On our way to watch Andrew Lloyd Webber's Aspects of Love at the Chocolate Menier Factory (a witty, delicate, wonderfully scaled-down version by the musical's original director, Trevor Nunn), my friend Dan insisted we sit on the upper deck of a London double-decker bus, the better to see the sights.
Since I was new to the city, I usually preferred staying on the lower deck, which had a small ticker-tape screen announcing the successive bus stops, accompanied by a voiceover ("Next stop: Grosvenor Square." Ay, Grovenor pala 'yun, not Gros-ve-nor!) I was navigating London by map, so I needed to keep close tabs on names, directions, places to transfer, etc. Fortunately, the city's public transport system, whether by bus or subway, is amazingly detailed, the information so complete that I didn't have a hard time figuring how to go from one place to the next.
Because Dan was working on weekdays, I'm proud to say I went around London mostly on my own, and didn't get lost once. For this late morning, however, I was in the company of a long-time London resident, so I ditched the map and turned on my Flip videocam instead to capture the part of the city we were traversing.
We passed by Piccadilly Circus and its swarm of tourists, Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square, the National Gallery and the Strand, plus a number of theaters housing productions such as 39 Steps, Sweet Charity, Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera and Love Never Dies, The Prisoner of Second Avenue with Jeff Goldblum and Mercedes Ruehl, the movies-turned-stage-musicals Dirty Dancing and Legally Blonde, Mamma Mia! and, fleetingly, The Lion King (which I would watch a day later).
Along the way, Dan and I were yakking unself-consciously as he pointed out places and talked about the embarrassment of riches offered by this world capital of culture and the arts. Here, you're invited to eavesdrop:
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Little Women is Rep's December 2010 offering
For its traditional December holiday production, Repertory Philippines is staging the family musical “Little Women.” Based on the novel by American author Louisa May Alcott, this production tells the joyous and heartwarming story of the March family: how they overcome challenges and gain love and unity in the process.
“Little Women” runs Nov. 20-Dec. 12, 2010, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., with matinees at 3:30 p.m. on Saturdays and Sundays, at Onstage, 2/F Greenbelt 1, Ayala Center, Makati City.
“This is a wonderful story that’s appropriate for the holiday season,” says director Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo. Yulo won the 2009 Philstage Gawad Buhay for Female Lead Perfomance in a Musical for her turn as Mrs. Lovett in Rep’s “Sweeney Todd.” Her most recent directing credit was for the musical “West Side Story.”
“Audiences will see how the March sisters depend on each other as a family and how they cope as their father is away serving the American Civil War,” she says. “They’re a fun bunch: brash aspiring writer Jo, romantic Meg, pretentious Amy, and kind-hearted Beth. Audiences will surely be able to relate to these four little women.”
With music by Jason Howard, lyrics by Mindi Dickstein and book by Allan Knee, the musical will be staged at Rep’s home for the past several years: Onstage Theater in Greenbelt 1 Mall in Makati City.
“We’re at a convenient location for families or friends. There are many things they can do before or after watching our shows, like shopping, dining out, visiting the nearby Ayala Musuem or even simply enjoying the outdoor garden spaces.”
“Little Women” has been adapted into at least four anime (Japanese animation) versions and has been made into film versions with Katherine Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor. The latest Academy Award-nominated adaptation was done in the mid-90s starring Winona Ryder, Kirsten Dunst, Claire Danes, Susan Sarandon and Christian Bale.
“The production is also a great learning or teaching tool,” says Lauchengco-Yulo. “We encourage educators and parents to make our production part of their December schedule. There is nothing like a live performance to make literature come alive.”
Gerard Salonga conducts the FILharmoniKA orchestra. New York City-based Joey Mendoza handles set design, while Tuxqs Rutaquio does costume design and John Batalla does lighting design.
For ticket inquiries and other information, call Repertory Philippines 5716926, 5714941 or e-mail info@repertory-philippines.com. Tickets also available at Ticketworld 891-9999 or www.ticketworld.com.ph.
The Power Plant stages full-length Broadway musical in the mall--for free
On October 6-7, The Power Plant Mall, the favorite mall of fashionable Manila and a big supporter of the arts, offers another mall innovation: a full Broadway musical to be presented in the middle of a mall--the first of its kind in the country, and for free.
Using the unique viewing experience of theater in the round, where the audience surrounds the performance at all angles, The Power Plant will stage the Broadway hit “It’s A Grand Night For Singing” by Rodgers and Hammerstein at The Concourse, the Power Plant’s dining area, at 7 p.m. Customers dining in the surrounding food outlets can enjoy the experience while savoring their food or sipping their favorite drinks.
Starring singer-dancer and accomplished theater actor Red Concepcion (who last starred in “Equus”), former Akafellas tenor Reuben Uy (who played Stanley Kowalski in Tanghalang Pilipino’s “A Streetcar Named Desire”), dramatic actress and singer Bea Garcia (of Atlantis Productions' “Spring Awakening”), violinist and actress Farida Kabayao (who played the Fiddler in Repertory Philippines’ “Fiddler on the Roof”) and professional dancer, actress and singer Tasy Garrucha (Zafira in Dulaang UP’s restaging of “Orosman at Zafira”), “It’s A Grand Night For Singing” showcases the music of Richard Rodgers and the lyrics of Oscar Hammerstein II. It took Broadway by storm when it was first staged in 1993.
Like the TV show “Glee, the play is a musical revue--a musical that “mashes” songs from different musicals together and weaves them into a different story and context. It features songs from “South Pacific,” “The King and I,” “State Fair,” “Carousel,” “Oklahoma!” and “The Sound of Music.”
The musical was originally presented cabaret-style at Rainbow & Stars at the top of Rockefeller Center. It ran for 52 performances and was nominated for two Tony Awards, Best Musical, Best Book of a Musical and the Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Revue.
Directed by stage actress Ana Abad Santos and choreographed by dancer and choreographer Nonoy Froilan, “It’s A Grand Night For Singing” is also headlined by the MusicArtes Chamber Orchestra, with musical direction by Onyl Torres.
“The Power Plant Mall is always thinking of ways to bring shopping, dining and leisure time to a whole new dimension for our shoppers and guests,” says Mark Dantes, Marketing Supervisor, Rockwell Land Corporation. “We try to bring them the latest trends and the most memorable experience they could possibly get in a mall. Their response to our Feel Harmonic Series--where we put the Philharmonic Orchestra on different levels of the Power Plant Mall for a truly powerful musical mall experience--has inspired us to bring mall entertainment one notch higher. That’s why we thought of this full musical in a mall as a fitting sequel which I’m sure they’ll enjoy tremendously,”
For inquiries and reservations, call (02) 8981702.
[Photo: Manila Gateway]
Using the unique viewing experience of theater in the round, where the audience surrounds the performance at all angles, The Power Plant will stage the Broadway hit “It’s A Grand Night For Singing” by Rodgers and Hammerstein at The Concourse, the Power Plant’s dining area, at 7 p.m. Customers dining in the surrounding food outlets can enjoy the experience while savoring their food or sipping their favorite drinks.
Starring singer-dancer and accomplished theater actor Red Concepcion (who last starred in “Equus”), former Akafellas tenor Reuben Uy (who played Stanley Kowalski in Tanghalang Pilipino’s “A Streetcar Named Desire”), dramatic actress and singer Bea Garcia (of Atlantis Productions' “Spring Awakening”), violinist and actress Farida Kabayao (who played the Fiddler in Repertory Philippines’ “Fiddler on the Roof”) and professional dancer, actress and singer Tasy Garrucha (Zafira in Dulaang UP’s restaging of “Orosman at Zafira”), “It’s A Grand Night For Singing” showcases the music of Richard Rodgers and the lyrics of Oscar Hammerstein II. It took Broadway by storm when it was first staged in 1993.
Like the TV show “Glee, the play is a musical revue--a musical that “mashes” songs from different musicals together and weaves them into a different story and context. It features songs from “South Pacific,” “The King and I,” “State Fair,” “Carousel,” “Oklahoma!” and “The Sound of Music.”
The musical was originally presented cabaret-style at Rainbow & Stars at the top of Rockefeller Center. It ran for 52 performances and was nominated for two Tony Awards, Best Musical, Best Book of a Musical and the Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Revue.
Directed by stage actress Ana Abad Santos and choreographed by dancer and choreographer Nonoy Froilan, “It’s A Grand Night For Singing” is also headlined by the MusicArtes Chamber Orchestra, with musical direction by Onyl Torres.
“The Power Plant Mall is always thinking of ways to bring shopping, dining and leisure time to a whole new dimension for our shoppers and guests,” says Mark Dantes, Marketing Supervisor, Rockwell Land Corporation. “We try to bring them the latest trends and the most memorable experience they could possibly get in a mall. Their response to our Feel Harmonic Series--where we put the Philharmonic Orchestra on different levels of the Power Plant Mall for a truly powerful musical mall experience--has inspired us to bring mall entertainment one notch higher. That’s why we thought of this full musical in a mall as a fitting sequel which I’m sure they’ll enjoy tremendously,”
For inquiries and reservations, call (02) 8981702.
[Photo: Manila Gateway]
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Glasses off
The doctor pokes at my eye, fiddles with some lenses, asks me questions, then tells me: You need to start wearing reading glasses.
