PDI Feature: 2019 theater calendar--so far

My last piece for the year is a straight-up news piece of sorts. There's a calendar that accompanies this piece, accessible through the website but more visually appealing, I think, in the print version. The website version of this article here.

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For 2019, 25 productions--so far

The cast of "Silent Sky," March 2018.

Twenty-five productions, including 15 musicals, seven reruns and seven brand-new Filipino pieces, have already been announced for 2019.

Two of the musicals, both Tony Award winners, will come from Atlantis Theatrical Entertainment Group (Ateg): "Beautiful: The Carole King Musical" at the Meralco Theater in June; and a 40th-anniversary staging of Stephen Sondheim's "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" at The Theatre at Solaire in October, to be headlined by Lea Salonga and Jett Pangan. Ateg's 20th anniversary season, as previously announced, will open in March with Tony Kushner's "Angels in America: Millennium Approaches."

Two other Sondheim musicals have also announced auditions: Philippine Opera Company's "Passion," about the toxic, obsessive romance between a soldier and an ailing woman in 19th-century Italy; and Upstart Productions' "Company," a concept musical revolving around a single man--or in the case of its currently running revival in London's West End, woman--with commitment issues. Both musicals were last mounted professionally in Manila in the second half of the '90s by Repertory Philippines (Rep).

Rep will officially open the year in theater on Feb. 1 with a rerun of "Silent Sky," which was recently named by Inquirer Theater as one of the 10 best productions of 2018.

New staging

That same month, eight other productions are currently slated to open, including a new staging of Rep's "Miong," the 1997 English-language musical on the life and times of Emilio Aguinaldo; "Charot," an interactive comedy from Philippine Educational Theater Association (Peta) that aims to "present Philippine current events for the freak show that it is"; and at The Theatre at Solaire, the launch of the 2019 world tour of Andrew Lloyd Webber's "The Phantom of the Opera," seven years after its Manila premiere at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP).

Two original pieces will debut in February: from UP Playwrights' Theatre (UPPT), Rody Vera's "Nana Rosa," a dramatization of the life of Rosa Henson, the first Filipino woman to publicly share her story as a comfort woman during World War II; and from Tanghalang Pilipino (TP), Guelan Luarca's Filipino-language adaptation of Shakespeare's "Coriolanus."

In March, Luarca, who is the new artistic director of Tanghalang Ateneo, will premiere another piece under his university company--"AKO: Alpha Kappa Omega," an adaptation of the classic Mike de Leon film "Batch '81." Also at the Ateneo that month: Blue Repertory's new mounting of the rock musical "Spring Awakening," which it first did back in 2013.

Jukebox musicals

The year's first quarter will also see three returning Filipino jukebox musicals: Full House Theater Company's "Ang Huling El Bimbo," 9 Works Theatrical and Globe Live's "Eto Na! Musikal nAPO!" and Spotlight Artists Centre's "Dirty Old Musical," first seen in 2016.

Following its hit production of "Lungs," 9 Works' sister company The Sandbox Collective will return to the stage with another Duncan Macmillan play--the one-woman show "Every Brilliant Thing" (cowritten with Jonny Donahoe).

Meanwhile, Rep will have two plays by non-Filipino authors as part of its lineup of new productions.

The first, in March, will be Eric Chappell's "Father's Day," about a troubled family reunion that takes place on that eponymous day, and which will be directed by Rep cofounder Baby Barredo.

The second, in May, will be Ronald Harwood's "The Dresser," starring Teroy Guzman as an actor performing in Shakespeare's "King Lear" and Audie Gemora as his constant, titular companion.

'Kundiman Party'

At the end of May, another Inquirer Theater pick for the best of 2018--UPPT's "The Kundiman Party"--will also return, this time as a coproduction with Peta.

Two more reruns are scheduled in August: TP's historical musicals "Mabining Mandirigma" (on Apolinario Mabini) and "Aurelio Sedisyoso" (on playwright Aurelio Tolentino). Both by the same creative team--librettist Nicanor Tiongson, composer Joed Balsamo and director Chris Millado--they are scheduled to run in repertory for three weekends.

TP will end the year with two original pieces: "Katsuri," Bibeth Orteza's Hiligaynon adaptation of John Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men" in October; and "Lam-ang," a musical adaptation of the Ilocano epic poem "Biag ni Lam-ang" in December.

Rep, on the other hand, will present "The Quest for the Adarna," Luna Griño-Inocian's English-language adaptation of "Ibong Adarna," with original music by Rony Fortich, for its Children's Theater. 

PDI Feature: Bobby Garcia and 20 years of Atlantis

So this was my first time doing a live interview. Like talking and eating and recording and stuff. It was fun. The website version of this interview here.

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Bobby Garcia and a sold-out 20 years: 'Atlantis' success is the voice of theatergoers'

At Chef Jessie, Rockwell, with Garcia, Atlantis VP for Threatrical Productions Jorelle Balitbit and Inquirer-Lifestyle editor Thelma Sioson San Juan.

The morning before "Waitress" ran the first of its last five performances, Bobby Garcia posted a Facebook screenshot that showed a sold-out final weekend for the musical. Atlantis Theatrical Entertainment Group had scored another hit.

