PDI Feature: Aicelle Santos, post-'Miss Saigon'

To date, Aicelle Santos has essayed only five roles in the theater--teenage Katy, Aileen, Perla in "Maynila," Gigi and Elsa. The website version of my interview here.

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Aicelle Santos: Back to flooded Venezia from war-torn Saigon

"Himala, Isang Musikal," February-March 2018.

From flooded Barangay Venezia to war-torn Saigon, and back.

Such has been the theatrical journey of Aicelle Santos, who has returned to the country after a yearlong stint in the 2017-2019 European touring production of "Miss Saigon," where she played jaded bar girl Gigi.

Now she's set to reprise the role she originated in Philippine Educational Theater Association's (Peta) "Rak of Aegis"--that of Aileen, who puts fictional Venezia on the world's radar after a video of her belting out "Basang-basa sa Ulan" goes viral--for the jukebox musical's sixth rerun, beginning July 5.

"When I got the news that 'Rak' was coming back, and Peta called, I immediately said yes," Santos says. "My first musical was 'Katy' [Spotlight Artists Centre, 2013], and the reason I have 'Rak' is because the 'Rak' people saw me in 'Katy.' 'Rak' opened a lot of doors for me. It gave me a different level of confidence."

Besides, Santos says, "'Rak' is family, especially offstage. Once you sit at Peta's dining table, you won't want to go home anymore."

Before "Saigon," "Rak's" three-month run in 2016 was already the longest production Santos had been part of--and "that wasn't even every day," she says.

Good training

"So the 'Miss Saigon' tour was really good training. We did eight shows a week and only had one day-off per week. The challenge was how to keep the performance fresh. And you do that by researching again and again, by becoming more observant of the people around you. It's more an actor's work."

More so with playing Aileen in "Rak," which Santos has done since the show's 2014 premiere. "I don't know if I can still portray a 19-year-old after this season [but] I'm actually excited on how I will interpret the role now. After a tour, musicians say, you come back a different person. I understand that now in some way."

Shortly after joining "Saigon," Santos was diagnosed with chondromalacia--the thinning of the cartilage in the bones of the knees. "It's because my physical activities in Europe were different. I was constantly walking, going up and down the stairs, plus the dance training. Here in the Philippines, we're used to having cars. We're not used to walking. Nagulat 'yung muscles ko.

"Apparently, it's the common injury among 'Saigoners.' Since the cartilage is thin, the bones rub against each other. Whenever I moved, it was painful. I had to really rest and rehabilitate for one month. I had to be injected with steroids to numb the pain, so I could do strengthening exercises for the leg [the recommended treatment in the absence of cartilage damage]. Wala pala akong muscles sa legs!"

Touring life

Injury aside, Santos says she actually enjoyed the touring life. "That was my first time away from home, living alone, outside my comfort zone. The best part was traveling. I saw places I never thought I'd see in my lifetime."

The tour took her to cities across the United Kingdom, as well as Cologne, Germany, and Zurich, Switzerland.

"My most favorite was Zurich. That was my first experience with snow. Next is Bristol, because I liked the vibe, a mix of city and countryside. Also, Norwich, because that was when my fiancé, Mark [Zambrano, the sports journalist], visited me.

"I'm open to working on another international musical but now I want to be back home to get married and start a life with Mark. If the heavens open doors for me to work abroad again, at least I can take Mark."

After "Rak," Santos will reprise her Gawad-Buhay winning turn as the purported visionary Elsa in the rerun this September of The Sandbox Collective's "Himala, Isang Musikal," the musical adaptation of Ishmael Bernal's classic film.

Having performed on both sides of the world, Santos concludes: "Foreign theatergoers are very disciplined. Everything has to be on time. When you say six o'clock, you have to be onstage at six--everyone moving and warming up. If not, you're late. No one's ever late there. They're very systematic with rehearsal, room assignments, costumes, mics. Kaya naman natin sa Pilipinas e.

"But in terms of talent, we're on par. In terms of material, we're also on par. We have good writers, good musicians, and, I think, the best actors.