Me: Huh? But I have contact lenses on.
Doctor: Yes, on top of them. How old are you--38? It's normal for people in their midlife to begin wearing reading glasses. Napaaga lang sa'yo konti. Here, try this. (Hands me a pair.)
Me: Okay, luminaw nga.
It's been two years now, but I haven't adjusted fully to the routine of fishing out my pair to read the papers, the menu, a book. Worse is when I take off my contact lenses and revert to my ordinary glasses. They're no double-vision spectacles--I'm still thinking whether to order a pair of progressive glasses, which is a fancier version of doble-vista but without the tell-tale variation in lenses--so, minus the added firepower of the reading glasses, and since I'm not only near-sighted but also astigmatic, I have to actually remove the glasses and bring what's in front of me much, much closer to my face for the images to swim into focus.
That, or the more common “senior moment” of trying to read the material at a distance farther than usual, spectacles meanwhile perched on the edge of my nose. Ah, growing old.
I'd always wanted to wear glasses. In our small town, kids looking nerdy were, in fact, pointed out to their peers as the smart, intelligent ones worthy of emulation. I grew up a frail, insecure boy--shy, bookish, shoulders perpetually hunched, wispy frame drawn in--and with a growing dread that I was feeling something different inside, which manifested itself even more in wary, socially inept behavior. The only thing I felt a bit of confidence in was the knowledge that I was good in class. More often than not, I knew more than my classmates did. I was soft-spoken, diffident, avoided sports, was too refined by half--all the classic signs were there. But I was also topping tests and was Best in Spelling every time.
Wearing glasses was the ultimate validation that I was a smart kid. My classmates might call me names or jeer at my mincing ways, but sporting a pair of grown-up-looking lenses would, in my mind, allow me to have a different identity, a different life. Of course, I wasn't thinking at all in this deliberate, crystalline way I'm doing now, with the aid of clarifying hindsight. Then, I just knew, inchoately, that the “matali” (intelligent) look was my way out of being the laughingstock of kids my age for being, well, queer.
With big glasses crowding out the rest of my face, they'd have something else to look at. I'd be set apart, marked as somehow special--a freak, perhaps, but the kind parents wished their dull, ordinary, happy-go-lucky spawn would take after.
I got my first glasses in late first year high school. Every time we rehearsed for the upcoming concert of our seminary schola cantorum (that's just Latin for school choir) and the song lyrics were written on the board, I'd strain to make out the text. My parents had my eyes checked during Christmas break, and when I came back to school I was already sporting a pair. Grade: 300. That high that early, which only enhanced my reputation as the brainy one. The glasses looked ugly--two enormous lenses with thick frames that basically made me look like an owl--but I realized that only years later, with the old pictures now making me cringe.
I got to test my unarticulated theory in our senior year, when the Bicol high school seminaries held their annual meet--a week-long sportsfest slash fellowship event. For an adolescent gay guy like me, already mortified with enormous guilt, self-loathing and confusion at the psycho-sexual changes roiling inside me, it was a most terrifying time. We were expected to fraternize with peers from other schools, play ball with them, engage in horseplay and banter, be one of the boys.
I didn't play basketball or baseball, and while I ran well, it wasn't enough to make a mark. I couldn't perform in front of the crowd during fellowship nights when priests and fellow seminarians tried to outdo each other in the name of their respective schools by taking up the guitar and crooning a tune, acting out an impromptu skit or aping Michael Jackson (or Menudo) on the dance floor (yes, seminarians danced, too). And I desperately didn't know how to do small talk with the other boys.
Fortunately, there was the matter of the sportsfest newsletter--a crude daily chronicle produced by mimeograph, to which the best and the brightest of each school were expected to contribute. I took charge of the project as editor, lead writer and tireless nag--so I'd have a good reason never to be out of the room. I worked my butt off producing that rag; I didn't know it then, but it was personal to me--out there I felt like an eternal outsider, unable to do “manly” stuff. But inside that room, where I reigned with my tiny frame and heavy-set glasses, people deferred to me, gave me the benefit of the doubt. It was my refuge.
On our first general assembly, when each boy needed to introduce himself in front of the hooting, hollering crowd--even the sturdiest ones were reduced to stuttering jelly in the face of that gauntlet--the obvious limpwrists of each class took the brunt of the catcalls. From the recognizably effeminate to the one with just the hint of a swish in his step--they all had to endure the collective taunting.
My insides were all acid as I waited for my name to be called. Finally, when it was my turn, I walked stiffly to the front--and heard the words that were literally my reprieve from the gallows.
“Uy, genius, genius!” a couple of the boys called out. Not "bakla” or any one of those purring, shrieking, mocking sounds that earlier had branded other guys as the designated homosexuals of the pack. The name-calling, to my bone-deep relief, reflected entirely positively on me. Were Harry Potter already a byword then, they'd have probably called me that, too.
I'm sure I spoke nonsensically--I couldn't have made much sense in the numbed state I was in. But I was certain of one thing at that instant: My eyeglasses, and what they represented, had saved me. Because of them, I was looked at differently. If I was smart enough, or at least looked and acted the part, I could perhaps lighten the harshness, deflect the pain.
How I finally learned to stop using these framed pieces of ground glass as a prop for my callow self-esteem--now, that's another story.
Me: Huh? But I have contact lenses on.
Doctor: Yes, on top of them. How old are you--38? It's normal for people in their midlife to begin wearing reading glasses. Napaaga lang sa'yo konti. Here, try this. (Hands me a pair.)
Me: Okay, luminaw nga.
It's been two years now, but I haven't adjusted fully to the routine of fishing out my pair to read the papers, the menu, a book. Worse is when I take off my contact lenses and revert to my ordinary glasses. They're no double-vision spectacles--I'm still thinking whether to order a pair of progressive glasses, which is a fancier version of doble-vista but without the tell-tale variation in lenses--so, minus the added firepower of the reading glasses, and since I'm not only near-sighted but also astigmatic, I have to actually remove the glasses and bring what's in front of me much, much closer to my face for the images to swim into focus.
That, or the more common “senior moment” of trying to read the material at a distance farther than usual, spectacles meanwhile perched on the edge of my nose. Ah, growing old.
I'd always wanted to wear glasses. In our small town, kids looking nerdy were, in fact, pointed out to their peers as the smart, intelligent ones worthy of emulation. I grew up a frail, insecure boy--shy, bookish, shoulders perpetually hunched, wispy frame drawn in--and with a growing dread that I was feeling something different inside, which manifested itself even more in wary, socially inept behavior. The only thing I felt a bit of confidence in was the knowledge that I was good in class. More often than not, I knew more than my classmates did. I was soft-spoken, diffident, avoided sports, was too refined by half--all the classic signs were there. But I was also topping tests and was Best in Spelling every time.
Wearing glasses was the ultimate validation that I was a smart kid. My classmates might call me names or jeer at my mincing ways, but sporting a pair of grown-up-looking lenses would, in my mind, allow me to have a different identity, a different life. Of course, I wasn't thinking at all in this deliberate, crystalline way I'm doing now, with the aid of clarifying hindsight. Then, I just knew, inchoately, that the “matali” (intelligent) look was my way out of being the laughingstock of kids my age for being, well, queer.
With big glasses crowding out the rest of my face, they'd have something else to look at. I'd be set apart, marked as somehow special--a freak, perhaps, but the kind parents wished their dull, ordinary, happy-go-lucky spawn would take after.
I got my first glasses in late first year high school. Every time we rehearsed for the upcoming concert of our seminary schola cantorum (that's just Latin for school choir) and the song lyrics were written on the board, I'd strain to make out the text. My parents had my eyes checked during Christmas break, and when I came back to school I was already sporting a pair. Grade: 300. That high that early, which only enhanced my reputation as the brainy one. The glasses looked ugly--two enormous lenses with thick frames that basically made me look like an owl--but I realized that only years later, with the old pictures now making me cringe.
I got to test my unarticulated theory in our senior year, when the Bicol high school seminaries held their annual meet--a week-long sportsfest slash fellowship event. For an adolescent gay guy like me, already mortified with enormous guilt, self-loathing and confusion at the psycho-sexual changes roiling inside me, it was a most terrifying time. We were expected to fraternize with peers from other schools, play ball with them, engage in horseplay and banter, be one of the boys.
I didn't play basketball or baseball, and while I ran well, it wasn't enough to make a mark. I couldn't perform in front of the crowd during fellowship nights when priests and fellow seminarians tried to outdo each other in the name of their respective schools by taking up the guitar and crooning a tune, acting out an impromptu skit or aping Michael Jackson (or Menudo) on the dance floor (yes, seminarians danced, too). And I desperately didn't know how to do small talk with the other boys.
Fortunately, there was the matter of the sportsfest newsletter--a crude daily chronicle produced by mimeograph, to which the best and the brightest of each school were expected to contribute. I took charge of the project as editor, lead writer and tireless nag--so I'd have a good reason never to be out of the room. I worked my butt off producing that rag; I didn't know it then, but it was personal to me--out there I felt like an eternal outsider, unable to do “manly” stuff. But inside that room, where I reigned with my tiny frame and heavy-set glasses, people deferred to me, gave me the benefit of the doubt. It was my refuge.
