Dance in a constellation of possibilities

Last year a widely admired celebrity passed away and someone equally famous and respected said something along the lines of, “In a parallel universe, he is alive and smiling.” It was the least consoling sentence I heard about death.

The multiverse theory, however, has its share of believers, if not “considerers.” Those with big imaginations (fictionists) lap it up. It is easy to divine its appeal: This life sucks. I regret doing that. If only I could turn… If there is another reality in which life isn’t so bad and I make the right decisions, then maybe I shouldn’t beat myself up.

But reality — this time-bound, linear one, save for the vivid dreams and occasional déja vu, where we burn our skin when we play with fire and it hurts like hell — has a way of imposing itself. For now, as ordinary human beings, this universe is all we can care about.

Constellations by Nick Payne. Kindle edition.

A recent and so far successful (based on its glowing reviews) piece of literature that explores the nature of a multiverse is Nick Payne’s drama, Constellations. The play, which follows the story of Roland and Marianne, had its world premiere in 2011 in London and it returned in 2015 on West End and on Broadway (where Jake Gyllenhaal and Ruth Wilson made their theater debut). In February, the play is arriving to our shores courtesy of Red Turnip Theater.

It’s another boy-meets-girl tale, only we see the couple dance in a constellation of possibilities — realities? Payne’s storytelling is also its own thesis as it mimics how Roland and Marianne’s encounters may play out in parallel universes. Sporadically, Payne even explains the time lapses and loops through Marianne.

MARIANNE: Despite our best efforts, there are certain microscopic observations that just cannot be predicted absolutely. Now, potentially, one way of explaining this is to draw the conclusion that, at any given moment, several outcomes can co-exist simultaneously.

* * *

MARIANNE: So you’ve these two theories that are completely at odds with one another. Relativity covers the sun, the moon, the stars, while quantum mechanics takes care of molecules, quarks, atoms — that sort of thing. We’ve effectively asked the same question twice and come up with two completely different answers.

ROLAND: This is really sexy by the way.

For all the intrigue it inspires and the few laughs it draws out, reading the play still feels like going through a chapter in a science textbook, where a short story is used to illustrate an idea. After the last page it’s back to: What now?

Whether or not functioning as a disclaimer, Payne uses a quote from Peter Atkins’ On Being as an epigraph to his book:

Why should the universe have a purpose? The question of the universe is an invention of human minds…We should not impose human-inspired attitudes and questions on material things. There is a considerable grandeur, I think, in the presence of our spectacularly majestic universe just hanging there, wholly without purpose.

That is really sexy. And I agree. Because purpose, meaning, and — no matter how cheesy it sounds — the betterment of the world are dealt in the laboratories of art and literature. It’s a shame that Constellations falls short in placing human emotions against the possibilities (alternate realities?) it presents.

This is not to forget that it is written to be performed. That’s why it’s interesting to watch the live performance, starring Cris Villonco as Marianne and JC Santos as Roland, and which will run from Feb. 12 to Mar. 6 at the Power Mac Center Spotlight in Makati.

Villonco, who is also one of the founders of Red Turnip Theater, told me before that the company chooses plays that “don’t necessarily have the happy endings” but instead “have the real ones.” The question is, can there be endings in a multiverse? On paper, the entire play is neither sad nor happy, only theoretical. We can’t wait to see how Villonco, Santos, and director Rem Zamora will put heart into the cold science that informs Constellations.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

Sherlocked yet again

Before Benedict Cumberbatch and Robert Downey Jr. became THE Sherlock Holmes portrayers for TV and film, respectively, there was William Gillette, who took on the role of the consulting detective on film, stage, and radio in the early 1900s.

In Ken Ludwig’s The Game’s Afoot, Gillette becomes the main character of a crime story and gets to “play Sherlock” in two ways: first, as an actor who has recently starred as Sherlock Holmes in a Broadway production; and second, as a gunshot victim off to discover who the perpetrator is and their motive.

The show opens with the final scene of Gillette’s theatrical performance, where he is shot in the shoulder just as he’s about to take a bow. Later on he’s back to his Connecticut house, where he recovers, spending Christmas with his mother, co-actors, and a theater critic. As it can’t be avoided, instead of the usual holiday conversation, they talk about Gillette’s shooting and how it may be connected to recent mysterious deaths.