"The misconception is that we've always had an easy time," Garcia says. "I still remember being able to physically count how many people were in the audience each night for 'Hedwig and the Angry Inch [in 2001]."

"Hedwig," a one-act fictional rock concert starring its titular genderqueer artist, was only the fourth production under the Atlantis brand--then known as Atlantis Theatricals--with whom Garcia has become identified in the relatively small circle of Philippine theater.

"We've had our struggles," he says, "but we're lucky that if we struggled with one show, somehow the next one always compensated for it."

It was 1999 when Atlantis, partnering with New Voice Company and Music Museum, had its first hit with its first production: the local premiere of Jonathan Larson's Pulitzer Prize-winning "Rent."

"My whole life, I'm abroad a lot," says Garcia, who earned a Master of Fine Arts in Directing for Theater from the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, after finishing undergraduate studies at Fordham University in New York.

"I put up Atlantis specifically for 'Rent,' thinking it would just be a one-shot thing. But there was such a demand for it that I thought, 'Maybe I should continue doing [theater in the Philippines].'"

44 shows

Since "Rent," Garcia and his company have done 44 other shows, including the Asian premiere of "Next to Normal" (2011) and the international premieres of "In the Heights" (2011), "The Bridges of Madison County" (2015) and "Fun Home" (2016).

The same year as "Bridges," Garcia toured around Southeast Asia his completely retooled version of the Bee Gees musical "Saturday Night Fever."

"It's the closest I've gotten to doing an original musical. Patrick Bywalski of the Robert Stigwood Organization, who licensed the show to us, gave me full permission to make the show my own. So [musical director] Ceejay Javier and I spent six months rewriting and rescoring the whole thing. Our version was nothing like the original.

"We're lucky to have built excellent relationships with the licensors and producers in New York and London. Oftentimes, we get to do shows from the current crop on Broadway and the West End."

Heart

That, Garcia emphasizes, doesn't mean selecting only shows that the Tony or Olivier awards have recognized. "We don't set out to stage stuff that has won awards. We choose materials that connect to us--and they happen to be award-winning.

"I am personally drawn to stories about inclusion, identity, diversity, examining the complexities of the human heart, and how, and with whom, we build communities and tribes. All our shows deal with similar issues, whether it's as kiddie as 'Shrek The Musical' (2014) or something like 'Fun Home.'"

And Filipino artists, Garcia believes, tell stories with their hearts right there for everyone to see.

"I told the cast of 'Waitress' that we can never compete with foreign productions as far as budgets and razzmatazz are concerned. But they can never compete with the Pinoy artist when it comes to heart.

"I wish I had a formula for a hit," Garcia says. "But I honestly never know whether a show will work or not. We don't have demographics, research or survey groups here. What we do is tell the story as clearly as possible, so the audience can latch themselves to the characters' journeys. I'd be the last person to say that 'Waitress,' which is so Midwestern America, would be a hit.

"Audiences are smart. And over the years, Pinoy audiences have become quite sophisticated with their tastes and with how they respond to shows. They have become more discriminating, which is good."

The success of Atlantis, Garcia says, is the voice of the theatergoing public.

"That's where we've completely relied on for our income. We never had government grants or sponsorships from nongovernmental organizations. Now, 80 percent of our tickets are [sold] through Ticketworld."

In three months, Garcia returns to what he considers the finest written play of his generation: Tony Kushner's two-part magnum opus "Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes." The first part, "Millennium Approaches," opens Atlantis' 20th year in March.

"I was 25 when I first directed 'Angels' [for New Voice Company in 1995], and I was too young to really understand its complexities. I think it made people look at me a certain way, like, 'Oh my gosh, he's cutting-edge and pushing boundaries,' and in no way was that what I was trying to do and still don't.

"We did both parts in '95, and I realized you rob yourself of how good the first part can be because you're just focused on getting through the entire epic, especially during [technical week]. Now I want to do it properly. We don't have the time or money to spend weeks in tech, so I'll do part one first, then come to part two [titled 'Perestroika'] the following year.

"['Angels'] deals with life and death, heaven and hell, and when you're 25, you're so far from death. I'll be 50 next year and both my parents have passed away. When you're younger, there's always someone who's supposed to go ahead. With those people gone, there's no more ceiling there. You're next in line. So you deal with mortality in a very vivid way. That's the crux of 'Angels': What it means to live. What it means to die."

The Best of Manila Theater 2018

So Gibbs left. Gibbs Cadiz, our former theater editor and longtime pillar of Manila theater. Gibbs, who sees everything, as I used to jest (though it was never a jest; he did see everything, or almost everything). Ergo, we had to continue the great work, as Tony Kushner put it in "Angels in America." So we retained his signature title, but used my method instead. It's shorter this way. It's also less complicated. What we did was submit individual lists, which I narrowed down based on "votes" (it's really not that complicated), then split the actual writing job (who writes which citation). So the byline--for the first time in the history of the section--is composed of all the reviewers. I'm pretty proud of this final output--the website version here. 