On our first general assembly, when each boy needed to introduce himself in front of the hooting, hollering crowd--even the sturdiest ones were reduced to stuttering jelly in the face of that gauntlet--the obvious limpwrists of each class took the brunt of the catcalls. From the recognizably effeminate to the one with just the hint of a swish in his step--they all had to endure the collective taunting.
My insides were all acid as I waited for my name to be called. Finally, when it was my turn, I walked stiffly to the front--and heard the words that were literally my reprieve from the gallows.
“Uy, genius, genius!” a couple of the boys called out. Not "bakla” or any one of those purring, shrieking, mocking sounds that earlier had branded other guys as the designated homosexuals of the pack. The name-calling, to my bone-deep relief, reflected entirely positively on me. Were Harry Potter already a byword then, they'd have probably called me that, too.
I'm sure I spoke nonsensically--I couldn't have made much sense in the numbed state I was in. But I was certain of one thing at that instant: My eyeglasses, and what they represented, had saved me. Because of them, I was looked at differently. If I was smart enough, or at least looked and acted the part, I could perhaps lighten the harshness, deflect the pain.
How I finally learned to stop using these framed pieces of ground glass as a prop for my callow self-esteem--now, that's another story.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Auditions for Dulaang UP's Isang Panaginip na Fili
Auditions for Dulaang UP's restaging of “Isang Panaginip Na Fili,” written and directed by Floy Quintos, will be held today, Friday, Sept 24, 7 p.m., and tomorrow, Saturday, Sept 25, 6 p.m.
Venue: Palma Hall Room 132. Please prepare a monologue and a song/excerpt from a musical (preferably in Filipino). "Isang Panaginip Na Fili" will run Nov.24-Dec.12, 2010.
For inquiries, call or text Ric at 0917-5118000.
Major parts are still open. The production is still looking for actors to play Basilio, Juli, Isagani, Maria Clara, Juanito Pelaez, Paulita Gomez, Padre Irene, Padre Florentino, Gobernador General/Imuthis, Chorus.
“Isang Panaginip Na Fili,” a re-imagining of Jose Rizal's “El Filibusterismo,” was first staged in 2008. It features original music by Ceejay Javier, libretto by Quintos and choreography by Dexter Santos.
[Photo: Franco Laurel as Jose Rizal in the 2008 production. He reprises the role in this year's staging.]
Venue: Palma Hall Room 132. Please prepare a monologue and a song/excerpt from a musical (preferably in Filipino). "Isang Panaginip Na Fili" will run Nov.24-Dec.12, 2010.
For inquiries, call or text Ric at 0917-5118000.
Major parts are still open. The production is still looking for actors to play Basilio, Juli, Isagani, Maria Clara, Juanito Pelaez, Paulita Gomez, Padre Irene, Padre Florentino, Gobernador General/Imuthis, Chorus.
“Isang Panaginip Na Fili,” a re-imagining of Jose Rizal's “El Filibusterismo,” was first staged in 2008. It features original music by Ceejay Javier, libretto by Quintos and choreography by Dexter Santos.
[Photo: Franco Laurel as Jose Rizal in the 2008 production. He reprises the role in this year's staging.]
9 Works Theatrical's The Wedding Singer opens October 23
9 Works Theatrical presents “The Wedding Singer,” a musical comedy based on the 1998 New Line Cinema film of Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. It opens October 23, 2010, 8 p.m., at the Meralco Theater, Ortigas Avenue, Pasig City.
“The Wedding Singer,” written by Tim Herlihy, with music by Matthew Sklar, lyrics by Chad Beguelin and book by Chad Beguelin and Tim Herlihy, takes place in 1985. Rock-star wannabe Robbie Hart is New Jersey's favorite wedding singer. He's the life of the party, until his own fiancée leaves him at the altar. Shot through the heart, Robbie makes every wedding he plays as disastrous as his own.
Enter Julia, a waitress who wins his affection. Only trouble is, Julia is about to be married to a Wall Street shark, and unless Robbie can pull off the performance of the decade, the girl of his dreams will be gone forever.
With a brand new score that pays loving homage to the pop songs of the 1980’s, “The Wedding Singer” takes us back to a time when hair was was high and big, permed and curled; neon was in, greed was good, collars were up, and a wedding singer sporting a mullet just might be the coolest guy in the room.
Playing Robbie Hart is Party Pilipinas’ Gian Magdangal. who most recently appeared onstage as Roger in 9 Works Theatrical’s “Rent.” Here, he is reunited with TV personality and MYX VJ Iya Villania, whom he once shared the stage with in a local production of “Footloose, the Musical.”
Villania plays the role of waitress Julia Sullivan, alternating with theater veteran Shiela Valderrama-Martinez, who was part of the opening team of Hong Kong Disneyland as the first Asian to play Nala in the Festival of the Lion King, and Bebe in The Golden Mickeys.
Singer-actress and TV personality Nikki Valdez, who also shared the stage with Magdangal and Villania in “Footloose,” returns to the stage as Holly, Julia’s bubbly, uninhibited and lovable cousin.
Analin Bantug, who has played a bevy of roles, including Kim in her five-year stint with “Miss Saigon”-UK Tour, alternates with Valdez in the role.
Completing the cast are Jeremy Aguado, Lorenz Martinez, Johann dela Fuente, Myrene Santos, Enchang Kaimo, Arnold Trinidad, Bym Buhain, Chinie Nepomuceno, Francis Matheu, Harold Cruz, Ikey Canoy, James Stacey, Jenny Villegas, Jonjon Martin, Luau Sablan, Mark Tayag, Mian Dimacali, Miguel Vasquez, Nikki Guevara, Peachy Atilano, Sab Jose, Shelyn Tayanes and Sylveth Ong-iko.
Robbie Guevara, one of 9 Works Theatrical’s founders, directs “The Wedding Singer.” Guevara has performed in numerous productions both here and abroad, and was the director of 9 Works Theatrical's first two productions, “Songs for a New World” and “Rent.” other directorial credits include “I Love You Because, “A Christmas Carol,” “Fiddler on the Roof,” “Gay Birds” and “Romance, Romance,” all for Repertory Philippines; “Bat Boy” for Blue Repertory; “Heart & Music” and the “Rhythm of Life” for the Philippine Opera Company.
Executive producer Santi Santamaria says, “'The Wedding Singer' is a crazy and energetic musical, and audiences will surely enjoy it!” Guevara adds: “One word to describe 'The Wedding Singer?'Fun!”
The artistic team includes musical director Rodel Colmenar conducting the Manila Philharmonic Orchestra, choreographer Francis Matheu, with musical director for vocals Onyl Torres, scenographer Mio Infante, lighting designer Martin Esteva, sound designer Chuck Ledesma and costume stylist Rosanna Aranaz.
The production team has executive producer Santi Santamaria, production manager Sunshine Domine, technical director Paul Domine, PR and publicity consultant Toots Tolentino. PR director Christopher de Venecia, PR manager Jonjon Martin, marketing manager Shelyn Tayanes, stage manager Lambert de Jesus, company manager Anna Santamaria and photography by Revolution.
The show is presented through a special arrangement with Music Theatre International (MTI), 421 West 54th Street, New York, New York 10019 (tel. 212-5414684.
Playdates are October 23, 24, 29, 30, 31, November 5, 6, 7, 13 and 14, 2010. Friday, Saturday and Sunday shows at 8 p.m., with Saturday matinees at 3:30 p.m. and Sunday matinees at 4 p.m.
For tickets, call 5867105, 5575860, 0917-5545560. Visit www.9workstheatrical.com or call Ticketworld 8919999.
“The Wedding Singer,” written by Tim Herlihy, with music by Matthew Sklar, lyrics by Chad Beguelin and book by Chad Beguelin and Tim Herlihy, takes place in 1985. Rock-star wannabe Robbie Hart is New Jersey's favorite wedding singer. He's the life of the party, until his own fiancée leaves him at the altar. Shot through the heart, Robbie makes every wedding he plays as disastrous as his own.
Enter Julia, a waitress who wins his affection. Only trouble is, Julia is about to be married to a Wall Street shark, and unless Robbie can pull off the performance of the decade, the girl of his dreams will be gone forever.
With a brand new score that pays loving homage to the pop songs of the 1980’s, “The Wedding Singer” takes us back to a time when hair was was high and big, permed and curled; neon was in, greed was good, collars were up, and a wedding singer sporting a mullet just might be the coolest guy in the room.
Playing Robbie Hart is Party Pilipinas’ Gian Magdangal. who most recently appeared onstage as Roger in 9 Works Theatrical’s “Rent.” Here, he is reunited with TV personality and MYX VJ Iya Villania, whom he once shared the stage with in a local production of “Footloose, the Musical.”
Villania plays the role of waitress Julia Sullivan, alternating with theater veteran Shiela Valderrama-Martinez, who was part of the opening team of Hong Kong Disneyland as the first Asian to play Nala in the Festival of the Lion King, and Bebe in The Golden Mickeys.
Singer-actress and TV personality Nikki Valdez, who also shared the stage with Magdangal and Villania in “Footloose,” returns to the stage as Holly, Julia’s bubbly, uninhibited and lovable cousin.
Analin Bantug, who has played a bevy of roles, including Kim in her five-year stint with “Miss Saigon”-UK Tour, alternates with Valdez in the role.