Repertory Philippines (Rep) welcomes the new year and its 79th season with The Game’s Afoot, with a desire to bring more people to the theater. “Everybody loves a mystery,” says Rep artistic director Joy Virata, who also plays Gillette’s mother, Martha in the show. Like the Arthur Conan Doyle page-turners, The Game’s Afoot is quick-paced, surprise-laden, with twists that are both unexpected and satisfying. Sherlock readers may expect in-depth, scientific discussions among the characters, but in place of these are snarky one-liners expertly delivered by a cast led by Virata, Paul Holme (William Gillette) and Pinky Amador (Daria Chase).

Holme is a grounded yet steadfast Gillette, while Virata is pitch-perfect as the frail, sensitive mother who will not hesitate to get her hands dirty for the sake of her child. And Amador, no stranger to villainous roles, is a nasty theater critic, whom you end up both loving and wishing to be dead.

The set design is deserving of recognition as well. When the lights turn on, revealing the Gillette mansion, there’s an almost inaudible gasp from members of the audience. As if the adults in the OnStage Theater seats have just witnessed something magical.

The Game’s Afoot ticks every box required to please theater-goers, whether newcomers or long-time aficionados. It is intelligent, plot-driven, and packed with verbal and physical humor. It reminds us as we laugh that everyone, including ourselves, is suspect. Let’s not forget that it also has the soul of a beloved fictional character.

That every generation has its own Sherlock star — and in our case more than two (add Johnny Miller and Ian McKellen) — speaks of the detective’s timeless appeal. “I suppose Sherlock Holmes still holds a special place for us today because he was the man of Conan Doyle who realized the importance of physical evidence,” mused Holme. “The CSI stuff that we see on television today is really a continuation of everything Conan Doyle (began) in his Sherlock Holmes mysteries — having a very precise and observant eye for physical details. I think that’s why he’s with us still.”

A great mystery is irresistible and more so is Sherlock’s allure. If Repertory Philippines aims to make theater a habit, then they may have taken the right step with The Game’s Afoot.

—Originally published on GIST

Artisan voyeur

Inside each of us lies a voyeur, furtively glancing at a stranger, wondering what’s underneath, if not imagining stories of their life from the little details available to us. Someone stands out in a crowd — because of his expression, because of her hat, because he reminds us of an old friend, because she acts like a character from a book.

Not many of us manage to get closer and so we remain a curious observer; yet some, who are ingenious enough, cut the distance. Self-described “artisan voyeur” Luc Fournol rubbed elbows with the greatest people of his — and to some extent our — time: Louis Armstrong, Pablo Picasso, Yves Saint Laurent, Ernest Hemingway, Sophia Lauren. As a photographer he captured images of these artists outside of a studio and in their own workshops and homes. “It is the subject who interests me. The technique is secondary,” he said.

Fournol had taken black-and-white portraits of icons of the 20th century but died before he could gather them for an exhibit. Now his friend Cyril Clement, to whom he entrusted these photographs with, allows the public a viewing of his works.

A photo posted by Razel Estrella (@fishpeep) on Jan 14, 2016 at 6:51am PST

“Faces of the Century,” an exhibit featuring Fournol’s portraits, is this generation’s rare chance to look at Truman Capote in the eye as if he is there breathing in front of you. Or smirk at Salvador Dali, say, “What the hell is that?” as he dangles a funny thing — with eyes — in your face. Looking at Fournol’s photos is also an occasion to know artists you haven’t heard of before. Through Fournol’s lens, these celebrated men and women become less of a stranger.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

Dwarfed by the islands of giants

We laid the pebbles and seashells on the bamboo table for a final inspection. My friend had what seemed like a semi-precious stone — a jade — though, too translucent, it might only be a shard of glass. “That’s a shard of glass,” said island caretaker Maruja. “But it’s not jagged, it’s smooth,” I protested, as if I knew what I was talking about. Maruja, without calling me out for my ignorance, explained that it was sea glass, “It’s a piece of broken glass polished by the waves.”

