Metropolitan Theater. For decades, it remained a painful reminder of that terrible Battle for Manila, which raged for a month, killing 100,000 innocent, non-combatant civilians. Manila was bombed to smithereens, never again to recover its fabled luster. A war baby like me has no memory of how grand the Metropolitan Theater must have been; its pitiful remains were so frightfully grotesque. I had not learned to appreciate Art Deco, even if it had charming Filipino nuances.
The tiara-like dome with stylized minarets, the sensuous female figures in exotic drapes, an exterior with whimsical rope designs, friezes and curly cues, the clashing ethnic-like geometric designs, a rectangular-stained glass on the façade, mask-like chimeras and asparagus turrets—the total effect was bizarre, not at all alluring to a child.
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