Completing the cast are Jeremy Aguado, Lorenz Martinez, Johann dela Fuente, Myrene Santos, Enchang Kaimo, Arnold Trinidad, Bym Buhain, Chinie Nepomuceno, Francis Matheu, Harold Cruz, Ikey Canoy, James Stacey, Jenny Villegas, Jonjon Martin, Luau Sablan, Mark Tayag, Mian Dimacali, Miguel Vasquez, Nikki Guevara, Peachy Atilano, Sab Jose, Shelyn Tayanes and Sylveth Ong-iko.
Robbie Guevara, one of 9 Works Theatrical’s founders, directs “The Wedding Singer.” Guevara has performed in numerous productions both here and abroad, and was the director of 9 Works Theatrical's first two productions, “Songs for a New World” and “Rent.” other directorial credits include “I Love You Because, “A Christmas Carol,” “Fiddler on the Roof,” “Gay Birds” and “Romance, Romance,” all for Repertory Philippines; “Bat Boy” for Blue Repertory; “Heart & Music” and the “Rhythm of Life” for the Philippine Opera Company.
Executive producer Santi Santamaria says, “'The Wedding Singer' is a crazy and energetic musical, and audiences will surely enjoy it!” Guevara adds: “One word to describe 'The Wedding Singer?'Fun!”
The artistic team includes musical director Rodel Colmenar conducting the Manila Philharmonic Orchestra, choreographer Francis Matheu, with musical director for vocals Onyl Torres, scenographer Mio Infante, lighting designer Martin Esteva, sound designer Chuck Ledesma and costume stylist Rosanna Aranaz.
The production team has executive producer Santi Santamaria, production manager Sunshine Domine, technical director Paul Domine, PR and publicity consultant Toots Tolentino. PR director Christopher de Venecia, PR manager Jonjon Martin, marketing manager Shelyn Tayanes, stage manager Lambert de Jesus, company manager Anna Santamaria and photography by Revolution.
The show is presented through a special arrangement with Music Theatre International (MTI), 421 West 54th Street, New York, New York 10019 (tel. 212-5414684.
Playdates are October 23, 24, 29, 30, 31, November 5, 6, 7, 13 and 14, 2010. Friday, Saturday and Sunday shows at 8 p.m., with Saturday matinees at 3:30 p.m. and Sunday matinees at 4 p.m.
For tickets, call 5867105, 5575860, 0917-5545560. Visit www.9workstheatrical.com or call Ticketworld 8919999.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Dulaang UP brings back Floy Quintos' Shock Value
Dulaang UP’s 35th season brings back Floy Quintos' blockbuster play, “Shock Value,” once again under the direction of Alexander Cortez.
The play runs September 15-October 3 at the Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero Theater, U.P. Diliman, Quezon City, Wednesdays to Fridays 7 p.m., and 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. on weekends.
Quintos’ “Shock Value” takes a peek at what really goes on behind the TV cameras. What most people see on TV are canned shows which are already edited, manipulated and perfected.
The play exposes how stars are made, the lengths networks would go for ratings, the price that comes with fame, how journalism and entertainment have evolved, for better or for worse, in the era of reality television. The original 2006 script has been revised to reflect fresh and fast-changing developments in the entertainment landscape.
Comprising the large cast are Andoy Ranay, Frances Makil-Ignacio, Stella Cañete, Arkel Mendoza, Dexter Santos, Jomari Jose, Carlo Cannu, Paul Santiago, William Elvin, Mica Pineda, Nikki Ventosa, Randy Concepcion, Natasha Cabrera, Cindy Mayo and Christian Alvarado--all from the 2006 staging.
They are joined in the new production Jojit Lorenzo, Ana Abad Santos, Mylene Dizon, John Lapuz, Mitoy Sta. Ana, Cai Cortez and Nikka Angeles.
The rerun of “Shock Value” is presented by Dulaang UP, a semi-professional university-based theater company that serves as the foundation for UP Theater students’ professional exposure in the performing arts, and related fields such as scenery design as well as technical, stage, production and theater management.
For tickets, call Cherry 0917-7500107, or the Dulaang UP Office 9261349, 9818500 local 2449, or 4337840.
PLUS: What I thought of Shock Value in 2006 (from this omnibus review)--
Floy Quintos knows a thing or two about the Filipino penchant for frills and frippery. For 10 years now, he has directed “StarTalk,” a TV show that has done its fair share of scandal-mongering as well as fluff reportage on celebrities from the worlds of movies, politics and even religion.
Now Quintos, who is also a noted playwright-director, has come up with “Shock Value,” a Dulaang UP production directed by Alexander Cortez that unblinkingly sends up the excesses and inanities of the industry he moves in.
Quintos’ insider perch gives “Shock Value” the punch of eyewitness testimony. Ostensibly about the fall from grace of Matt, a brash anchorman caught up in a sexual indiscretion, the play becomes, with each successive scene, an audacious exercise in blurring reality and illusion, all wrapped up as glitzy ersatz entertainment.
Nothing in “Shock Value” is what it seems. The audience becomes part of a live studio crowd observing the taping of TV shows, with Matt’s meltdown giving the medium the excuse to go to town with ever-more outrageous ideas for ratings glory.
A pinnacle moment comes near the end of Act 1. One year after the scandal, Matt has disappeared, and newscaster Dita Mañalac-Guevarra (Frances Makil-Ignacio alternating with Stella Cañete—figure out who’s Mel Tiangco and who’s Korina Sanchez between them) intones that Matt is rumored to have gone to Tibet to live with monks and seek Nirvana, but may also be in Bangkok where he has become a showgirl.
Matt’s life is simultaneously being reenacted in the drama anthology “Huwag Mo Akong Tularan... Kailanman.” Out comes the teen heartthrob Elbert Gomez at this point, playing Matt as a transvestite. He is swathed in a Thai headdress and costume and trailed by a bevy of similarly garbed dancers, all of them gyrating to a Thai tribal-techno version of “I Will Survive.”
Act 2 can’t top that priceless moment, even as it offers a more elaborate sleight-of-hand. News that Matt is living on a remote island becomes the occasion for furious competing coverage by two networks, followed by a vacuous “Summer TV Special” complete with nubile babes and breakdancers on the beach.
Fleshing out this complex, layered work is a challenge to the large cast, not all of whom deliver.
Among the successful ones are Andoy Ranay (playing Matt as a pillar of rot, ruthlessness and pre-fab earnestness); Missy Maramara, Cañete and Makil-Ignacio, Justin de Leon, Natasha Cabrera; and various show-biz types played by Nikki Ventosa, Jacinta Remulla (a scene-stealing debut as child star-turned-bold star Little Tweety Girl), and Faust Peneyra (who also did the versatile set design aside from playing Elbert Gomez).
The choreography, performed by a peppy ensemble, is by Dexter Santos.
Quintos’ affection for the alternate universe of celebrity-hood is obvious, but so is his clear-eyed grasp of its dangers. Though “Shock Value” could use a bit more archness and grit—its likability threatens to swamp its cynicism every time—it does prompt hair-raising thoughts. Given the way TV is going, virtually every grotesque, farcical trick served up by “Shock Value” is hardly improbable anymore.
Between the cosmic uncertainties of thought of “Godot, Wer Is U?” and the tawdry certainties of this play, “Shock Value” is the genuine downer.
Tanghalang Pilipino and Lark Play Development Center of New York present Asian premiere of American Hwangap
Lloyd Suh’s “American Hwangap” makes its Asian premiere at the CCP's Tanghalang Aurelio Tolentino (Little Theater) starting September 10 until October 3, 2010.
After a successful West Coast and Off-Broadway run, Tanghalang Pilipino and the Lark Play Development Center of New York collaborate to bring the production to Philippine audiences in its original English version and in Filipino translation.
The dysfunctional comedy is set in a suburban Texas home whose members are shaken by the arrival of a long-lost father who has come home to celebrate his 60th birthday. The wife and children wrestle with their broken past as they prepare for the celebration of the “hwangap”--the 60th birthday ritual that marks the completion of the zodiac cycle and also signals rebirth.
Luminaries of theater and cinema Mario O’Hara and Gina Pareño (Tagalog cast), Bembol Roco and Celeste Legaspi (English cast) lead the ensemble completed by Liesl Batucan, Nicco Manalo and Jeremy Domingo. The play is directed by Chris Millado. Tagalog translation is by Joi Barrios Le-Blanc.
“American Hwangap” received its West Coast premiere in March 2009 at the Magic Theatre, San Francisco and then its New York premiere in May 2009 by Ma-Yi Theater Company. The play was produced as part of the Lark Play Development Center’s “Launching New Plays into the Repertoire Initiative” supported by The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation.
The New York Times described the production as “lovingly drawn and filled with endearing quirks that makes it a delight to watch.” Time Out New York recommended the production as a “must-see.”
For ticket reservations, booking of shows and other information, call TP 8323661, 8321125 local 1620/1621, or 0928-2754747 (look for Paulo or Lei), or Ticketworld 8919999.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
On being smart, 'beuduhful'--and single
Text message to co-Fabcaster CC by Cutie Grindee, whom he blogged about here.