"[The English] kasi, most of them come from drama and theater schools. That, we don't have. 'Yung training natin, sabak kaagad tayo sa show. So I noticed Filipinos are driven by passion. Whenever they're onstage, ramdam na ramdam mo. It's always 100 percent.

"I'm not saying foreigners are not passionate. They have heart, but we have more heart. Put a foreigner side by side with a Filipino, lakas ng impact ng Pinoy."

PDI Review: 'Roses for Ben' by Artist Playground

My God, what a train wreck. Dotnet version of my review here.

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'Roses for Ben': This version is not what audiences need to see

There is not only an artistic responsibility, but also a moral one, that comes with staging plays of urgent sociopolitical importance--the likes of "The Normal Heart" and "Angels in America," both of which deal with the HIV-AIDS crisis in profoundly illuminating ways.

Viewed through this lens, Artist Playground's "Roses for Ben"--with book and lyrics by Rayne Jarabo, music by Jesse Lucas and direction by Roeder Camañag--gives little cause for celebration.

Carelessly written

Put simply, this original Filipino musical about a gender-fluid man who discovers he has HIV is carelessly written, poorly thought-out and ineptly staged.

The musical has been marketed as an HIV-awareness play. Yet it either treats its most crucial scenes in an undignified manner or shies away from harnessing completely the dramatic truths of those moments.

The climactic scene between Ben and his father, when son finally opens up to parent about his condition, is treated almost as an afterthought. A scene set in a clinic portrays the nurse and HIV counselor as an idiot who believes the virus can be contracted from fish and an over-the-top comedic punching bag, respectively--the very antithesis to this play's pedagogical mission.

There is even a disposable song number devoted to a supporting character expounding on a rumor about someone having the virus--a rumor that the audience is expected to substitute for the truth.

Instead, this musical gives more weight to scenes and characters that do not advance the story or have no place in the fictive world whatsoever--stagnant song numbers and supporting roles whose contributions to the plot are inversely proportional to their stage time.

Which is to say, the skill involved here is very rudimentary, as if this musical's idea of a musical is song number after song number interspersed between book scenes at an exhausting rate.

And the staging does nothing to elevate the text: The actors all perform in different volumes, styles and rhythms, while the scenes are allowed to progress at their own pace.

So many more questions need answering: Why does this story seem not to care enough about its female lead to give her both a proper buildup and resolution?

Why hasn't anybody bothered tweaking those notes that Bobby Martino, as Ben's father, can't hit in his 11 o'clock number?

Maybe we'd be more forgiving if "Roses for Ben," this hatchling of a musical, were about some other topic. But the latest data from the Department of Health reveal the severity of the HIV-AIDS crisis in the country: 38 new infections every day. Now is not the time to be fooling around.

There's no denying the benevolent intent of this piece. But serious reconsideration and rewriting are warranted, especially if, as the producers have earlier said, this musical were to be toured around the country. Right now, what's certain is that this version of "Roses for Ben" is not the one audiences need to see.

PDI Feature: The ladies of 'Beautiful' on Carole King and women today

One fine day for something new in Inquirer-Theater--the website version here. (We should do more roundtable-ish piece, I think.)

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Carole King musical: A 'Beautiful' celebration of the empowered woman

Only two shows from the 2013-2014 season are still running on Broadway: Disney's "Aladdin," and the jukebox musical "Beautiful," which uses the songs of Carole King to dramatize her early career, up to the recording of her global bestseller "Tapestry." By next week, Atlantis Theatrical Entertainment Group will have premiered both musicals in the Philippines.

"Beautiful" reunites director Bobby Garcia with Kayla Rivera, who played Princess Jasmine when Atlantis staged the first non-American production of "Aladdin" in 2012 (preceding the show's Broadway bow by more than a year).

Ahead of "Beautiful's" June 14 opening, we talked with Rivera and the other eight women in the cast about King's influence in their artistic lives and what it means--and takes--to be a woman today. (The roles the women are playing are indicated in parentheses.)

Here are edited excerpts from our e-mail exchanges:

Mikkie Bradshaw-Volante (Cynthia Weil): I grew up listening to Carole King. My parents were big fans of hers: "Tapestry" was on constant rotation in our record player, and my mom and I would even jam to "It's Too Late" on the family piano.