SEE ALSO:
1. My Best of Manila Theater 2017
2. My Best of Manila Theater 2016
3. My Best of Manila Theater 2015
4. My Best of Manila Theater 2014
5. My Best of Manila Theater 2013
6. Compilation of links to my theater reviews

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Bravo! Best of Theater 2018

"The Kundiman Party."

A boomer, a Gen X and two millennials took stock of the past 12 months in Manila theater. The result is this first collective appraisal by our Theater reviewers since Lifestyle began its Theater section six years ago, under Theater editor Gibbs Cadiz.

Two realizations: First, it's been an extraordinary year for the original Filipino musical, three of which made our roster of outstanding productions.

Second, stories about women and powerhouse female performances clearly dominated the stages this year.

This roundup presents our choices alphabetically.

Best Productions of 2018

"Eto Na! Musikal nAPO!"

1. "Dekada '70" (Black Box Productions). All the strands in Pat Valera's adaptation of the same-titled Lualhati Bautista novel--the political and the personal, the social activism and the feminism, the violence on the streets and the small, affectionate family interactions--came together into a powerful, contextualized whole, with stirring music that was alternately militant and poignant. --ARTURO HILADO

2. "Desaparesidos" (Almonte, Bustamante and Jamora/Ateneo Areté). This third version of Guelan Luarca's adaptation of the eponymous novel by (again) Bautista--which follows two New People's Army activists during and after the Marcos years--was fiery, stunning theater, its evocations of the imagined past collectively becoming another galvanizing battle cry to "never forget." --VINCEN GREGORY YU

3. "A Doll's House, Part 2" (Red Turnip Theater). Neither pro- nor anti-feminist, this supposed sequel to Henrik Ibsen's classic pushed its audience into gray landscapes to rethink their longstanding views and feelings on complex issues. As directed by Cris Villonco, it showed heart and passion behind every line and movement, without sacrificing the underlying intellectual arsenal. --CORA LLAMAS

4. "Eto Na! Musikal nAPO!" (9 Works Theatrical/Globe Live). Reimagining the Apo Hiking Society discography, it first invited viewers to relive a more innocent age with its upper-middle class college setting during the martial law years. But its second act became a dark coming of age for its characters, as the realities of a society in turmoil impinged on their lives, each confrontation becoming a painful learning experience. --CL

5. "Himala: Isang Musikal" (The Sandbox Collective). This 15th-anniversary production of Ricky Lee and Vincent de Jesus' adaptation of the Ishmael Bernal classic (with Nora Aunor in arguably her most famous role as the purported visionary Elsa) was elevated foremost by its spare, transformative staging. From start to finish, a transporting, theatrical triumph. --VGY

6. "The Kundiman Party" (UP Playwrights' Theatre). Floy Quintos' newest play--and hopefully not his last--portrayed the world of the politically aware upper-middle class in a highly original narrative that matched the Filipino's contemporary dilemmas against the spirit of a nationalist past as embodied by the kundiman. It posed the hard questions: Fight or flight? Comfortable retirement or return to the fray? --AH

7. "Manila Notes" (Tanghalang Pilipino or TP). Rody Vera's adaptation of Oriza Hirata's "Tokyo Notes" elegantly captured the cadence of everyday life--in this landscape of musicals and melodramas, a rare and refreshing opportunity to just listen to the characters ruminate on art and on the fragility of life. Nothing and everything, happening all at once: That was the beauty of this play. --VGY

8. "Side Show" (Atlantis Theatrical Entertainment Group or ATEG). An old-fashioned spectacle of a production, featuring radiant performances and no shortage of emotionally resonant songs, and one that, through Gab Pangilinan and Kayla Rivera's depictions of the conjoined Hilton sisters, emphasized the strength of sisterhood and companionship in the face of a monstrous world. --EMIL HOFILEÑA

9. "Silent Sky" (Repertory Philippines). With none of the anti-patriarchal rage of many feminist productions, this retelling of astronomer Henrietta Swan Leavitt's fight for intellectual and civil freedom eloquently gave its characters the voice they never had in real life. The moments of frustration and heartbreak could be touching, but what broke through was its women's inner wellspring of hope and optimism. --CL

10. "Waitress" (ATEG). Masquerading as a kooky romantic comedy while revealing itself as an ode to generations of resilient women, it possessed an earnestness that snuck up on you. A note-perfect Joanna Ampil led a wildly entertaining cast through every heartbreak and through every one of Sara Bareilles' soaring melodies. --EH

Plus:

Dulaang UP's "Ang Dalagita'y 'sang Bagay na Di-buo," Vera's Filipino adaptation of the Annie Ryan play based on Eimear McBride's "A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing," told--in heart-rending, soul-torching ways--one woman's wretched life. Four actresses alternated as the titular woman of this nearly two-hour monologue; the night I watched, Skyzx Labastilla delivered a tour de force in this Herculean part. --VGY

"Nagwawalang Gubat," Luarca's adaptation of Caryl Churchill's "Mad Forest," a three-act chronicle of Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceausescu's ouster, proved to be a must-see with its surprising acuity, power and fury. Directed by JK Anicoche, the student cast from the Philippine High School for the Arts was a powerhouse ensemble whose abilities equaled those of seasoned university theater actors. --CL

The Sandbox Collective's "Lungs"--90 minutes of virtually nonstop communication and miscommunication covering cradle to grave--beautifully explored a tough but authentically affecting relationship, with a contemporary script that was LOL-funny as it was wrenching. Andrei Pamintuan's minimalist production was amazingly effective in portraying the emotional and psychological odyssey of its protagonists, carried off with flair by a charismatic duo-cast. --AH

Best Performances of 2018

"Ang Pag-uusig."