Hi, me again. When I complimented you on your podcasts, it was based solely on the strength of a couple of 4-year old episodes. Anyway, did a little iTunes search and, wouldn't you know it, stumbled upon a treasure trove of heretofore undownloaded and unlistened-to shows! All FOUR YEARS'WORTH! After a day or two of intense fabcast bingeing, let me just reiterate... GALENG GALENG TO THE NTH POWER TALAGAAA! And having no gay friends of my own, I just want to thank you all for making me feel like a part of a virtual coven of bitches kahit a few hours a day man lang! Yun lang and more power!
Verbatim, because, hey, what better way to introduce our new podcast? This one was recorded a couple of months ago when the Fabcasters and friends hied off to this resort in Bulacan one weekend. McVie has the lowdown on that trip here. The operative element was, “It was also the first time that each and every Fabcaster was single at that time.”
How long ago that end-of-summer picnic seems now, with two Fabcasters having gotten hitched since then and, from the looks of it, a third one about to (hello, Tony, haha!).
The singular sensation of singularity (in my case, more like permanent, choz)--come laugh and learn with us!
Part 1
Download this Fabcast (right click and save)
Part 2
Download this Fabcast (right click and save)
Part 3
Download this Fabcast (right click and save)
Hi, me again. When I complimented you on your podcasts, it was based solely on the strength of a couple of 4-year old episodes. Anyway, did a little iTunes search and, wouldn't you know it, stumbled upon a treasure trove of heretofore undownloaded and unlistened-to shows! All FOUR YEARS'WORTH! After a day or two of intense fabcast bingeing, let me just reiterate... GALENG GALENG TO THE NTH POWER TALAGAAA! And having no gay friends of my own, I just want to thank you all for making me feel like a part of a virtual coven of bitches kahit a few hours a day man lang! Yun lang and more power!
Verbatim, because, hey, what better way to introduce our new podcast? This one was recorded a couple of months ago when the Fabcasters and friends hied off to this resort in Bulacan one weekend. McVie has the lowdown on that trip here. The operative element was, “It was also the first time that each and every Fabcaster was single at that time.”
How long ago that end-of-summer picnic seems now, with two Fabcasters having gotten hitched since then and, from the looks of it, a third one about to (hello, Tony, haha!).
The singular sensation of singularity (in my case, more like permanent, choz)--come laugh and learn with us!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Anton Juan directs Information for Foreigners
In celebration of its Centennial year, the Department of English and Comparative Literature of the University of the Philippines-Diliman is staging Griselda Gambaro’s “Information for Foreigners,” under the direction of Anton Juan Jr.
Griselda Gambaro is one of the most distinguished writers of contemporary Argentina. Her play "Information for Foreigners” uses the participatory element of interactive theater to depict a world totally slipped from its moorings, in which murder, torture and execution seem part of the horizon of everyday life. The play enables its audience to interact with the performance as it adopts the role of a “tourist” in a carnival of mystery and the macabre.
Under the direction of internationally renowned Dr. Anton Juan Jr., the play features actors Ian Lomongo, Uleb Nieto, Peter Serrano, Carlo Pacolor Garcia, Rico del Rosario, Pat Valera, Paul Jake Paule and former ambassador Jimmy Yambao, among others, along with student participants of a series of theater workshops conducted by Anton Juan.
Assistant direction and dramaturgy by Pat Valera, sound design by Jethro Joaquin, technical direction by Ohm David, lights design by Meliton Roxas and costume design by Lhenvil Paneda.
The play runs September 20-26, 2010, 7 p.m. at the College of Arts and Letters Building, UP-Diliman.
For details and inquiries, call Karen 0927-5541854 or the DECL office 926-3496.
Monday, September 06, 2010
Two Filipino classics, transposed to the key of youth
Philippine Daily Inquirer, 09.06.2010
Tanghalang Pilipino’s “Banaag at Sikat” still needs ripening; Tanghalang Ateneo’s “Walang Sugat” quickens the pulse
AH, “SPRING AWAKENING,” what have you done?
Duncan Sheik’s blockbuster Broadway musical, with its central motif of period-specific characters whipping out microphones to channel their inner rock stars in moments of overwhelming rage and confusion, appeared to have loomed large over the proceedings of Tanghalang Pilipino’s “Banaag at Sikat,” which had a recent two-week run at CCP’s Little Theater.
For starters, the production, directed by José Estrella, with music by Lucien Letaba and libretto by National Artist for Literature Bienvenido Lumbera (based on the 1906 Tagalog novel of the same name by Lope K. Santos), had the moxie to bill itself a “rock musical,” even using the black-red-white color branding that has become a visual stamp of “Spring Awakening.”
This isn’t the first time a TP production employed the same device for an original Filipino musical. Chris Millado’s “EJ: Ang Pinagdaanang Buhay nina Evelio Javier at Edgar Jopson” in 2008 also had its circa-1970s characters singing concert-style. But that production had the perfect excuse--the score was, in fact, a rearranged catalogue of radio hits by the popular rock band The Dawn.
“Banaag at Sikat” was, from the beginning, touted to be an experiment in bringing a pioneering but nearly forgotten work of Philippine literature to younger audiences through the default musical idiom of their age.
To this end, while the characters sported flouncy period costumes and the story remained rooted in its turn-of-the-century milieu, at big moments an electric guitar, a speaker and various microphones appeared, and the actors themselves transformed--if only temporarily--into the twitchy, bellowing inhabitants of a concert arena.
The experiment, it is our dispiriting duty to report, was a letdown. It was a musical, all right, with moments of captivating melody and impassioned singing by a cast of crackerjack voices (Ayen Laurel, John Arcilla and Greg de Leon were the standouts).
But the sound wasn’t rock. It was more like ’70s-flavored pop, and with a pinched, constrained vibe at that, the score lacking both aural kick and emotional gravity.
Brilliant lines
Letaba’s musical matrix of 30-odd songs inevitably felt overlong and saggy in patches, but it didn’t seem to have much to work with from the start. Lumbera, a peerless lyricist, spun brilliant lines for the songs (“Pagsasama nating bigkis ng habilin/sa isang timbanga’y laging nakabitin/tuwing ginagalaw, kahit man ng hangin/ang akala nati’y pagsapit ng dilim”). But when it came to teasing out a compelling dramatic structure from Santos’ devilishly long-winded novel, the “Banaag at Sikat” he wrote for the stage turned out to be an impressionistic blob, its force and logic diffused by the episodic, snapshot quality of the storytelling.
For a story about the rise of organized labor movement in the Philippines, the workers were, surprisingly, a mere backdrop to the domestic drama this “Banaag at Sikat” decided to busy itself with. Their oppressed status was the subject of much livid talk and a couple of set pieces, but not much else by way of insightful presentation.
Instead, the rejection by the young woman Meni of her privileged life in favor of the working-man Delfin was supposed to portend the splintering of the moneyed class. But defiant love across the social divide is an older, much more commonplace theme than the notion that its appearance in one family now heralded the birth of socialism and the decline of the “naghaharing-uri.”
Santos’ conceit--and Lumbera’s adoption of it--to yoke one to the other felt at best contrived and rather histrionic.
Which you could also say of those microphones, their spotty appearance meant to bestow a touch of modern, ironic intensity to choice musical moments, but only inviting confusion because many more songs were sung “naturally”--that is, as part of the dialogue, flowing naturally from it, and not as overt performance pieces.
Except for the cast’s spunky turns, which tended to be the show’s redeeming grace, everything about this “Banaag at Sikat”--from narrative to staging to musical DNA--was as yet unfocused and uncertain, as if needing more time and care to achieve ripeness. Perhaps, in that sense, it did serve something relatable to its young audience.
Different tack
For “Banaag at Sikat,” National Artist Salvador Bernal designed a scenery of overlapping floor-to-ceiling capiz panels that suggested the layers of propriety, custom and status one had to live with in colonial-era Filipino society.
For Tanghalang Ateneo’s “Walang Sugat,” restaged in August at Ateneo’s Irwin Theater after an initial run in February this year, Bernal took a different, more upfront tack. His set design of whimsical, pop-up, children’s-book illustrations became all of a piece with the production’s express spirit of introducing, and making palatable, the lost art of the sarsuwela to students and young people.
Though it predated the Broadway musical by nearly 50 years, and despite the variance in conventions, “Walang Sugat” (1902) can be seen as our own “Oklahoma!” (1943). Like that landmark Rodgers-and-Hammerstein work, it presents two pairs of lovers in an environment of dramatic historic and social change--the forging of the American West in “Oklahoma’s’” case, the birth of a new nation in the Severino Reyes-Fulgencio Tolentino sarsuwela.
In the story of the primary lovers--the flush of their youth; the hurdles flung their way; the optimism and promise of their eventual union--is reflected nothing less than the dawn of the dewy, newly-minted land they are betting the rest of their lives on.
When the newlyweds Curly and Laurey ride off into the prairie horizon, and when the childhood sweethearts Tenyong and Julia overcome all odds to wed on the eve of the first Philippine Republic, they carry with them “plen’y of heart and plen’y of hope”--the roots and fibers of the brand-new citizenship they are planting in the brand-new nation they are helping to build.
To contemporize this venerable material, director Ricky Abad heightened the sense of young love at its core, framing and underlining it with imagery evocative of childhood play and infatuation.
