Nearly three months since my/our last piece for the Theater section! Due to space issues (because print media in the time of COVID-19), this piece has been split into two parts, published yesterday (part 1) and today (part 2). I'm putting it here in the original, unbroken form.
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Virgin Labfest: PH experiences its first 'virtual theater'
Under ordinary circumstances, the Cultural Center of the Philippines would have resembled a pilgrimage site of sorts these last three weeks, as Virgin Labfest, the annual festival of "untried, untested, unstaged" one-act plays, holds its 16th edition from June 10-28.
But this is no ordinary time: A pandemic rages across the world, with ill-equipped, populist leaders in charge of governments, to our global misfortune.
In Manila, live entertainment has been at a standstill for 15 weeks, resulting in thousands of displaced individuals and hundreds of millions in financial losses.
What's the Filipino theater artist to do in the face of unprecedented crisis where physical proximity in a live performance is a no-no?
If you're JK Anicoche, newly installed festival director of Labfest, you forge on, doing what theater artists around the world have done the past three months--migrating online and making do with "virtual theater." The festival theme "kapit" ("hold on") couldn't have been more apt.
Substitute for live theater
One wonders what the German cultural critic Walter Benjamin would have to say about this new arrangement. In his 1935 landmark essay, "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," Benjamin briefly distinguished theater from film through two elements: the presence of camera for the latter, and a physical audience with whom the stage actor interacts constantly for the former.
But Benjamin didn't have to deal with a pandemic, nor could he have foreseen the rise of the internet, which has not only influenced how we "reproduce" and "distribute," and thus "view" and "consume" art, but which can now dictate the very creation of art itself. Especially in light of the pandemic, the distinctions laid out by Benjamin aren't so much rendered pointless as placed in positions that demand careful reflection and reconsideration.
There can be no substitute for live, physical theater as we've known it, but one might as well make room for this new "virtual" theater--works that aren't just filmed versions of live performances, but created, designed and intended to be performed for the virtual space.
While we look forward to finally returning to watching theater in real time as an intimate crowd, it is necessary, if only in the meantime, to explore what it means to be writing scripts with streaming platforms in mind; directing and performing for the unseen but ever-present audience; even presenting shows in a country where decent internet connection--the basic requirement of virtual theater--isn't common.
The nine works of this year's Labfest prompt discussion of those questions. (The 10th play of the original lineup, Dustin Celestino's "Doggy," has been pulled out of the festival.)
'Pilot Episode': Brilliant
The best of the nine is Floyd Scott Tiogangco's "Pilot Episode"--not only a cut above the rest, but also inarguably the first great Filipino play of the quarantine. The writing is a brilliant explication of mental illness, honest and compassionate in its portrayal of the cycle of helplessness that hounds not just the patient, but also the patient's loved ones, to an almost normalized degree.
The advantages of having a filmmaker at the helm are instantly recognizable. But more than just his evident grasp of working on screen, director Giancarlo Abrahan actually lends the medium of film to heighten both the storytelling and the theatrical production, instead of insisting that the theater adjust to preconceived demands of film.
The play's first half is a straightforward monologue, with Phi Palmos (in one of the year's finest turns as the bipolar protagonist) acting straight before the camera (and thus, the viewers).
The second half is a tour-de-force dramatization of a manic episode in the life of the character, who lives with his parents (Missy Maramara and Jojit Lorenzo, providing excellent support). Six rectangular screens are present throughout, as each actor shoots from two differently positioned cameras at home.
By merely playing with the screens--the "positioning" of the actors, how many screens they occupy in a scene, even the way they appear, disappear, or are cut within a screen--Abrahan is able to capture the internal and external struggles of mental illness, and renders the confusions of mania--the flight of ideas, the fluctuating emotions and energies--in surprisingly accessible and evocative terms.
The "editing" and "production design" even succeed in granting the play a sense of visual and narrative continuity.
'The Boy-boy & Friends Channel': Fine sketch comedy
Anthony Kim Vergara's "The Boy-boy & Friends Channel," directed by Joshua Tayco, also lends itself well to the virtual medium.
The play is about four friends who run one of those Youtube channels that put out inane, if selectively entertaining, content. And the inanity is reflected foremost in the use of comical (and comically cheap) visuals, from Zoom backgrounds to outlandish physical gestures (mostly care of Gabo Tolentino, a hoot as the quartet's tattoo artist friend).
The treatment is, in a way, meta: On stage, the play would have unfolded with the audience located "inside" the physical space where the characters are shooting their Youtube content; now, the viewer watches from the other side of the "camera," chunks of the play unfolding as the supposed video recording.
The play itself is too long, takes unnecessary detours, and ends unconvincingly. But when it's good, it's really good, Vergara's writing calling to mind the finest moments of sketch comedy shows like "Bubble Gang" and "Ispup," but for the Duterte era. And the perfect casting includes Jerald Napoles and Anthony Falcon, so believable as the kind of people who would casually poke fun at Duterte's drug war on their Youtube channel, that you wonder just where the script ends and the improv begins.
'Titser Kit': A marvel of simplicity
Jobert Grey Landeza's "Titser Kit" is the opposite of Vergara's play. A conversation in a school storage room between a new student, who happens to be lumad, and the teacher who is his sole friend and confidante, it is devoid of noise and is a marvel of simplicity.
Director Adrienne Vergara's "staging" evokes the limits of the play's intimate physical (as well as social) space with just two alternating camera perspectives and through the clever use of close-ups.
The play, however, is riddled with a clumsy eagerness to arrive at moments of poignancy by way of nostalgia-as-exposition. Nevertheless, in the instances that it does land those moments, in the quiet gestures and small pauses of its actors (IO Balanon and JM Salvado as teacher and student, respectively), it becomes a deceptively simple but no less illuminating discourse on the unspoken trauma of children from violence-stricken places.