1. Joanna Ampil ("Waitress"). Her spirited take on her character--the resolute, optimistic but oppressed wife--never descended into Disney-like, saccharine mawkishness. Who knew a song or two about baked pies could be so moving? --CL

2. Cathy Azanza-Dy ("Silent Sky"). Boisterous courage, passion fueled by an unyielding intelligence, and a sly vulnerability made her Henrietta Swan Leavitt dominate the stage. Thus, viewers didn't have to understand the intricacies of early astronomy to rally to her cause. --CL

3. Stella Cañete-Mendoza ("Dekada '70"). Through the years, Cañete-Mendoza (often in partnership with husband Juliene) has given us a number of wonderfully vivid Filipino women onstage, but it would be difficult to match her spectacular Amanda Bartolome, which ran the gamut from yearning but loyally repressed housewife to uncomprehending and anguished mother to defiantly liberated and self-realized woman. Her final scene at the head of the full ensemble, her clenched fist raised, was indelible. --AH

4. Shamaine Centenera-Buencamino ("The Kundiman Party"). In a production crammed with memorable performances, her hauntingly nuanced Maestra Adela, standing out as one of the most fully realized characters in recent Philippine theater, embodied the social contradictions and conflicted idealism of (some of) the Filipino bourgeoisie, in moods variously hilariously, acerbic and defiant. A brilliant performance, perhaps standing beside her Katherine Brandt in Red Turnip's "33 Variations." --AH

5. Maronne Cruz ("Waitress"). She took what could have easily been a collection of cheap, shallow quirks and fashioned a genuinely endearing character for herself. With impeccable comedic timing and an aching sense of longing, she never let Dawn's eccentricities obscure her beautiful heart. --EH

6. Sheila Francisco ("A Doll's House, Part 2"). As the loyal, feisty housekeeper, Francisco stood out in an already small cast of towering performances, her chameleonic demeanor of shifting into contrasting emotions breaking down the other characters' defenses to show their true motivations. --CL

7. Sab José ("Lungs"). Theater aficionados would know José from her featured roles in lighthearted productions like "Eto Na!" and "No Filter." In the Sandbox Collective's "Lungs," she came into her own as a full-fledged dramatic actress, her bravura portrayal of the feminine end of a neurotic but loving relationship breathlessly spanning the play's length and the lifetime of a complex woman--funny, exasperating, touching. --AH

8. Sherry Lara ("'night, Mother"). The year's first great performance was Lara's take on the elderly everywoman archetype--a mother desperately and hopelessly trying to delay her daughter's intended suicide--in a nerve-wracking, 90-minute, life-or-death salvo. --VGY

9. Missy Maramara. In four productions, intensity and verve remarkably displayed through an astonishing range of roles: a haplessly conflicted Lady Anne in "RD3RD," an adaptation of Shakespeare's "Richard III" at the Ateneo Areté; a dizzying multiplicity of vivid characters, all revolving around a harrowingly abused protagonist, in "Ang Dalagita'y"; the delightfully liberated Tita Mitch in "The Kundiman Party"; and a gallery of vignettes in New Voice Company's short-lived "The Vagina Monologues," running the gamut of tones from sly wit to fiercely felt pain. --AH

10. Gab Pangilinan ("Side Show"). Despite being joined at the hip to the impressive Kayla Rivera, Pangilinan distinguished herself as the ambitious Daisy Hilton--fighting past her character's physical limits and emerging as a fully formed individual who was as world-weary as she was indomitably protective. --EH

11. Aicelle Santos ("Himala: Isang Musikal"). Santos reinvented one of Filipino cinema's most tragic characters, channeling a nation's all-consuming desperation and making us feel Elsa's every sacrifice. Pushing herself to magnificent vocal heights, she left unforgettable scars that you could get only from live theater. --EH

12. Brian Sy ("Desaparesidos"). He was in a league of his own as the rebel Roy, taking the viewer on a journey that plumbed the depths of patriotism, and more importantly, fatherhood and manhood. This was an actor finally landing the role and spotlight worthy of his talents. --VGY

13. The cast of "Manila Notes." There were no "stars" in this play. Instead, it featured the year's finest ensemble, the pitch-perfect playing ranging from meatier comic turns by Meann Espinosa and Kathlyn Castillo to those so-called peripheral parts smartly rendered large, such as Elle Velasco's museum curator. --VGY

Plus:

First, three vital performances from three reruns: Shaira Opsimar as the new Aileen in the sixth run of "Rak of Aegis"; Marco Viaña as the definitive John Proctor in TP's "Ang Pag-uusig"; and Mikkie Bradshaw-Volante, doing wonders with just a single song in ATEG's "Kinky Boots."