He also allowed greater levity to creep into the interactions of its secondary characters. The broad humor of Lucas, for instance (Tito Cosejo Jr. alternating with AJ Constantino), was hip and urban, and often milked for all its worth, distorting the period atmosphere of the piece. Such indulgent hijinks threatened to rob this “Walang Sugat” of heft and becoming refinement.
Engaging show
But, apart from these gauche touches, the February run was a frisky, engaging show, with glorious music supplied by a full orchestra under Chino Toledo’s baton. Whatever tentative undercurrent it had, it took its cue perhaps from its newbie lead actor, who sang robustly but acted rather stiffly.
What a difference six months can make. That tyro actor, a UP Voice student named Arman Ferrer, loosened up considerably for the August restaging, as the young man Tenyong who grows up to become a revolutionary while fighting for the love of his second cousin and sweetheart, Julia.
The greater ease and confidence he now exhibited onstage translated into beautifully ardent, dashing singing--a rich, full-bodied and resonant sound that, in tandem with the lustrous soprano of Janine Santos’ Julia (also a UP Voice student), enabled this “Walang Sugat”--hokey moments and all--to raise the flag of beauty on the Irwin Theater stage with its heartfelt, youthful romanticism.
In Tenyong’s aria “Minamahal Kita nang Tunay,” when Ferrer sang the song’s thundering peak—“Hahamakin ko’ng kamatayan, mailigtas kita lamang!”—the moment felt transportive, the sarsuwela at its most achingly expressive.
After over 100 years, and sans the trendy rock-star microphones, “Walang Sugat” still quickened the pulse. There must be a lesson in there somewhere.
[Portions of the “Walang Sugat” review first appeared in this blog, here and here. Photos 3-4 by Rhei Javier.]
Tanghalang Pilipino’s “Banaag at Sikat” still needs ripening; Tanghalang Ateneo’s “Walang Sugat” quickens the pulse
AH, “SPRING AWAKENING,” what have you done?
Duncan Sheik’s blockbuster Broadway musical, with its central motif of period-specific characters whipping out microphones to channel their inner rock stars in moments of overwhelming rage and confusion, appeared to have loomed large over the proceedings of Tanghalang Pilipino’s “Banaag at Sikat,” which had a recent two-week run at CCP’s Little Theater.
For starters, the production, directed by José Estrella, with music by Lucien Letaba and libretto by National Artist for Literature Bienvenido Lumbera (based on the 1906 Tagalog novel of the same name by Lope K. Santos), had the moxie to bill itself a “rock musical,” even using the black-red-white color branding that has become a visual stamp of “Spring Awakening.”
This isn’t the first time a TP production employed the same device for an original Filipino musical. Chris Millado’s “EJ: Ang Pinagdaanang Buhay nina Evelio Javier at Edgar Jopson” in 2008 also had its circa-1970s characters singing concert-style. But that production had the perfect excuse--the score was, in fact, a rearranged catalogue of radio hits by the popular rock band The Dawn.
“Banaag at Sikat” was, from the beginning, touted to be an experiment in bringing a pioneering but nearly forgotten work of Philippine literature to younger audiences through the default musical idiom of their age.
To this end, while the characters sported flouncy period costumes and the story remained rooted in its turn-of-the-century milieu, at big moments an electric guitar, a speaker and various microphones appeared, and the actors themselves transformed--if only temporarily--into the twitchy, bellowing inhabitants of a concert arena.
The experiment, it is our dispiriting duty to report, was a letdown. It was a musical, all right, with moments of captivating melody and impassioned singing by a cast of crackerjack voices (Ayen Laurel, John Arcilla and Greg de Leon were the standouts).
But the sound wasn’t rock. It was more like ’70s-flavored pop, and with a pinched, constrained vibe at that, the score lacking both aural kick and emotional gravity.
Brilliant lines
Letaba’s musical matrix of 30-odd songs inevitably felt overlong and saggy in patches, but it didn’t seem to have much to work with from the start. Lumbera, a peerless lyricist, spun brilliant lines for the songs (“Pagsasama nating bigkis ng habilin/sa isang timbanga’y laging nakabitin/tuwing ginagalaw, kahit man ng hangin/ang akala nati’y pagsapit ng dilim”). But when it came to teasing out a compelling dramatic structure from Santos’ devilishly long-winded novel, the “Banaag at Sikat” he wrote for the stage turned out to be an impressionistic blob, its force and logic diffused by the episodic, snapshot quality of the storytelling.
For a story about the rise of organized labor movement in the Philippines, the workers were, surprisingly, a mere backdrop to the domestic drama this “Banaag at Sikat” decided to busy itself with. Their oppressed status was the subject of much livid talk and a couple of set pieces, but not much else by way of insightful presentation.
Instead, the rejection by the young woman Meni of her privileged life in favor of the working-man Delfin was supposed to portend the splintering of the moneyed class. But defiant love across the social divide is an older, much more commonplace theme than the notion that its appearance in one family now heralded the birth of socialism and the decline of the “naghaharing-uri.”
Santos’ conceit--and Lumbera’s adoption of it--to yoke one to the other felt at best contrived and rather histrionic.
Which you could also say of those microphones, their spotty appearance meant to bestow a touch of modern, ironic intensity to choice musical moments, but only inviting confusion because many more songs were sung “naturally”--that is, as part of the dialogue, flowing naturally from it, and not as overt performance pieces.
Except for the cast’s spunky turns, which tended to be the show’s redeeming grace, everything about this “Banaag at Sikat”--from narrative to staging to musical DNA--was as yet unfocused and uncertain, as if needing more time and care to achieve ripeness. Perhaps, in that sense, it did serve something relatable to its young audience.
Different tack
For “Banaag at Sikat,” National Artist Salvador Bernal designed a scenery of overlapping floor-to-ceiling capiz panels that suggested the layers of propriety, custom and status one had to live with in colonial-era Filipino society.
For Tanghalang Ateneo’s “Walang Sugat,” restaged in August at Ateneo’s Irwin Theater after an initial run in February this year, Bernal took a different, more upfront tack. His set design of whimsical, pop-up, children’s-book illustrations became all of a piece with the production’s express spirit of introducing, and making palatable, the lost art of the sarsuwela to students and young people.
Though it predated the Broadway musical by nearly 50 years, and despite the variance in conventions, “Walang Sugat” (1902) can be seen as our own “Oklahoma!” (1943). Like that landmark Rodgers-and-Hammerstein work, it presents two pairs of lovers in an environment of dramatic historic and social change--the forging of the American West in “Oklahoma’s’” case, the birth of a new nation in the Severino Reyes-Fulgencio Tolentino sarsuwela.
In the story of the primary lovers--the flush of their youth; the hurdles flung their way; the optimism and promise of their eventual union--is reflected nothing less than the dawn of the dewy, newly-minted land they are betting the rest of their lives on.
When the newlyweds Curly and Laurey ride off into the prairie horizon, and when the childhood sweethearts Tenyong and Julia overcome all odds to wed on the eve of the first Philippine Republic, they carry with them “plen’y of heart and plen’y of hope”--the roots and fibers of the brand-new citizenship they are planting in the brand-new nation they are helping to build.
To contemporize this venerable material, director Ricky Abad heightened the sense of young love at its core, framing and underlining it with imagery evocative of childhood play and infatuation.
He also allowed greater levity to creep into the interactions of its secondary characters. The broad humor of Lucas, for instance (Tito Cosejo Jr. alternating with AJ Constantino), was hip and urban, and often milked for all its worth, distorting the period atmosphere of the piece. Such indulgent hijinks threatened to rob this “Walang Sugat” of heft and becoming refinement.
Engaging show
But, apart from these gauche touches, the February run was a frisky, engaging show, with glorious music supplied by a full orchestra under Chino Toledo’s baton. Whatever tentative undercurrent it had, it took its cue perhaps from its newbie lead actor, who sang robustly but acted rather stiffly.
What a difference six months can make. That tyro actor, a UP Voice student named Arman Ferrer, loosened up considerably for the August restaging, as the young man Tenyong who grows up to become a revolutionary while fighting for the love of his second cousin and sweetheart, Julia.
The greater ease and confidence he now exhibited onstage translated into beautifully ardent, dashing singing--a rich, full-bodied and resonant sound that, in tandem with the lustrous soprano of Janine Santos’ Julia (also a UP Voice student), enabled this “Walang Sugat”--hokey moments and all--to raise the flag of beauty on the Irwin Theater stage with its heartfelt, youthful romanticism.
In Tenyong’s aria “Minamahal Kita nang Tunay,” when Ferrer sang the song’s thundering peak—“Hahamakin ko’ng kamatayan, mailigtas kita lamang!”—the moment felt transportive, the sarsuwela at its most achingly expressive.
After over 100 years, and sans the trendy rock-star microphones, “Walang Sugat” still quickened the pulse. There must be a lesson in there somewhere.
[Portions of the “Walang Sugat” review first appeared in this blog, here and here. Photos 3-4 by Rhei Javier.]
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Ateneo-Entablado's Pilandok, a People Power-inspired play
Entablado, the socio-political student-theater organization of the Ateneo de Manila University, opens its 28th season with Christine Bellen's “Si Pilandok at Ang Bayan ng Bulawan.”