It wasn’t the first order of business to comb the shoreline for mementos to take back to Manila, but the island’s calm, iridescent waters beckoned us to look under and claim whatever we could carry with our two hands. A day’s worth of island-hopping had us looking under, above and beyond until we found things we could no longer tuck in our backpacks — larger rocks, limestone formations, a long stretch of sandbar, a green lagoon. Until we were struck by a splendour we couldn’t wrap our heads around.

Islas de Gigantes, a chain of islands in Northern Iloilo, Western Visayas, may not be the first destination that comes to mind when someone cries, “Beach, please!” But the photos should be enough to send you packing. I myself was compelled to book a flight after seeing a snapshot of Cabugao Gamay Island, or Maruja Flora’s Island Paradise Resort.

From Manila, a quick route to it is by way of Roxas airport in Capiz Province, then an hour or so boat ride from Bancal Port in Carles, Iloilo. Once there, you’ll concede that photographs, no matter how breath-taking they are, never do nature justice. And by the manner this piece is going, neither do words.

Cabugao Gamay on one end has a lush hill and on the other end a twin beach with a tall rock formation and sandbar at the tip (where we searched for souvenirs). Somehow it’s a shame to call it paradise, for the many places that attach themselves to the word don’t even begin to compare. Beautiful as it is, the island and resort are still recovering from the Typhoon Yolanda beating, but as Maruja pointed in the beginning, that’s what nature does, if not destroy what men have built, transform them, and during the course reshape its own land and seascapes. “Every day, the sea looks different,” the lady said.

Other islands in Gigantes (to give it a nickname) are not as popular, though are every bit as idyllic as Cabugao Gamay. Going to four or five of them will only take a couple of hours. I suggest you don’t. One island is enough to blow the mind. But do stop by Pulopandan or Gakit-Gakit, a tiny island that used to be inhabited by three coconut trees until the typhoon uprooted the other two. Keep the lone tree company.

Gigantes is also known for caves and story has it that when the Spanish settled in, enormous corpses were discovered within its caves that people believed giants walked on its grounds. Thus the name Islas de Gigantes. We saw the mouth of a cave (not giant, no) in the Tangke Saltwater Lagoon but dared not look further. In retrospect, there was no reason to be scared. When Typhoon Ruby battered the Visayas in 2014, residents were reported to have taken refuge in the Gigantes caves. Meanwhile, adventurers go to caves like Pawikan to hunt for treasures. There’s even an enticing myth that all of Gigantes’ caves connect to the provinces of Capiz and Masbate and the municipality of Pilar.

On the boat ride from Tangke back to Cabugao Gamay, I observed the islands — amazed at how close they were to each other — and wondered how they must look like joined underneath the ocean. Where do they stand? And still deeper, what’s there? When I shared these thoughts to my companion, there was a glint in her eyes and she exclaimed, “I was thinking the same!”

Then more questions came. Like how a single tree can survive on an island, how sandbars shift, how caves can be both graveyard and sanctuary, how water turns sharp glasses into the smoothest of stones.

There must be answers somewhere — in textbooks, on the Internet, but they were out of reach. And there was something about the sea and sky, that blue embrace that make you revel in mystery, resign to your smallness and flirt with the idea that maybe some giant, too big to be seen, is holding this entire world together.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

Death on Twitter

Elsewhere, a mourning contest.

Death as an aside.

Thin line between eulogy and clickbait.

Thoughts on the abominable bride

If you think about it, retellings and adaptations are fanfics written by professional writers. And no two Sherlock fanboys are better at tickling the fandom’s imagination than BBC One’s Sherlock co-creators and writers Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.

You can tell that Gatiss and Moffat are the ones giving themselves a holiday treat in the series’ special, The Abominable Bride, aired on New Year’s day — after two years of no Sherlock. The tandem previously expressed their desire to see Sherlock Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch) and Dr. John Watson (Martin Freeman) in the milieu that Arthur Conan Doyle had placed them in.

They’d been itching to do it. We’ve seen how they managed to make their modern-day iPhone-carrying Sherlock wear a deerstalker hat before. Now, in The Abominable Bride, they’ve gone full-on Victorian, with Sherlock carrying a pocket watch, smoking pipe, and uttering the classic lines “The game is afoot” and “Elementary, My dear Watson.”