Jill Peña (Janelle Woods/Shirelle): "It's Too Late" was a regular in my family's playlist back when the videoke era was in full swing. I was so obsessed with it, I composed a ringtone on my tita's Nokia 3210. Then, at my first-ever singing competition in college, I sang "Natural Woman."

Kayla Rivera (Carole King): At a talent showcase in Calgary, Canada, where I was born and raised, I heard a friend sing "Natural Woman." Right away, I was hooked. I went home and started listening to Aretha Franklin's version. From then on, it was the song I'd always be excited to perform, even if I couldn't relate to the lyrics. My mom would tell me to sing more age-appropriate songs, but I'd insist on singing it.

Maronne Cruz (Betty): King's songs have a pervasive way of hitting the heart, even when they've been passed on and loved by generations of musicians, and reinterpreted in different ways. "Chains" by The Beatles, "Natural Woman" by Franklin, "I Feel the Earth Move" by Mandy Moore. The first two were impossible not to grow up with. The latter, I found in Moore's "Coverage" album, which is an album full of covers (go figure!).

Teetin Villanueva (Little Eva/Shirelle): Growing up, I would hear [King's] songs, like "It's Too Late" and "Natural Woman," on the radio. I learned "You've Got a Friend" for a voice class when I was in grade school, and back then, I didn't know anything about King. I was pleasantly surprised to discover she cowrote "The Loco-Motion"--I honestly had no idea!

Alex Reyes (ensemble): It was like a light-bulb moment for me when I saw "Beautiful" on Broadway in 2017. I was surprised by how many of King's songs I'd grown familiar with as a child. "Ah! She wrote that!"

Gabby Padilla (ensemble): [In "Beautiful"], not only are we celebrating King as an artist, but also King as a woman who comes into her own and finds her own voice. We forget how lucky we are to live in a time when women can pursue their dreams without question (well, for the most part).

Bradshaw-Volante: What audiences need to understand is that when King started, the music industry was predominantly run by men.

Villanueva: Back then, women were expected to become teachers or housewives. King broke those stereotypes.

Gab Pangilinan (Marilyn Wald/Shirelle): She paved the way for more female artists [see: The Shirelles!] and served as a representation of an empowered woman.

Bradshaw-Volante: [But] as much as times have changed for the better, there is still immense pressure on women. You're expected to juggle motherhood, careers, relationships--all while maintaining a tiny waistline. I don't think a lot of men realize that women wake up and charge into battle every day. This perfect contour and lipstick isn't just makeup; it's war paint.

Padilla: Oftentimes, women shrink or compromise themselves to accommodate people or relationships because we think that's all we deserve. We're so apologetic for the space we take up.

Bradshaw-Volante: "Beautiful" [celebrates] the bravery and strength required to be a woman, so you need a cast of fierce females who are up to the task.

Peña: I don't think I've cried this many times during a rehearsal period! It's like daily catharsis; the show just makes its way into your soul, and everyone comes out of it better than when she started.

Cruz: One thing I enjoy about more female-centric narratives is how they expose the different stories that women face and the different facets of femininity. Working on shows with strong female characters and cast mates always feels like my own form of activism.

Rivera: Another female-centric narrative that I was part of was "Side Show" [last year]. But that was different in that the conjoined twins Daisy and Violet Hilton had suppressed voices and were taken advantage of throughout their lives. To see "Beautiful" shed light on a woman being triumphant in a profound way leaves us with a sense of empowerment.

Pangilinan: ["Side Show"] was my first time in an Atlantis production, with Kayla [as Daisy].

Villanueva: This is my sixth Atlantis production as part of the cast, and third as Cecile Martinez's assistant choreographer, [but] I think it's the first time that majority of the cast are millennials. I'm used to being at the rehearsal venue one to one-and-a-half hours before call time, and it's refreshing to see I'm not the only one who is extra early. When we were still in the process of cleaning choreography... I remember seeing Direk Bobby arrive with a surprised look on his face because it looked like rehearsals were already ongoing.