Second, three featured performances that all but ran away with their respective shows: the comic geniuses Carla Guevara-Laforteza ("Rapunzel! Rapunzel! A Very Hairy Fairy Tale") and Bibo Reyes, who made a star turn out of "awkward, philandering gynecologist" in "Waitress"; and Kakki Teodoro's weave-snatching town prostitute in "Himala." --VGY

Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo's cold, calculating turn as Nora Helmer in "A Doll's House, Part 2" didn't win hearts or evoke sympathy, but dislodged viewers from their intellectual comfort zones. --CL   

10 Artistic and Technical Standouts of 2018

"Marisol" with TA artistic director Guelan Luarca.

1. Three examples of effective, detailed set design: Benjamin Padero's cluttered, lived-in bungalow for "'night, Mother"; the academic, music-loving tita's domain as built by Mitoy Sta. Ana for "The Kundiman Party"; and for "Waitress," David Gallo's pink-and-blue pie diner, with its rotating centerpiece, giving life to its characters' escapist fantasies. --VGY

2. Myke Salomon's brand-new, kaleidoscopic arrangements of Eraserheads classics for Full House Theater Company's "Ang Huling El Bimbo," with some songs taking on completely different contexts and others simply growing in scale and intricacy. --EH

3. In "Silent Sky," Joey Mendoza's brownish, boxed set of 19th-century America, as lit by John Batalla, opens up to a canvas of limitless stars, epitomizing the protagonist's quest to unlock their secrets and push beyond her own limits. --CL

4. Daniel Bartolome and Orly dela Cruz reworking Apo Hiking Society for "Eto Na!" where each tune felt organically and unpretentiously introduced into the far-from-simplistic story (book by Robbie Guevara, with cowriter Jonjon Martin). --CL

5. In "Himala," the desolation of Barrio Cupang, suffocated by darkness and ghostly voices, as designed by Ed Lacson Jr. (set), Barbie Tan-Tiongco (lights), Carlo Pagunaling (costumes) and Vincent de Jesus (musical direction). --EH

6. "Desaparesidos" turning martial law into a frantic, claustrophobic, multimedia nightmare (choreography by Jomelle Era, set by Charles Yee, lights by D Cortezano, sound by Arvy Dimaculangan, projections by Steven Tansiongco). --EH

7. Mark Dalacat's constrictive set, lit by D Cortezano, captured the kind of somber, ravaged in-between suggested by Tanghalang Ateneo's "Marisol," with superlative sound work--yet again--from Teresa Barrozo. --VGY

8. The evolving world of TP's "Balag at Angud," as designed by Toym Imao and Marco Viaña, built from and mirroring the same found objects that sculptor and installation artist Junyee, the musical's subject, worked with. --EH

9. Rody Vera's scripts for "Ang Dalagita'y" and "Manila Notes" as bookends to yet another prolific year of theater writing. --VGY

10. Jodee Aguillon's set for "Lungs" was the essence of minimalism: a plain platform as stage, framed by four poles at its corners, among which Miggy Panganiban's play of lights suggested shifts of scenes and passage of years. This minimalism conveyed a world of emotions and a history of lives for an equally minimalist cast. --AH

Director of the Year

"A Doll's House, Part 2" with director Cris Villonco.

One name consistently popped up in our individual lists: Ed Lacson Jr., in what qualifies as a career-high work, his bare-bones approach to "Himala" bringing forth sensational performances and the tangible barrenness of a wretched place.

Next, Guelan Luarca for "Desaparesidos," though he was already honored in this same space two years ago for that play's initial version.

Finally, four other notables: Bobby Garcia ("Waitress"), Robbie Guevara ("Eto Na!"), Cris Villonco ("A Doll's House, Part 2") and Joy Virata ("Silent Sky"). --VGY

PDI Review: 'Manila Notes' by Tanghalang Pilipino

The last show I saw for 2018 turned out to be one of the best. The website version of my review here.

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'Manila Notes': Fitting finale to 2018 theater scene

Nothing of magnitude happens in Tanghalang Pilipino's "Manila Notes."

By magnitude, of course, we mean onstage fireworks, 11 o'clock numbers and gripping altercations, those so-called big theatrical moments that both stop the show and make the audience silently beg for more.

The closest "Manila Notes" has to such a moment is probably the brilliant comic actress Meann Espinosa ending a low-key argument with a two-word punch line: "Ang weird!"

Or, much later in the play, Espinosa briefly scuffling with a museum curator over a digital camera (whose existence, you suddenly remember, has been all but snuffed out by smartphones).

But Espinosa isn't the main star here. There are no "stars" in this play. "Manila Notes" is an ensemble piece through and through, adapted by Rody Vera from Oriza Hirata's "Tokyo Notes."

The action seamlessly unfolds in real time in a corner of an unnamed Manila museum. It is 2034, and a war in Europe has consequently led to a global evacuation effort of cultural property, the scale of which recalls the peerless work of the Monuments Men during World War II. Imagine Manila as refuge for Vermeer paintings.