Not only did the show runners got to inject references from the Conan Doyle canon, the series’ past episodes, and even the movies (“Elementary, my dear Watson” was popularized by a film adaption), they also got to weave Victorian Gothic horror in the story, just how we prefer our Christmas tales.

If it sounds like the one-off episode is an exercise in self-indulgence, don’t worry, it isn’t. But indulge away. The compelling storytelling, sharp dialogues, unexpected warmth, quirky humor, solid cast chemistry and, before we forget, crime-solving — things that made us fall in love with show in the first place — are all there. And then some.

The Abominable Bride hits the sweet spot when the sleuth and his Boswell got at the heart of the crime. We never thought it would be about women claiming their rightful place in society. Gatiss and Moffat — if great stories must be representations not of what something is but what it ought to be — gave women in the Victorian era their voice. When Mrs. Hudson (Una Stubbs, bless her), said to Watson, “I’m your landlady, not a plot device” in the beginning, it was more than just a clever remark on why she hates Watson’s columns. Meanwhile, Molly Hooper (Louise Brealy), who disguised herself as a man to keep her job in the mortuary reminds me of George Elliot, who had to adopt a male pen name to be taken seriously in the field of arts and letters. In this crucial aspect of the story, Mycroft proved to be the wiser brother, recognizing that these women must win the war “because they are right.”

From hereon, however, the show shifts to a wild gear. We found out that everything that happened so far, happened in Sherlock’s mind. Not exactly in his dream, but in his mind palace. Did it feel like a cop out? No, but it sure was crossing a foot on the side of over-indulgence. Especially when a corpse did move of its own accord, when Moriarty (Andrew Scott) kept showing up, and when Sherlock was suddenly transported to the Reichenbach Falls (though it was a pleasant visual nod to The Final Problem) and fell — or flew. Sherlock was re-examining an old case (Hurray for a chance to have a Victorian-themed episode!) to unlock the current case involving his arch-enemy, Moriarty; thus the trip way down the mind palace. It got a little bit Inception-y.

Like the drugs Sherlock took to stay in his mind palace, The Abominable Bride will get you high. Not the standalone (though clearly a standout) episode we expected, it drives the narrative forward, leaving the audience with bits of answers, a few more questions, and some clues here and there.

Sherlock returns in 2017. The waiting game is on.

—Originally published on GIST

Only vow

This year I vow to rebuild my poetry collection.

Off the top of my head, I lost:

Seamus Heaney

Marianne Moore

Louise Glück

Gwendolyn Brooks

Edna St Vincent Millay

E.E. Cummings

Don Paterson

Elizabeth Bishop

Alice Fulton
Lucie Brock-Broido
David St John
Anne Carson
Cherrie Moraga

So maybe I'll start with them.

I can't believe I'd be this hurt to remember a line, a word, a turn of phrase, and not be able to find the pages where it came from. That I'd only find nine poetry books on my shelf. Material things, yes, but mortality is material and I'll cling to what I can so long as I can.

Been struggling with the thought of letting go of what's gone, allowing space. But they weren't gone. They're in my head, in a printing press and in a bookshop, somewhere.

No girl power, only power

It must be my limited purview. When I gained consciousness, the nation was ruled by a housewife. Now, in my lifetime, I’ve seen two women presidents — and it might be three if we all survived this coming elections.

I grew up watching Ally McBeal and Charmed, both of which had female leads, the former in position of power (she’s a lawyer) and the latter, gifted with supernatural powers (they’re witches). In school, the deans, department heads, and the brightest, most opinionated students I had shared classrooms with were female. When I got out of school, I entered companies and publications where I worked with girl bosses and editors. In my own circle of friends, the ladies stick to their passions, make a living out of them, seek romance, nurture a family and look good doing it.

The concept of “girl power” was lost on me: there was only power, available in varying degrees to all members of the human race. I never thought that those people I mentioned had something others of the same sex were devoid/deprived of. As it turns out, their “normal” was the world’s “extraordinary.”

