The virgin soul laid bare
It’s a collective catharsis which happens at the theater when the play is so powerful, and the actors convey the deepest thoughts and feelings so truthfully that there is a shared vulnerability, laying bare what it means to be human. At Virgin Labfest XXI, aptly titled Hubo’t Hubad, which just finished its first week in a four-week run, there were profound moments like this in many of the new one-act plays presented.
One that hit really hard was Elehiya with its razor-sharp script by Dustin Celestino and elegant staging by Ron Capinding, who directs a stellar cast. Sets by Mark Lorenz spell fascist patriarchy, an arena for the psychological sparring between fathers and sons, announced by Yan Yuzon as Lalaki, who declares this to be an all-male affair and as such, the blows are silent in the tradition of the Filipino male’s reticence in showing emotion. Ed (John Sanchez) grapples with anxiety and reaches out to his authoritarian father (Dennis Marasigan) to assuage his guilt over past violent acts, but is met with a façade as cold as the stone backdrop that surrounds them. The non-communication is just as fraught between Carlos Siguion Reyna’s Nick and his son Kulas, played by real-life son Rafa Siguion Reyna, whose feelings are only expressed through a shrink. Done in Celestino’s signature impressionistic montage of conversations, which is punctuated by Yuzon’s sweeping grand finale of a monologue, this play is totally absorbing from start to finish, a virtual opera in one act where the tragedy of missed chances and words that should have been spoken is totally devastating.
In the same Set C, She’s Electric by Ron Evangelista is another exploration of toxic masculinity but in the form of satire as long-time womanizer Robert (Josh Cabiladas) invites his gang to meet a new girlfriend, Rose (Glaiza De Castro), a newly purchased android who ticks all the right boxes, leading to disbelief, amusement and ultimately censure, particularly from Stacy (Yesh Burce) who questions his attitudes toward the opposite sex. In his elusive search for the perfect relationship that he thought he had found through the simulation of “genuine” feelings, Robert discovers that this may not be so, in a surprising twist. Aside from its novel concept, this comic tragedy has hilarious punchlines that land well thanks to the skill of the actors and the direction of JP Habac.
Diversity reigns in Set B. Haram by Alab Usman is a rare glimpse into the lives of queer Muslims, bringing to light themes of discrimination and morality in a stylish staging by director Mark Daniel Dalacat, who also executed the production design. Lualhati by Gab Mactal adds spiritual questions to the equation when a former nun, now philosophy professor Jacinta (Angel Aquino), returns to the convent for a wake, where she sees Lualhati (Jackie Lou Blanco), reopening past wounds from 20 years ago when they fell in love as novices (Iana Bernardez and Bea Garcia-Choy). With sensitive portrayals and beautiful language, the story of the couple is one you naturally invest in. The direction by Paula Marasigan also keeps it interesting and dynamic, with all four of them interacting onstage.
Set A has a decidedly political bent. Password 123, Pilipinas 321 by Anthony Kim Vergara, exposes shenanigans in an underground cyberspace operation disguised as a legitimate technical support center managed by Bert (Noel Rayos) who shows the new owner Andre (Gio Gahol) their capabilities ahead of the arrival of a government client (Gie Onida) with requirements of the illegal sort, prompting new recruit Nix (Earvin Estioco) to confront difficult questions. With streamlined sets by Io Balanon and direction by Norbs Portales, you get right into the action in this riveting piece.
Mental health issues surface in Set D’s Footprints by Jerom Canlas, for whom this is a very personal story. His brother Elijah Canlas plays Rap, who cannot get over the death of Ram (Omar Uddin), a brother who took his own life, prompting their grieving family to search for all possible clues in digital traces that he left behind, mapped in multi-frame videos by Justin Santiago in tandem with Carlos Siongco’s sleek set design of an electronic library. You can feel the pain of each discovery in Elijah’s moving performance while Jojo Cayabyab’s Rick channels all the numbing heartbreak of a father’s loss. Uddin’s moment onstage is brief but gripping, as he recites his words of goodbye. Nothing was over-the-top, though as director Mikko Angeles handled the highly sensitive material with restraint.
Just as you recover from all that comes, John Lapus’s Taksyapo, which is the Kapampangan expression used to release anger and is also the name of a rage booth discovered by JM (Christian Bables), a middle-aged gay man who is still seething from the betrayal of his lover. He finds a kindred spirit in Maya (Mosang) as they share frustrations while smashing plates. Of course, Lapus’ script is as funny as his stand-up acts, and it’s a laugh a minute between the two, who have amazing chemistry. Their snappy repartee is perfectly orchestrated by director and production designer Tuxqs Rutaquio, who found a clever way to devise the mechanics for the Taksyapo booth. The play was much-needed comic relief after the serious themes, and just as we can all be vulnerable together in tragedy, so can we be in comedy, disarming us as we realize our flaws, laugh at our mistakes, and celebrate our humanity.
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VLF XXI will run at the Tanghalang Ignacio Gimenez (CCP Black Box) until June 28. Follow @thevirginlabfest @tanghalang.pilipino @culturalcenterph.