The play runs Sept. 10 (8 p.m.) and Sept. 11 (3 p.m. and 7 p.m.) at the Meralco Theater, Ortigas.
Inspired by the historical EDSA 1 People Power Revolution, the play uses a “kuwentong bayan” framework to inspire unity geared towards nation-building among its audience.
Pilandok, the trickster of Bayan ng Bulawan, tries to retrieve the bright star Bulawan from the clutches of the corrupt Datu Usman and evil henchman Orochimaru. Pilandok seeks help from other villages; however the individual efforts of conflicting heroes Pantas (Wisdom), Banal (Faith), Yumi (Beauty), Gara (Wealth) and Lakas (Strength) are in vain.
When Pilandok finally confronts Datu Usman alone, the other villages join in to reclaim the bright star Bulawan.
Bellen is known for her retelling of the Lola Basyang children's stories, and is the author of the children's plays “Batang Rizal” and “Ang Unang Baboy sa Langit.”
Dr. Jerry Respeto, known for directing and translating plays for PETA and DUP, directs, together with Ateneo professor Jethro Tenorio. Tuxqs Rotaquio of DUP designs the set and costumes, while Dr. Christine Muyco, UP Music professor, and Jema Pamintuan, Ateneo professor, collaborated on the music.
"We wanted to show that the story of EDSA 1986 was the story of all Filipinos. It wasn't only for us who went to the streets to topple a dictatorship, it was also for the succeeding generations," Bellen says. "That is why we used the folklore format to show that what happened in 1986 is for all ages."
"Pilandok is a popular folk tale from the South. The hero tries to outwit the datu who is unjust to his people. We used him to symbolize that people can also 'play tricks' on their leaders who steal from them. This was a clear manifestation in EDSA 1."
Respeto and Tenorio fuse the traditional and the modern to allow the play to reach out to the youth.
"The dances are a mix of Asian and modern; conversations use the 'old' Filipino poetics and popular Taglish," says Tenorio.
The play calls on everyone, young and old, to take part in creating a nation immersed in solidarity, trust and integrity, and inspired by People Power and the life and death Ninoy and Cory Aquino.
Proceeds from the play will go to the NCA Youth Leadership and Formation Program of the Ninoy and Cory Aquino Foundation. For inquiries, contact Mika Millar 0917-5536261 and 8925360.
[Photos: Oliver Oliveros]
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Tanghalang Ateneo's Walang Sugat--musical highlights on video, part 2
[Part 1 here.]
Though it predated the Broadway musical by nearly 50 years, I'd like to think of Walang Sugat (1902) as our own Oklahoma! (1943). Like that landmark Rodgers and Hammerstein work, Walang Sugat presents two pairs of lovers in an environment of dramatic historic and social change--the forging of the American West in Oklahoma's case, the birth of a new nation in the Severino Reyes-Fulgencio Tolentino sarsuwela.
In the story of the primary lovers--the flush of their youth, the challenges hurled their way, the optimism and promise of their eventual union--is reflected nothing less than the dawn of the dewy, newly-minted land they have fought so hard and bled so much for. When the newlyweds Curly and Laurey ride off into the vast expanse of the prairie, and when the childhood sweethearts Tenyong and Julia overcome all odds to wed on the eve of the first Philippine Republic, they carry with them “Plen'y of heart and plen'y of hope”--the roots and fibers of the brand-new citizenship they are planting in the brand-new nation they are helping to build.
The continuation of Walang Sugat's video clips below:
1. Minamahal Kita nang Tunay. It's been a year since Tenyong left for the war front. Julia is being forced by her mother to marry Miguel, the parish priest's wealthy nephew. In desperation, she sends a letter to Tenyong, begging him to return. Tenyong learns not only that Julia has been betrothed to Miguel, but that his mother has died in his absence. He sinks to his knees in grief and prayer. (I call this Arman Ferrer/Tenyong's Bring Him Home moment.) In a larger sense, of course, the Julia that Tenyong vows to rescue is the motherland whose honor he has offered his life to defend. When Ferrer gathers strength to sing the song's thundering peak--“Hahamakin ko'ng kamatayan, mailigtas kita lamang!”--it's a transcendent moment, the sarsuwela at its most heart-achingly expressive.
2. Ako'y Lubayan/Paalam. Tenyong's brigade attacks a Spanish detachment, and the young man is mortally wounded. Hearing of his death, Julia accepts her fate and agrees to wed Miguel. On their wedding day, Tenyong is brought in--not dead but dying, in blood-stained bandages. Julia reaffirms her devotion to him, and the lovers sing their farewell song. (The voice overheard on the video uttering, “Ang ganda!,” by the way, is director-playwright Floy Quintos, who was seated beside me, and like me was completely enthralled by Janine Santos' impassioned singing.)
3. Walang Sugat/Finale. Near-death, Tenyong makes his last confession, and an unusual last request: that, before he dies, he and Julia be wed. After all, Julia would be a widow so soon after, free again to marry Miguel. Both Miguel's side and Julia's mother agree. The priest pronounces the couple man and wife. The general then bids Tenyong to rise. He does--removing his bandages to reveal he's actually unscathed. (“Walang sugat!”) Tenyong and Julia are reunited, and in the final frame, dressed in the colors of the new nation rising from the revolution going on around them, the couple and their friends sing of a fervent dream--and a promise: “Aking adhika, makita kang sakdal laya!” Blackout.
(Those two kids in front--they're Tenyong and Julia as kids, appearing first in the overture and then at various moments in the play, framing and underscoring the sarsuwela's youthful romance and happily-ever-after quality.)
PLUS: In the video below, Ferrer is shown rehearsing his aria Minamahal Kita nang Tunay--voice already a stunner, singing still perfunctory. More interestingly, the clip shows that director Ricky Abad originally envisioned the musical number to be a “memory moment,” with the kiddie Tenyong and Julia appearing at one point in the song (those two actors seemingly horsing around in the interlude), and the grown-up Julia herself locking arms with Tenyong for a brief dance near the end. Good thing Mr. Abad eventually scrapped this embellishment, trusting the song enough to let it work without frills.
Though it predated the Broadway musical by nearly 50 years, I'd like to think of Walang Sugat (1902) as our own Oklahoma! (1943). Like that landmark Rodgers and Hammerstein work, Walang Sugat presents two pairs of lovers in an environment of dramatic historic and social change--the forging of the American West in Oklahoma's case, the birth of a new nation in the Severino Reyes-Fulgencio Tolentino sarsuwela.
In the story of the primary lovers--the flush of their youth, the challenges hurled their way, the optimism and promise of their eventual union--is reflected nothing less than the dawn of the dewy, newly-minted land they have fought so hard and bled so much for. When the newlyweds Curly and Laurey ride off into the vast expanse of the prairie, and when the childhood sweethearts Tenyong and Julia overcome all odds to wed on the eve of the first Philippine Republic, they carry with them “Plen'y of heart and plen'y of hope”--the roots and fibers of the brand-new citizenship they are planting in the brand-new nation they are helping to build.
The continuation of Walang Sugat's video clips below:
1. Minamahal Kita nang Tunay. It's been a year since Tenyong left for the war front. Julia is being forced by her mother to marry Miguel, the parish priest's wealthy nephew. In desperation, she sends a letter to Tenyong, begging him to return. Tenyong learns not only that Julia has been betrothed to Miguel, but that his mother has died in his absence. He sinks to his knees in grief and prayer. (I call this Arman Ferrer/Tenyong's Bring Him Home moment.) In a larger sense, of course, the Julia that Tenyong vows to rescue is the motherland whose honor he has offered his life to defend. When Ferrer gathers strength to sing the song's thundering peak--“Hahamakin ko'ng kamatayan, mailigtas kita lamang!”--it's a transcendent moment, the sarsuwela at its most heart-achingly expressive.
2. Ako'y Lubayan/Paalam. Tenyong's brigade attacks a Spanish detachment, and the young man is mortally wounded. Hearing of his death, Julia accepts her fate and agrees to wed Miguel. On their wedding day, Tenyong is brought in--not dead but dying, in blood-stained bandages. Julia reaffirms her devotion to him, and the lovers sing their farewell song. (The voice overheard on the video uttering, “Ang ganda!,” by the way, is director-playwright Floy Quintos, who was seated beside me, and like me was completely enthralled by Janine Santos' impassioned singing.)
3. Walang Sugat/Finale. Near-death, Tenyong makes his last confession, and an unusual last request: that, before he dies, he and Julia be wed. After all, Julia would be a widow so soon after, free again to marry Miguel. Both Miguel's side and Julia's mother agree. The priest pronounces the couple man and wife. The general then bids Tenyong to rise. He does--removing his bandages to reveal he's actually unscathed. (“Walang sugat!”) Tenyong and Julia are reunited, and in the final frame, dressed in the colors of the new nation rising from the revolution going on around them, the couple and their friends sing of a fervent dream--and a promise: “Aking adhika, makita kang sakdal laya!” Blackout.
(Those two kids in front--they're Tenyong and Julia as kids, appearing first in the overture and then at various moments in the play, framing and underscoring the sarsuwela's youthful romance and happily-ever-after quality.)
