A musical to be proud of

If I could really do one thing for the warring political forces in this country, I would round them all up – PGMA, the opposition, the right, the left and the center – and whisk them off to the Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero Theater in UP Diliman. I would make them sit down and watch Dulaang UP’s inspired production of St. Louis Loves Dem Filipinos... The Musical. For one moment, I hope it moves all politicians to ponder the plight of ordinary Filipinos who choose to go on with their lives and assert their humanity in a period when all seems lost and hopeless. And when they rise in ovation at the end of the show (as the audiences did during the past seven shows this week), then for a moment at least, there will be consensus and unity.

I’m not being trite. I am being entirely truthful. St. Louis Loves Dem Filipinos is one of the most moving theater productions I have seen in a long time. It comes at a time when we need to be moved about our history and our people. But don’t let that mislead you into thinking this is one of those heavy "message" plays. St. Louis Loves Dem Filipinos is also great entertainment, an "epic saga" (to use movie parlance) that moves from the 1904 Manila to the wilds of Davao to the fairgrounds of the exposition, to the depression years in America’s dustbowls.

The original production, which I remember seeing in 1992, was a straight play that starred Joel Lamangan, Ronnie Lazaro, Mario O’ Hara, and the late greats, Rolando Tinio and Ishmael Bernal. Back then, the play was a heavy political statement on the infamous St. Louis World Exposition in 1904, where tribal Filipinos – "dog-eating savages" they were called – were exhibited by the American government in the hope of crushing our independence. The story centers on Datu Bulan, a Bagobo chieftain who goes to the fair in the simple hope of doing "something great" in America. But it’s the reversal of the great American dream for Bulan, who finds himself slowly being dehumanized and marginalized in the land of milk and honey. Back then, it was already very moving stuff.

But Floy Quintos, a playwright and a dear friend from my MET days, had other plans for his text. More than a decade after the world premiere, he rounded up his constant collaborators, Tonton Africa to do the music, and Alex Cortez to do the direction. The result is a surprise, which may upset some purists. For here is a Filipino musical written mainly in English. Out of the 20 tunes in the show, only two are in Filipino. The rest are in English, and logically so, as Bulan moves through the America of the 1920s and ‘30s. Floy, who wrote both the book and the libretto, knew it would work. "After all," he says, "we Filipinos are great at picking up languages. I thought it would be more believable for Bulan and the other characters to learn to speak English, than for the American characters to speak in Filipino."

For some, this may be the main stumbling block of the play. But it is what jolts the audience into realizing this isn’t just another Filipino musical, but a musical about Filipinos moving in the world. And it works, what with the memorable music of Tonton Africa, whose score is a richly-textured mix that shifts from Ethnic, to Ragtime to Jazz to the Blues to Broadway. There are several great numbers in the show. And when I mean great, they are the types you find yourself humming into as you leave the theater.

There’s Pusong Naglalakbay, which Floy, Alex and Tonton jokingly refer to as the "carrier single" of the show. There’s Hold Your Head High, Bulan’s showstopper. The rousing opening number, which introduces the main characters of the play is 1904. The play’s narrator, Fred, a Fil-American in search of his roots, has his own showstopper, If You Could Change. The Act II Finale, From This Day On, is so moving the audience doesn’t wait for the lights to black out before they begin applauding. And Googoo Monkey, Come Out and Play is a savage and violent musical recounting of racism. I only wish Dulaang UP had the funds for live accompaniment for here is a score that cries out for an orchestra. Perhaps, a future production (at the CCP, maybe?) will give the score the treatment it deserves.

Still, Dulaang UP is known for making magic out of what little it has. And as director Alex Cortez puts it, "It is the magic of the actors that really makes the play work."

I am very proud of Arnold Reyes, who essays the part of Bulan. I’ve seen Arnold grow from a fledgling pop singer into an accomplished actor and performer. But even I wondered if Arnold had what it takes to carry an entire show. The good news is he does! His performance is totally authentic, and as Bulan ages from proud prince to alcoholic bum, Arnold proves he has the range and technique of a mature actor. Even when singing in English, he does not once lose his character. He plays Bulan as a barve fool, forging on in a dream of greatness he does not once lose faith in. I hear that his alternate, Miguel Castro, is equally good. Both actors surely have different interpretations.

To their credit, the other leads are equally interesting to watch. Leo Rialp, who seems to be spending more time acting than directing these days, is a touching, fumbling Gustavo Niederlein, a sympathetic anthropologist who befriends Bulan. The story unfolds through the eyes of Fred Tinawid, played engagingly by Jake Macapagal. Ron Capinding, as Fred’s oldtimer grandfather, delivers one of the most poignant characterizations in the play. Richard Cunanan, Philippine Theater’s resident American bad guy, plays the infamous Dean C. Worcester as a charming Machiavelli. Mean Valentin, as Momayon, Bulan’s gentle wife, is a find. And soprano Rina Saporsantos plays the fat, lonely circus lady Maude with what I can only call a "tender vulgarity." The audience’s favorite was the lovable, shrewd Igorot clown, Antonio, played by Raffy Tejada, who almost runs away with the show.

Near the end of the play, which runs a little over two hours (where else but in theater is that still acceptable to audiences?), these characters, now all ghosts from times past, gather to face a now aged, decrepit Bulan. It is only then that I realized the scope of this musical, and the entire point of the play. Like Bulan, we Filipinos have survived it all, with only the shreds of our dignity intact. What we do with those shreds, and how we constantly rebuild ourselves, is what saves us as a people. Bulan, wrote Floy and Alex in their program notes, "is indeed our Filipino everyman."

And as the entire cast gathered to reprise Hold Your Head High, I found myself, like so many others in the audience, weeping.

Was I weeping for our sorry state of affairs? No. These were tears of hope. If St. Louis Loves Dem Filipinos does anything at all for the audience, it shows us how resilient we are and what great survivors we can be.

See St. Louis Loves Dem Filipinos, which runs from Wednesday to Sunday this week and next. You will be moved. And in these times when there seems so little to be proud of in our country, you will be proud.