Cadence of everyday life

Inside the museum, all is spick and span. The viewer becomes acquainted with a multitude of characters, most of them visitors checking out the European acquisitions. And the longer they talk, the more it dawns on you just how refreshing the dialogue is: Hirata, by way of Vera, has captured the cadence of everyday life.

It's liberating, to say the least, this opportunity to just listen and lose one's self in the conversations of relatively nondescript people--a full 180 from the past month's kinetic theatrical offerings, like Atlantis Theatrical's first-rate "Waitress," or the audience-pleasing "Mula sa Buwan," or Tanghalang Ateneo's "Marisol."

Listen closely, though, and the great irony reveals itself: Impermanence is slathered all over this play whose one superficial point seems to be, "Take your time." It's not just the looming threat of war spilling across the continents; it's the idea of finality hounding every scene.

The family of Espinosa's character, having decided to meet up in the museum for dinner, must also deal with the inevitable, foreseeable future of their aging parents back home, wherever home is.

One of the sisters, played with affecting restraint by Mayen Estañero, is in a failing marriage. A pilot and his significant other embody the fragility of long-distance relationships, besides the fragility of human life itself.

Metaphorical

On a larger, more metaphorical scale, there's even the art as refugee, in a reversal of fortunes when viewed alongside the European migrant crisis that has upended so many lives. It's mortality as a Damoclean sword, dangling over everybody's head.

This grimness isn't immediately accessible, however, which makes viewing this play even more of a challenge. Besides the meditative exchanges, what constitutes the bulk of the dialogue appears to be ekphrasis--and not just clear-cut commentary on the art on fictive display, but also the role of art itself in the larger scheme of things.

That's not exactly everybody's idea of a fun afternoon in the theater. But in a landscape of musicals and sentimental dramas, this play is a rarity. And if it languidly takes its time, it also generously rewards one's patience.

The beauty--and pleasure--is in the details, in the dialogue that seems pulled right out of an unpretentious viewer's tongue, in the pitch-perfect acting of the ensemble directed by Hirata himself. Nothing and everything, happening all at once--that's not something one completely grasps with just a single viewing, which is to say, yes, this show is worth a second look.

"Manila Notes" is the final piece of theater to open in Manila this year. And what an absorbing, elegantly rendered finale it is.

PDI Review: 'Larawan ng Pilipino Bilang Artist(a)' by St. Benilde Theater Arts Program

I thought "M. Butterfly" was already the year's worst production. Until this unqualified disaster came along. The website version of the shortest review I have written here.

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A mind-numbing 'Larawan ng Pilipino Bilang Artist(a)'

That relentless, thunderous crash you might have heard at the College of St. Benilde (CSB) Theater was the sound of the fourth wall being pummeled, then flimsily fixed, then pummeled again--in a vicious cycle that lasted almost three hours--in the mind-numbing production of Nonon Padilla's "Larawan ng Pilipino Bilang Artist(a)," which ended its two-week existence Dec. 1.

To be fair to the production, which, with the exception of Padilla and some guest actors, was powered by students of the CSB Theater Arts program, the material itself was already a slog.

The wearying fourth-wall breaking was merely symptomatic of this play's need to talk and talk and talk--to explain to unnecessary lengths what should have already been visible to the viewer; to use dialogue as excuse for tedious exposition; in a couple of cases, to even attempt something that must have been this play's idea of metaphorical profundity.

Unauthorized sequel

This unauthorized sequel to the Nick Joaquin classic "Portrait of the Artist as Filipino" was supposed to be a parody.

In Joaquin, the sisters Candida and Paula Marasigan grappled with impending poverty, slippery romances and the obnoxious high society in pre-World War II Intramuros.

Now, Padilla transported them to mid-1970s Forbes Park, after 30 years in New York, and with martial law in full swing.

But if the comedy was already weak on paper--one too many in-jokes floundered, and there's even a superficial jab at Joaquin's "The Woman Who Had Two Navels"--it's almost lost in the hands of this production.

Despite the best efforts of veterans like Bembol Roco and Sherry Lara, the cast resembled a herd with the shepherd gone Awol, so that one couldn't help wondering whether or not any serious, conscientious direction was part of the process at all.

There was no sense of day or night, of logical time and concrete place, of narrative flow significant enough to warrant the play's length. What happened, happened. What's onstage, was onstage.

And this story--this production--unfolded simply because it could, and it felt it must, and the audience had no choice but to go along with it.   

PDI Review: 'Alyas July' by Dulaang Filipino

I caught two shows at the St. Benilde campus this week. This one's the better one. Link to the Inquirer website version of this review here.

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'Alyas July': Writer Deldoc could have junked Shakespeare

In Dulaang Filipino's "Alyas July," which had a four-day run this week at College of St. Benilde-School of Design and Arts Black Box, playwright Eljay Castro Deldoc turned the scheming politicos of Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" into scheming company members of a college theater troupe trying to get through a technical dress rehearsal of "Julius Caesar."