Sure I witness discrimination. One time I rode a cab that almost bumped into the car in front. The male cabbie sighed, “Tsk. Babae kasi ang driver.” He obviously didn’t notice that his passenger was a girl. But I don’t file instances like this under “misogyny” and cry foul on behalf of womenkind. I chalk it up to sheer impropriety. We’re all walking stereotypes and we see people as types, whether deliberately or subconsciously. You are measured in more ways than one: by your clothes, school, job, Twitter followers, literary preference, accent. Girlhood is a minor inconvenience.

To be honest, what’s distressing is this relentless invitation to fit the image of the modern woman: daring, outspoken, uncompromising, can-do-it-all and -do-it-better. It’s another suffocating box.

—Full story on GIST.PH

That moment Beethoven invaded my video game

An indication that someone is famous and influential? When their name is known to those uninterested, even ignorant of their area of expertise. Ask a non-classical music listener which classical artist they know, chances are they’ll say Beethoven.

Anyone who took piano lessons practised every day to perfect Ludwig Van Beethoven’s Für Elise, and the more ambitious ones take on the entire Moonlight Sonata. To the rest of us who can only try, thank goodness for the CDs and concerts that allow us to appreciate the glorious sounds, whether digitally in our living room or live in music halls.

Imagine though the delight of coming across his compositions in an unusual setting, say, a video game. There was a time in the ‘90s when “Earthworm Jim” became popular, and to its credit it was a weird, fun, not to mention addictive game. What made purchasing the next instalment, “Earthworm Jim 2” worth it was hearing the Moonlight Sonata, particularly its third movement on the last level. Jim was running and the fast, somewhat dark vibe of the piece fits the scene. What a finale.

Granted, classical music have been used several times in video games. But to hear one of your favorites, that will certainly make you giddy. Two centuries after his death, the German composer’s works are still being used in — and discovered by new generations through — video games, TV shows and countless movies, from horror to romance and comedy. That’s immortality for you. Happy birthday, Beethoven!

—Originally published on GIST

Anton Juan leaves the secret garden to the imagination

An elaborate piece of work can either test or arrest one’s attention. Such is the case with Repertory Philippines’ adaptation of Marsha Norman and Lucy Simon’s The Secret Garden, a musical based on the Frances Hodgson Burnett novel of the same title. In it are symbolic set pieces, ghosts walking — and singing — among the living, flashbacks, and quite a large cast of characters with a chorus.

The year is 1906, the place is England. Young Mary Lennox, after being orphaned, lives with her widowed uncle Archibald Craven. In her new home she discovers locked up in one of the rooms her sick cousin, Colin, who is about the same age as her and is convinced that he’ll die at any moment. She also learns of and is lured by a secret garden, which, as is later on revealed, is emblematic of the characters’ lives. It is dead because their spirits are down, and it blooms when they begin to open up.

The audience doesn’t get a peek at this wondrous garden. Even the house that contains the complicated family and its ghosts is only hinted at. On the stage is what seems like a huge stone roughly chiseled to form ladders and platforms, barely resembling a dwelling. “When we look at rocks or crumpled surfaces, figures and faces surge out of them. I wanted the house to be that of a rock from which memories would come out of,” explains director Anton Juan.

“The garden and the house must be completed in the imagination of the audience. Hence I wanted (the color) white and steps leading as if to nowhere. Once, I was in Hagonoy directing a traditional play for Babaylan, and I saw a madwoman, once rich, climb the only remnant of her once-mansion — a flight of steps. She would climb it and descend, then disappear into a shack behind it,” he continues.

Lovely set design. Anton Juan leaves the secret garden to the imagination, where most of the magic happens anyway. #TheSecretGarden #RepertoryPhilippines #theater #musical #GISTPH #BeHereNow

A photo posted by Razel Estrella (@fishpeep) on Nov 21, 2015 at 9:21am PST

With all the build-up to the garden, the detailed costumes, playful lighting, and unique imagining of the Cravens’ house, it’s natural to expect an equally creative set design for the titular garden. But the audience will soon realize that the production is leaving it entirely to their minds, where most of the magic happens anyway.

“The audience is the garden — the wick inside of us that Dickon sings about to Mary,” shares Juan. “This is also the colonized self inside us, the culture and history in us oppressed by dominant cultures, empires, order, technology and ‘science’ mis-used. The millennials (the silent generation) must see this. The wick awaits to grow and blossom, awaits freedom of expression.”