'Multiverse,' 'Papaano Turuan ang Babaw Humawak ng Baril': Ravishing visuals
The inelegant handling of emotion also marks Juliene Mendoza's "Multiverse," one of two plays that know exactly what they want to achieve with their visuals--and execute those visuals with ravishing effect (the other being Daryl Pasion's "Papaano Turuan ang Babae Humawak ng Baril").
"Multiverse," directed by Fitz Bitana, runs away with its visual conceit, merging the superhero comic books of Marvel and DC with arcade video games of old. It also has the perfect stars (Iggi Siasoco and Vino Mabalot) to exude the mile-a-minute energy of its story of two brothers who rekindle bonds after the younger one's catastrophic spiral into alcoholism.
But the story's stumble into all-too-convenient melodrama is its undoing--when it starts rubbing emotions on the viewer's nose and relies on a disingenuous twist for its climax.
Pasion's play, on the other hand, looks like an oil painting, with its almost-static background of the light-deprived interiors of a meager home. The writing is also the festival's most poetic and lyrical--and to a certain extent, succeeds in intimating the personal change that affects the protagonist, a military underling's lowly wife who must finally confront the senseless violence that has long plagued her husband and her community.
But the play is overwritten, and combined with Erika Estacio's loose direction, comes across as a play of big moments and big emotions stifled by its technological platform, and too engrossed with its poetic and lyrical qualities. It also makes you wish to see Lhorvie Nuevo tackle the role of the wife onstage; here she can be affecting, but only to a degree.
'Mayang Bubot sa Tag-araw,' 'Blackpink': Burdened by narratives
Meanwhile, two plays feel more burdened than buoyed by the narrative messages they are so preoccupied with delivering.
Norman Boquiren's "Mayang Bubot sa Tag-araw," directed by Mark Mirando, apparently wants to bring to light the desecration of ancestral lands of indigenous peoples in the country, but spends an inordinate amount of time skimming the surface and dwelling on petty and less insightful matters. As the closest this festival has to outright protest theater, the play seems hesitant to dramatize the issues that demand dramatizing (relegating those to its final 10 minutes), or perhaps, too overwhelmed by the issues it initially sought to tackle.
It's even more baffling with Tyron Casumpang's "Blackpink," directed by Jethro Tenorio. It positions itself as progressive, an ally of the LGBTQ community, in creating the characters of a father who has long accepted his son's homosexuality, and of the son whose family rallies behind him to fight for his right to dance to a Korean girl group's song in the school talent show.
But as the characters unravel--the "gay" son reveals he is straight, and at one point, the father dictatorially commands his sons to admit to their homosexuality in the name of self-acceptance--the play becomes more confused, and ends up dropping its agenda in favor of a "fun" and "family-friendly" conclusion.
"Blackpink" is not exactly "I have gay friends, so I can't be homophobic" made manifest, but it sure resembles that friend who claims to be an ally, but nonetheless proceeds to bully (and betray) you, and ultimately tells you to forego and forget politics in the name of "friendship."
'Dapithapon,' 'Gin Bilog': Fragmented
As for Jay Crisostomo IV's "Dapithapon," directed by Sig Pecho, and Luisito T. Nario's "Gin Bilog," directed by James Harvey Estrada, what's most striking is how the translation from stage to screen seems to have significantly lost the written work's essence.
"Dapithapon" is a nostalgia trip for those who miss their adolescence in the presocial media age. Its day-in-the-life story of three boys in the twilight of high school thrives on dick jokes, bathroom humor, and just tons of broad comedy that it doesn't land all the time.
But onscreen, the energy the play would have derived from portraying three hormonal teenagers in a single space is now fragmented and muted, so much so that the arrival of Ina Azarcon-Bolivar (as the larger-than-life teacher) late in the play becomes such a welcome disruptive force.
The fragmentation and lost-in-translation effect is worse for "Gin Bilog," an absurd comedy about three drunks whose night gets out of hand and ends morbidly. It would be pretentious to say with certainty how this play could have transpired on a physical stage, but this virtual version unfortunately comes across as rudimentary in so many ways, from the attempts at animation to the strangely catatonic delivery of the comedy.
'Wanted: Male Boarders,' 'Jenny Li': Utter delight
Instead, the other runaway success of this Labfest is in the Revisited section (traditionally, the three plays from the previous year chosen to return for the current season).
Rick Patriarca's "Wanted: Male Boarders," which distilled its central theme--that prejudice is learned, and can be unlearned--into its go-for-broke telling of three hypermasculine guys who must learn to live with their gayer-than-gay new housemate, now comes with a subtitle: "Vidjokol edition."
Pacing issues notwithstanding, what an utter delight this play directed by George de Jesus III has become. Not only does it makes punchlines out of the notion of phone and video sex in the age of smartphones, it has also fully committed to the idea of the smartphone as the stage, and cleverly situates itself in the time of the pandemic--which means TikTok, Snapchat filters, freezing screens, Kim Chiu's "Bawal Lumabas," Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande's "Rain on Me," and so forth.
The result is a completely new staging that would no doubt merit a spot in the Revisited section.
And among the staged readings we've caught, Buch Dacanay's "Jenny Li," directed by Nour Hooshmand, is one that demands to be seen.
It's ridiculous to call this a staged reading (it's a fully staged virtual production, come on!), and its use of a twist as dramatic device may comes across as deceptive and counterproductive in the context of the story it wants to tell.
But this is a play that addresses the unending issue of rape, male predatory behavior, and the exceptional bravery it always takes for victims to come forward--and does so with remarkable empathy and clearheadedness. A spot in the featured works section would have been more than deserved.
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