Adapting Bienvenido Lumbera's Filipino translation of the Bard, Deldoc wrote a play-within-a-play that sometimes called to mind the great backstage farces such as Michael Frayn's "Noises Off."

Caesar was now July, the stage name of a senior company member with (predictably) diva attributes, and the rest of the Shakespearean characters were "played" by these back-room staples--the spotlight-hungry understudy, the persecuted company manager, the inept newbie, etc.

Enjoyable

What transpired, then, was a play that could have altogether done away with its source material. "Alyas July" was far more credible--and enjoyable--when it was dealing with the idiocies and tempers of its "real" characters than when it was trying--and not entirely succeeding--to give justice to both the Shakespearean and the Lumbera texts.

Unsurprising: Deldoc has proven himself a master comedian at the Virgin Labfest, with absurd, laugh-out-loud hits such as "Ang Goldfish ni Professor Dimaandal" and "Pilipinas Kong Mahal with All the Overcoat."

Deldoc's deft hand at comedy was most evident in "Alyas July's" best sequence, which saw the character of the head stage manager (Uzziel Delamide) devolve into a hysterical breakdown in the face of the fictional production's impending doom. The whole scene could (should?) have gone and on, honestly, what with Delamide screaming and squalling and even scaling the scaffolding set to the audience's irrepressible delight.

But "Alyas July," directed by Riki Benedicto, just had to go back to its "serious" roots--a move that felt more reverential than essential--exposing the flaws of this adaptation.

Hardcore Shakespeare

It wasn't just a question of the cast of college students struggling with the hardcore Shakespeare (a painful rendition of the oft-quoted "Friends, Romans, countrymen..." speech figured in this production); it was also a question of why Deldoc felt the need to jumble the original literary text with the newly written pedestrian dialogue.

The mix wasn't smooth, to say the least; one could always spot the tonal shifts in the script, and instead of being enlightening--of somehow shedding a novel understanding to this classic--they were simply distracting.

Like the warring characters of "Julius Caesar," perhaps what this play foremost needed was to choose sides. This author, for one, is beyond excited to see Deldoc take the backstage farce all the way.

Six Poems in Likhaan 12 (!!!)

What a dream! I have six poems in the 12th issue of "Likhaan: The Journal of Contemporary Philippine Literature" by the UP Institute of Creative Writing. As far as literary journals in this country go, this is the mothership. Four of these poems--"An Ecological Disaster," "Men in the Woods," "Gallbladder" and "To Build a House"--were workshopped during the UST Workshop early this year (many thanks to Ned Parfan and his critical eye!), while "Cul-de-sac" was part of the suite that got rejected from the 2018 Ateneo Writers Workshop. Honestly the layout of this issue is giving me major ADHD vibes, so in lieu of screenshots here are the full texts.

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An Ecological Disaster

When my father starts his prayers,

it is an ecological disaster:

a boulder tumbling on the face

of a naked mountain, baked

to a perfect brown by the sun.

His words, needle-thin and ripe

with intention, plummet like acid rain

at the end of a drought.

Boys must be boys, he says,

to no particular name.

In my head, the rain gains strength,

scalding the sandy surface

of sinful dreams. It isn’t normal,

is what he means, like snow

that falls on the desert floor

and stays. When I leave

the house, it is a nightmare

for my father, who must think

I tumble from one bar to the next,

from one lover to another,

and so he spends the night

staring out the window, while I

spend my money on keys

to rooms I’d never own.

What’s natural is pre-ordained:

This, my father does not know.

The fall of a drop on parched soil,

or a boy’s heart into another’s arms,

is a story as ancient as amen,

and the storm that crumbles

rocks into grains of dirt

is as true and pure as his oldest

wish.

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Men in the Woods

I remember Julio: scar beneath a mournful

eye, and scowl on a face of china white.

A lighter peeking from his pocket the night

we met. Soaked shirts and sharp breaths

in a glade of leaves and fallen fruit.

Dante, too, and the dandelion fluff

on his crown of silver hair. His panting,

I can’t forget, gray-maned animal 

in leather pants, and shower of spit

with each thrust. Most of all, Gael,

flat on a stretcher, half-conscious, his leg

spurting blood, his head all blues

and crusting red. Took a shortcut that led

to brittle earth, then a ten-foot drop

on logs and rocks. His scream I heard,

but who called the ambulance, I don’t recall.

At break of dawn, they let us go, but not

before a round of questions, fired

at breakneck speed. Took our names,

but not what games we’d played, then sirens

breaking the silence. Nobody offered us

a ride, but we didn’t mind. Better to walk

and shake off the night, embrace the cold

spring morning all the way to the nearest

bus stop. Sunshine, soft as angels, fell

on our faces, casting our devils aside.

Nobody spoke; we only listened

to one another’s breathing, counting

our blessings. Jangle of coins in our pants,

hastily buttoned, caked with mud.

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To Build a House

we first build a ship. My father points

to the slow unmasking of the night sky,

shedding its cape of stars over parabolas

of mountains. He tells me the story

I’ve heard many times, how the king

of Athens sent his army to the woods

to bring home all the trees, each log

skinned of bark, flattened and polished

to rectangular planks. The hour too early

for breakfast or tired stories, there’s no

telling what he knows, but I know he smells

the whiskey and weed on my jacket.