The question is, can the show be enjoyed without knowing the intent behind it? It certainly requires undivided attention. The actors’ affected accents can get in the way of following the dialogues, and the music — save for the Final Storm, which incorporates a haunting version of nursery rhyme Mary, Mary Quite Contrary — is missing the melodic hooks that are crucial in sustaining one’s interest in a musical. It helps that there’s a committed cast onstage. Standouts are Lorenz Martinez (as Archibald), who makes the songs soar; Daniel Drilon, who steals scenes as the stubborn, distrustful, yet charming Colin — he makes you root for him; and Red Concepcion (as Dickon), who’s always been a reliable thespian.

Aside from the cast, especially the child actors, whom Juan selected for their “talent and truth,” Juan takes pride in collaborating on a show with his former students. “I am working with a dream team of artistic collaborators who were my students: Dexter Santos, Ohm David, John Ilao Batalla, Bonzai… And this time it is they who are there, helping me shape what I want for us to articulate, and expect: excellence,” he says. “Surmounting the difficulties of the stage used by two plays all at once [the musical runs alongside another Repertory production, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs], and the humble fees they receive, the dream team has collaborated on The Secret Garden and makes it mean (something) truthful and profound in these days of great violence.”

—Originally published on GIST.PH

The test of travel

(A chunk of my interview with host Janet Hsieh regarding her Fun Taiwan wedding special. It's quite an eye-opening chat for someone like me who obsesses about privacy. Full article on GIST.PH.)

*

Has it always been the plan — get married in Antarctica and shoot the wedding for Fun Taiwan?

JANET HSIEH: (George and I were) talking about the dream destination and Antarctica was it. I started inviting my friends, family, and my producer — he loves adventure and we thought, “We should film it, it’ll be fun.” Then I told George, “Hey your parents are gonna be there and my parents are gonna be there.” And he made a joke: “Why don’t we just get married,” and I was like, “That’s a good idea.”

Traveling with your partner and getting married are very intimate affairs. How does it feel to have a camera and a crew following you around every step of the way?

For me it’s quite natural because for the past ten years, working with TLC, every time I travel somewhere, I have the camera with me. Yes you’re mixing your private life with work, but I love it. When we decided to do the wedding thing, obviously I needed to talk to George, who was a little bit more reserved.

We weren’t going to have a wedding at first. But after we started filming — in Texas for ten days, then Argentina for another 10 days, and finally to Antarctica — by that time that it just became routine, so normal, to have a camera there. Plus, the advantage of having a production is that you’re focusing on planning the trip. You’re not thinking about the wedding so much. For us the idea of planning a wedding is very stressful. But planning a trip is okay! So that took off a lot of the normal wedding anxiety that you would have.

With my new #BFF, the newly married Janet Hsieh. 'If you really wanna know your partner, travel with them,' said she. (Janet took this selfie, coz I didn't know how.) #TLCfestivalPH #JanetHsieh #GISTPH #BeHereNow

A photo posted by Razel Estrella (@fishpeep) on Nov 21, 2015 at 1:19am PST

What was it like to revisit your hometown with your significant other?

That was fun. I grew up in Texas but left when I was 17. So to go back as an adult and relive all the things that we used to do — kayaking, horseback riding, eating streak — and be able to share it with George is completely different. I felt like I kind of went back to being a kid again. We were in the rodeo and I was so excited, but then George was there so sometimes it became a competition, I wanted to be the better horseback rider. Sometimes I kind of wanted to guide him, and sometimes it was just us two experiencing things for the first time together. So it was very nice, and to see George’s reaction to everything was always hilarious.

What are the major differences — maybe advantages or disadvantages — of traveling alone, with a group, and with your partner?

Travelling alone, you’ll meet so many people. Because humans are naturally social creatures, when you travel by yourself, you’re always looking to meet people. Even if it’s just one-day friends, you’ll always meet that person, and sometimes you end up traveling together for a bit of time.

When travelling with a group, obviously you have the dynamics of the group. So if it’s your friends, you really start to see things about them that you don’t normally see in day-to-day life. So that could make or break relationships. It really could. But it’s also fun. When you’re away from the stress of work and all that, a lot of times you become closer. Even if you have hard times, say, something terrible happens like bad weather and you can’t do the things you wanted to do, you’re cuddled together in one space that you end up becoming really close. That’s the advantage.

