Oh, the things you find in Facebook!
Not long ago, I found myself in the midst of some interesting online conversation with very passionate local theater folks about the state of lighting design in our country (I didn’t join in until late, so there might have been a few things deleted before I got there). There was discussion, there was arguing, there were valid points on both sides being defended. One early comment (although deleted, a screen shot had been preserved) said something like, “When I [watch] theater shows in the Philippines, I lower my expectations.”
Colonial mentality?
You can imagine how that statement, regardless of context and eventual explanation, can make the blood of our theater people boil.
What does “lowering expectations” mean, anyway? Does it mean expecting a show with lackluster production elements (poorly made costumes, monochromatic lighting states, bad microphones)? Does it mean expecting the actors to be poorly trained or expressionless? Does it mean expecting musicians who can’t play to save their lives? Was that comment-writer a victim of colonial mentality?
As someone who goes to see shows wherever and whenever I am able, I’m happy to say there are productions in our country that, in my humble opinion, surpass the quality of what I get to see abroad in every single technical and artistic way, upping the ante of—in the case of a local production of a Broadway show—its foreign predecessor. Local productions also bring forth something wonderful and unique, eliciting raucous laughter and copious tears from the audience. The standing ovations for those productions are well-deserved.
Sad, sad thing
So … back to my point about colonial mentality. The sad thing about it is, local audiences tend to flock to the foreign tours of renowned productions that originated in either the West End or Broadway: “Mamma Mia,” “The Phantom of the Opera,” even “Cats.” A lady interviewed after one of these shows stated in fractured English that she watched only foreign productions, not local ones.
As an actor who began her career on these shores and continues to do productions locally (and with pride, may I add, in the high quality of these shows), that comment makes me both sad and angry. Hoy, ale, sino ka ba, at bigla kang nagkaroon ng karapatang laitin ang mga lokal na palabas?
I’ll admit, we don’t have the multimillion-dollar budgets that many foreign productions are able to raise, so we don’t have the most opulent set pieces and costumes. Nor can we always afford large-scale LED screens, the most sophisticated sound systems or intelligent lights. But there’s something we do have that we can boast of: the artists.
Yes, our artists on and off the stage. I’ve seen costumes made out of flood-ravaged clothing and set pieces from painted recycled plywood. I’ve seen actors carry on in the midst of a rolling brownout, not one of them stopping their singing even once. Our lighting designers often have to work with what’s available, and still are able to create something amazing.
Best example
Last weekend, I caught Resorts World’s production of “The King and I.” The actors on stage were for the most part great (Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo and Nonie Buencamino were wonderful as Anna and The King respectively, and a special mention to Gina Respall for her incredible portrayal of Lady Thiang).
The Rajo Laurel costumes were some of the most opulent pieces ever created for the Philippine stage—not to mention those incredible sets, plus the baby white elephant that enthralled my daughter. I still hold issue with the sound state (it’s the theater … I’ve played in concert at that venue and we had issues then, too) and the Manila Philharmonic Orchestra didn’t sound as full as it looked, at times seeming more synthesized than acoustic.
For all its opulence and splendor, however, the best example of great theater, for me, took place in the show within the show, with the presentation of “Small House of Uncle Thomas” by the Philippine Ballet Theater. That sublime, timeless Jerome Robbins choreography, such simple effects as paper confetti and streamers, three men on their hands and knees to make a mountain for Eliza to climb, a white sheet for the river, cloud cutouts and emotionally connected performers … it goes to show that for great theater to happen, all it takes is commitment from everyone on board.
It’s not about opulence, not about money. It’s not about the greatest technology. All these things help, but at the heart of it all, theater is about people coming together united for only one purpose—to tell a story and transport the audience to another world.
My expectations for this are set very high … and in this country, they are always, always met.