PLUS: In the video below, Ferrer is shown rehearsing his aria Minamahal Kita nang Tunay--voice already a stunner, singing still perfunctory. More interestingly, the clip shows that director Ricky Abad originally envisioned the musical number to be a “memory moment,” with the kiddie Tenyong and Julia appearing at one point in the song (those two actors seemingly horsing around in the interlude), and the grown-up Julia herself locking arms with Tenyong for a brief dance near the end. Good thing Mr. Abad eventually scrapped this embellishment, trusting the song enough to let it work without frills.
And just like that, I was out.
[Note: Like CC, I forgot to sign up, too, for this collective blogging event. But I'd like to pitch in, anyway, by reposting my own story.]
--------------------------------------
[To the TODAY editors, June 1995]: Thank you for publishing the incredibly homophobic, galactically stupid letter of one Cris Villahermosa II expressing the “waves of loathing and revulsion” he felt over Gerard Ramos' apparent penchant for what's “in between Mel Gibson's legs.” Allow me to answer him in kind.
Dear Mr. Villahermosa: Hey, asshole, nice phrase, but you can't imagine the waves of loathing and revulsion that equally hit me as I read your letter.
Not only are you an ignorant, narrow-minded dope; your values are also screwed up pretty bad. You can't believe there are respectable gays? Why, this may shock you and shatter your self-righteous “straight” sensibilities, but my friends and I happen to be gay and are living full, happy and self-respecting lives. Far more happy and secure, I bet, than the miserably prejudiced, hate-filled existence you are barely able to hack on this planet.
Most of us are no better or worse than straight people--we pay our taxes, we work hard, we nurture our families and children--but at least no gay I've met so far has ever wished on anybody the unspeakable fate of the Holocaust victims. You have, and my oh my, you tell us you're a “normal” guy?
Honey, we're no sickos. You are.
And since you seem to wax orgasmic at the thought of Hitler butchering homosexuals and other “inferior” races, tell me, how do you think you would have fared under him? Ha, I'd love to see how your dear old Adolf would've treated a flat-nosed, brown-skinned, pudgy little non-Aryan like you!
No, Mr. Villahermosa, we're not about to take any more shit from you or from anybody else about us. By the way, my gay AND straight friends and I are curious: why the “revulsion” at the thing between Mel Gibson's legs? You sound as if it's so alien to you. Were you born without it?
GILBERT H. CADIZ, Makati City
The letter got published a day after I faxed it to the paper.
And just like that, I was out--never to return to that horrid closet. If you'd like to hear the story of what led me, at 25 years old, to finally kick the door open and write this enraged letter, tune in to Part 1 of our new Troika podcast. Migs and McVie also share their own “volt-out” stories.
Part 2 has more of our thoughts on coming out, e.g., dealing with hostile family and friends, doing it the “strategic” way, why come out at all, reconciling gayness and faith, etc. For levity's sake, I couldn't help injecting into the mix these two coming-out anecdotes (tell me which generation you belong to):
Scenario 1
Son: “'Nay, bakla po ako.”
Mom: (Crying) “Kasi naman ikaw, anak, di ka nagsisimba!”
Scenario 2
Son: “'Nay, bading po ako.”
Mom: “Hmmp, nakikiuso ka lang.”
--------------------------------------
[To the TODAY editors, June 1995]: Thank you for publishing the incredibly homophobic, galactically stupid letter of one Cris Villahermosa II expressing the “waves of loathing and revulsion” he felt over Gerard Ramos' apparent penchant for what's “in between Mel Gibson's legs.” Allow me to answer him in kind.
Dear Mr. Villahermosa: Hey, asshole, nice phrase, but you can't imagine the waves of loathing and revulsion that equally hit me as I read your letter.
Not only are you an ignorant, narrow-minded dope; your values are also screwed up pretty bad. You can't believe there are respectable gays? Why, this may shock you and shatter your self-righteous “straight” sensibilities, but my friends and I happen to be gay and are living full, happy and self-respecting lives. Far more happy and secure, I bet, than the miserably prejudiced, hate-filled existence you are barely able to hack on this planet.
Most of us are no better or worse than straight people--we pay our taxes, we work hard, we nurture our families and children--but at least no gay I've met so far has ever wished on anybody the unspeakable fate of the Holocaust victims. You have, and my oh my, you tell us you're a “normal” guy?
Honey, we're no sickos. You are.
And since you seem to wax orgasmic at the thought of Hitler butchering homosexuals and other “inferior” races, tell me, how do you think you would have fared under him? Ha, I'd love to see how your dear old Adolf would've treated a flat-nosed, brown-skinned, pudgy little non-Aryan like you!
No, Mr. Villahermosa, we're not about to take any more shit from you or from anybody else about us. By the way, my gay AND straight friends and I are curious: why the “revulsion” at the thing between Mel Gibson's legs? You sound as if it's so alien to you. Were you born without it?
GILBERT H. CADIZ, Makati City
The letter got published a day after I faxed it to the paper.
And just like that, I was out--never to return to that horrid closet. If you'd like to hear the story of what led me, at 25 years old, to finally kick the door open and write this enraged letter, tune in to Part 1 of our new Troika podcast. Migs and McVie also share their own “volt-out” stories.
Part 2 has more of our thoughts on coming out, e.g., dealing with hostile family and friends, doing it the “strategic” way, why come out at all, reconciling gayness and faith, etc. For levity's sake, I couldn't help injecting into the mix these two coming-out anecdotes (tell me which generation you belong to):
Scenario 1
Son: “'Nay, bakla po ako.”
Mom: (Crying) “Kasi naman ikaw, anak, di ka nagsisimba!”
Scenario 2
Son: “'Nay, bading po ako.”
Mom: “Hmmp, nakikiuso ka lang.”
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
FEU Art Theatre Clinique stages de La Barca’s Life is a Dream
The Far Eastern University Art Theatre Clinique stages Pedro Calderon De La Barca’s "Life is a Dream," with English translation by Gwynne Edwards and direction by Joey Ting, on September 23-24, 2010, 2 p.m. and 6 p.m., at the FEU Auditorium. Admission is free.
The play examines the lives of royal personalities set in 1635 Spain. The cast includes established theater actors Mark Aspiras, Yong Tapang, Boy Villahermosa and ABS-CBN dubbing director Neil Tolentino, as well as young student-artists from FEU such as Anthony Angulo, Jal Galang, Kevin Javier, Aldrin Carreon, Dos Imperial, Cedrick Juan, Jovie Oalin, Claudine Dagandan, Benzi Robledo, Giane Sales, Abdul Taiting, Orville Taleon and Jenzi Zarate with Lance Advincula, Dennis Agas, Jam Apostol, JP Callorina, Starly Elgincolin, Mira Enriquez, Kyle Feria, Ishq Gayo, Jerome Gozum, Kelvin Guzman, Alfred Jacildone, Bernice Legaspi, Raymond Manglo, Anthony Marquez, Miguel Palomo, JC Pineda, Kestrel Quiambao, Philip Quintos, Gion Santiago, Rain Sarol, Mark Sese, Rebbie Umlas and Adriane Ungriano.
The artistic team includes Ohm David (set), Meliton Roxas (lights) and Ian De Ausen (dance-movement), along with FEU's homegrown talents Danny Mandia (creative supervision), Gene Pamittan (production supervision), Joeven Castro (diction coach), Bryan Aquino (music and lyrics), Bianca Escorpizo (costume design), Rain Sarol (associate in dance-movement), Aldrin Carreon and Candy Gaspar (dramaturgy and playwriting) and Abdul Taiting (poster design).
For ticket reservations and inquiries, please call 0917-7577279 (Tristan Crisostomo) or 0916-3724522 (Monina Altamirano).
The play examines the lives of royal personalities set in 1635 Spain. The cast includes established theater actors Mark Aspiras, Yong Tapang, Boy Villahermosa and ABS-CBN dubbing director Neil Tolentino, as well as young student-artists from FEU such as Anthony Angulo, Jal Galang, Kevin Javier, Aldrin Carreon, Dos Imperial, Cedrick Juan, Jovie Oalin, Claudine Dagandan, Benzi Robledo, Giane Sales, Abdul Taiting, Orville Taleon and Jenzi Zarate with Lance Advincula, Dennis Agas, Jam Apostol, JP Callorina, Starly Elgincolin, Mira Enriquez, Kyle Feria, Ishq Gayo, Jerome Gozum, Kelvin Guzman, Alfred Jacildone, Bernice Legaspi, Raymond Manglo, Anthony Marquez, Miguel Palomo, JC Pineda, Kestrel Quiambao, Philip Quintos, Gion Santiago, Rain Sarol, Mark Sese, Rebbie Umlas and Adriane Ungriano.
The artistic team includes Ohm David (set), Meliton Roxas (lights) and Ian De Ausen (dance-movement), along with FEU's homegrown talents Danny Mandia (creative supervision), Gene Pamittan (production supervision), Joeven Castro (diction coach), Bryan Aquino (music and lyrics), Bianca Escorpizo (costume design), Rain Sarol (associate in dance-movement), Aldrin Carreon and Candy Gaspar (dramaturgy and playwriting) and Abdul Taiting (poster design).
For ticket reservations and inquiries, please call 0917-7577279 (Tristan Crisostomo) or 0916-3724522 (Monina Altamirano).
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