Travelling with a partner — I always say, if you really want to know your partner, travel with them. (Plan everything together) down to where you book your hotel and what kind of food you’ll eat. If you come across any problems — or just even with the shopping, how (they) interact with the shopkeepers — you’ll really see what this person is like. For me, traveling can be a deal breaker. If I don’t travel well with this person then I know I won’t have a good life with them.

Stuck in a room with wasted kids

There’s nothing funny about drugs, robbery, and running away. At least not if you had engaged in all these and are now looking at your transgressions from a comfortable distance. Kenneth Lonergan’s This is Our Youth seems to be that retrospective narrative of a time long gone and one could no longer imagine returning to, except to laugh at it.

Twenty-something Dennis Ziegler is lounging about in his Manhattan apartment (which is paid for by his parents) when his almost-twenty friend Warren Straub drops by with his backpack and suitcase. Warren ran away after a fight with his dad, and before leaving had stolen $15,000 from him. Together the two friends face a huge problem: how to spend the money.

Spent the night in Dennis Ziegler's room. #RedTurnipTheater #ThisIsOurYouth #theater

A photo posted by Razel Estrella (@fishpeep) on Nov 7, 2015 at 3:00pm PST

If the premise sounds exaggerated, like a springboard for a wild adventure, it isn’t. Dennis and Warren are no ordinary kids looking for excitement, they are privileged kids who have so much that they don’t know what to do with it.

Red Turnip Theater’s staging of Lonergan’s critically acclaimed play is a breather from the nostalgia- and pop culture-obsessed productions we’ve been seeing for a while. The play, though set in the ’80s and in parts driven by music, banks on neither nostalgia nor pop culture references to draw easy laughs and build connection with the audience.

Instead, it presents painfully familiar pot-smoking characters. Dennis (Jef Flores) is the short-fused, self-assured guy, who has an opinion on everything and is convinced of their accuracy. On the other hand, Warren (Nicco Manalo), though smart enough, always second-guesses himself and looks to Dennis for guidance. A third character is Warren’s object of desire, Jessica (Cindy Lopez), who is also sharp but fragile.

Red Turnip shuts the audience up in a room with these three. And by room we mean an 80-seater A Space Gallery in Makati, where people watch the play sitting on bean bags, close enough to see the nerves on Dennis’ neck whenever he screams (which is often), the twitching of Warren’s fingers, and the eyes of Jessica welling with tears.

It’s like being a fourth character, only invisible and mute. You feel helpless when Dennis and Warren get in a row and throw things in the apartment. And when Dennis bangs the rotary phone down, you want to shout, “Spare the poor phone!” In this set up, director Topper Fabregas succeeds in bringing the audience not back in time but in the moment with the characters.

And the source of their conflicts? Nothing earth-shaking: fighting with their parents, getting laid, figuring whether or not they’re in a relationship, running out of pot, finding better pot. It’s so trivial it’s funny — but not to them, not at that age where every movement is felt with intensity and every thought is taken seriously.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

Laughter and danger

Remember playing in the kitchen when you were young? No, not experimenting with food but making a mess. And making musical instruments out of pots, pans, and ladles, only what came out wasn’t music but noise. Or maybe you still do it now that you’re all grown up. You sauté mushrooms while wiggling to techno beats. You tap the spoon on a glass while waiting for the oven ding!

What you do spontaneously at home, a group of Korean artists has turned into an hour and a half of performance art. Cookin’ Nanta, as presented at the start of the show, is a top tourist attraction in Korea and has toured around the world since its 1997 premiere. In Manila, the show continues its first and limited run until Nov. 15 (Sun.) at The Theatre, Solaire.

There’s barely any cooking in Cookin’ Nanta. It’s essentially a percussion show mixed with comedy and circus acts. That there’s a story — no matter how flimsy — holding the performances together, makes the five people onstage more endearing than they already are. With their restaurant chosen to cater a wedding party, a team of chefs is tasked to finish a demanding menu in an hour, at exactly 6 o’ clock. Their condition is aggravated by the arrival of their hot-headed boss’ nephew, who, by way of nepotism, instantly becomes a new chef, taking the hat of one of the older chefs. There’s also some romance injected in the musical.