Yet he chooses to say nothing, as do I,

our mutual silence as cobwebbed

as the ship on Theseus’ port, welcoming

a new plank to its soggy skeleton

until nothing remained of its old frame,

letting the builders strip it naked

rather than complain. I think of words

that hurt, like seawater feasting

on the hull of a tethered ship, and sip

my coffee instead. What does one say

to weathered kings, to fathers whose lives

are built on pretense? He points to a stain

on the linoleum, and I nod, shifting

my gaze downwards, guided by the ring

on his crooked finger: the rusting toaster,

the threadbare curtains, the staircase

in need of replacing, every surface

of this house torn apart in his mind

with the speed of one getting rid

of a sinking ship, our most sacred parts

so willfully effaced. Might as well

begin with How have you been?

Tell me everything. Tell me of your days

in prison, and I’ll tell you today

it’s been three years since I buried

my mother. And maybe we can skip

the more somber parts, the years

marked by your cold absence.

We begin with small things, words

light as feathers, maybe a smile,

maybe pardon for remembered sins.

Until gradually our vessel takes form,

its stern gilded with the faces of future

kings, its mast soaring to the ether.

Until finally, we set sail, wordless,

toward a home we no longer know.

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Gallbladder

First, fix on the valley beneath

the ribs. Know the weakest spot,

where flesh will most likely give.

The skin is thin and breaks once

pricked by nail or blade or pick.

Pick his frame, framed between

metal bars. Memorize his outline

in the dark. Often, the lights

are dimmed, if not out. Often

the others are down, if not high.

Aim the shiv, whittled from the edge

of a toothbrush, like a dart practiced

and hurled. Anticipate the hushed

thud of the stab—muscle pierced

as fish speared in a shrinking pond.

Your part is done, now play

the clueless one. Turn in bed,

facing the wall, and heed the lure

of sleep, as war spreads from

cell to cell, con versus con.  

Watch as circles multiply on bodies

in the showers. Listen at night

to screams muffled by a shirt or a palm

pressed against the lips, then see

next morning who walks with a limp.

See to it they do not stop until

they’ve come for him: the whole

of him, the bits of him, his heart

and lungs and liver, his gallbladder

and the intestines coiled in his gut.

Make more shivs. Nick your neighbor’s

razor. Bribe the lout above your bunk

to do the nicking for you. Fifteen years

means a wife all wrinkled, and a son

all grown and smart, who’ll look you

in the eyes with no hint of recognition,

and he bought that for you—a decade

and a half wasted in this ten-by-ten

with three other men. So return to him

what is owed: Keep him high, adrift

in some make-believe cloud, thinking

you’ll still run for him when both of you

get out. Wait until the dead of night,

when he’s dead asleep and can’t run

from you. Then take your aim.

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Pink and White

Four in the morning, a man begins

a hymn on a harp. Blanket of snow

on the pavement, basket of blooms,

pink and white, in the absence of light

shapeless, like a newborn melody

from way back when the hour

was slow, the ether pink and white,

the air thick with his wife’s perfume.

Notes pricking on his open wounds,

bleeding a minute trail of words.

Children, for one, though they had

none. Now a note folding

into a syllable landing square

on his tongue. Must be the taste

of warmth, bubbles in an evening

bath, a rubber duck between

slippery legs, fists of inch-long fingers.

Must be nice, this sight in a tub,

tiny bodies to rub afterwards.

If only she had more patience,

waited for this song now breaking

loose from the back of his throat,

now more croak than croon.

Old tune, older than the sky

on his forehead, the lines inscribed

beneath his eyes, the quiver in his bones.

After Mookie Katigbak-Lacuesta

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Cul-de-sac

There’s logic to this place: how these slender streets

bleed into one another, concrete weaving into concrete,

the way nerves entwine within layers of tissue,

the way familiar structures disappear in plain sight.

Turn right doesn’t mean that time we stood under

the lamppost’s amber glow, wishing the rain would end

that row over something small. The chip on the china,

perhaps, the sunflower wilting on the terrace.

Turn right means ten shots of whiskey without ice,

humming something slow and dark and glum,

like smoke trails at day’s end, like an old house

stricken with insomnia, wooden doors creaking

even with the gentlest wind. So when I told you

I was never leaving, I was hoping you would get

the smallness of my aim, not to confuse desire

with devotion, the way night lights obscure details

of a face, a dress, the faded colors on street signs.

Hoping you’d turn around, turn into the city

I’d learned to love like our own child, this city

of barren women, scarred, a free-for-all nursery.

On the way home, we passed the house with the red gate,

the carved Virgin weeping upfront. While I whispered

another prayer, plucked at random from my childhood,

you said we were past reason. Then you turned left,

which made me think you had left for good.

But you only wanted to see our old house

one last time, at the cul-de-sac where nothing good

ever happened. Where days were hard to recall,

they blended into one another, the way buildings start

to look the same after so many years, the way, waking

in the middle of the night, I can no longer tell our faces

apart, or if you've already vanished, perhaps for good.