Cruz: Bobby does a lot of bonding games and workshops for the cast in general. He's constantly verbally uplifting the women... and reminding us of our strengths that we often take for granted.

Carla Guevara-Laforteza (Genie Klein): I'm grateful to Bobby for entrusting me with this role, because this is the first show I'm doing for Atlantis where I barely sing. It's like doing a straight play. There are a lot of musicals I've been part of that had strong women characters at the center--"Miss Saigon," "Song and Dance," "Nine"--and it's not any different from working on a show where the man is the lead. You give the same effort and deliver the same level of performance quality to each show. When I was starting [in theater], there were only three of us in my batch in Repertory Philippines who were being groomed to be future leading ladies (the others were Sheila Valderrama-Martinez and Maya Barredo), so we had the advantage of being personally trained by our mentors Bibot Amador and Baby Barredo. I can't say it's easier now [for women in theater], but consistency is key. You are only as good as your last performance.

PDI Review: 'The Kundiman Party' at the Peta Theater Center

Let me say it again: Any Floy Quintos play is an event. He says he's done writing new plays, but let's all pray he changes his mind. The website version of this review here. (I was supposed to review the original run last year, but appendicitis happened.)

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'Kundiman Party': Keep fighting the good fight, no matter the odds

Curtain call at "The Kundiman Party."

Eleven o'clock numbers (the theater term for a show-stopping song late in the second act) apply only to musical theater, but the penultimate scene in Floy Quintos' "The Kundiman Party" now feels like one.

In that scene, the dishonorable senator Juancho Valderrama finally comes face-to-face with his estranged son, Bobby, who has taken the opposite path as a voice of the resistance movement.

That scene was already dramatically satisfying during the play's premiere at the University of the Philippines-Diliman last year, with Kalil Almonte as Bobby going against an appropriately slimy Teroy Guzman--the rebel standing up to the ruler.

This time, Nonie Buencamino plays the senator, and Boo Gabunada is Bobby--and what they bring to the show is an electric, more familial dynamic.

Gabunada's Bobby is angrier, louder, more kinetic--a child prematurely molded by the harsh streets to become the fighter that he is. Beneath that facade of the woke millennial is a boy who learned to survive on his own. It's a character arc conveyed so convincingly, that by the time Buencamino enters the fray, all of Bobby's strident aggression makes perfect sense. 

What surprisingly surfaces is a long-dormant father-and-son relationship.

Buencamino's senator somehow reveals a caring parent underneath that veneer of calculated evil. And yet, his performance is made all the more delectable by its ambiguity: Is he really a caring father more than he is a politician, or is he just being a politician and fooling us all?

What's left unspoken

It's astonishing how that singular scene is steered by what the characters leave largely unspoken--the years of absence and repressed hurt finally taking control of the situation.

When Buencamino's senator tells his son to go to the mountains because that's where the real battle is--even though "I may lose you, anak"--you know that Gabunada's Bobby might very well do just that, if only to perform the ultimate act of rebellion.

And then it dawns on you that somehow, Bobby is now all of us--the ones who hoped for a tide of genuine change in the recently concluded midterm elections, and saw that hope annihilated; the ones who have carved their own corner in social media, helping fight the noble fight, and still got duped by the powers-that-be.

Last year, "The Kundiman Party" came across as self-reflection for the nation, asking, as reviewer Arturo Hilado wrote for this paper, "Fight or flight? Struggle or acquiescence?"

Now, three years into the Duterte administration and with the return to the Senate of some of the biggest thieves, those questions no longer await our individual answers so much as demand them.

The rest of the company are still in topflight form. Shamaine Centenera-Buencamino's portrait of the songstress Adela, in whose home the story unfolds, remains a masterful creation of the stage; her accent alone, littered with subtle hints of one who feels alien to both Filipino and foreign tongues, works wonders in the storytelling.

But when the senator proclaims to Adela that "we are building a new nation," it's hard not to feel the make-believe giving way to reality. This time around, "The Kundiman Party" isn't just telling us to "resist" from the comforts of our echo chambers; it's already imploring us to keep fighting the good fight despite the miserable odds.