The connection between the performers and the audience is Cookin’ Nanta’s not-so-secret ingredient. To say that there’s audience participation involved is inaccurate as the characters onstage communicate with the people in front of them the entire night, whether by directly asking them to come up on stage, making eye contact, or reacting to their reactions. The best parts of the program are when members of the audience don’t respond the way they’re expected to. And the performers’ way of dealing with the situation is a pleasure to watch.

But where you’ll go Whoa! is when the four chefs are at their stations, chopping vegetables. Onions, cucumbers, carrots and cabbages fly — gracefully — onstage and onto the audience. And then it hits you: they are drumming, playing with knives. You are amazed and at the same time thankful that you’re not in the front row, because you remember those concerts in which you’ve seen the drumsticks slip from the drummer’s hands.

The combination of food, music, and dancing is not a rarity in entertainment. Cookin’ Nanta succeeds not because it’s new but because the artists are simply too good at what they do. They’ll make you want to grab your own pair of drumsticks. They even make slapsticks genuinely hilarious. “Nanta” means “to strike relentlessly,” and the cast proves they’re more of musicians than cooks in the finale. They remove their chef uniforms and don skintight tank tops and pants. They are no longer the clumsy, carefree and funny characters they portray. They are five rockstars who make banging plastic containers cool.

—Originally published on GIST

On that ugly word, ‘staycation’

I first heard the word “staycation” in 2011 when I wrote for a travel magazine. What came to mind was, during long weekends, holidays and summer breaks, instead of going out, one would simply stay at home and indulge in things like baking, movie marathons, hot baths, or engaging in the high art of doing nothing. Not until I read ads and articles about staycation deals and “Things to Do on a Staycation.” They obviously talked about leaving the house.

So what is a staycation?

In a 2008 article, Salon described the term as an “economy-based euphemism.” Times were (still are?) tough in the US economy-wise and people were “too broke to go anywhere.” The online magazine cited earlier use of the word, but underscored that it only became a buzzword that year. Another site, Skift, noted how staycation was picked up as an effective marketing idiom.

So what does one do on a staycation?

If you browse through “Staycation Ideas” listicles, a staycation may involve activities such as visiting a museum, going to an amusement park, watching a play, dining at a themed restaurant, reading a book, having a massage, and attending a festival. Pretty much anything you can do on any regular weekend — or weekday if you play hookey.

So what makes a staycation special?

There has to be an element of novelty, something you can’t do at home, or, if you choose to stay at home, something you don’t normally do there. Also, you have to do things at your leisure (I’m making up rules here, just so we’re clear). Of course, you shouldn’t spend a lot and where you’re having your staycation must be nearby (no need to board a plane would be a good standard).

A few weeks ago I was told I had a staycation. I stayed (hah, stayed) at InterContinental Manila and checked out the developments in Circuit Makati. The hotel, which is closing by the end of 2015, offers a holiday staycation package, so why not pamper myself within its walls one last time?

I’ve always been sold on the idea of checking in a hotel over the weekend as a form of vacation. The next person who can afford an overnight stay at the InterCon may find it pointless — all you’ll enjoy is a nice bed, a pool, bathtub and buffet breakfast. The money can be better spent elsewhere. But I like the thought of not cleaning up after yourself. Not having to wash the dishes, do the laundry, fold bedsheets. It’s a nice way to be spoiled.

The silence, cleanliness, and safety inside the executive room already relaxed me. The afternoon was spent appreciating the crisp linen, carpeted floor, warm lighting, and the carefully arranged water bottles, tea bags, glasses and coffee cups. It’s a nice way to live, however briefly, in your fantasy home.

At sundown, I saw some action and tried new stuff. Because I don’t have a car, I satisfied my driving appetite at City Kart Racing in Circuit Makati. There I realized I’m such a defensive driver that I let everyone else go ahead of me. But, surprise, I still managed to rank second to the last.

Other cravings satiated afterwards were gustatory and intellectual. I had dinner at Backyard Kitchen + Brew (my culinary vocabulary is limited, so you have to trust me when I say the food was delicious) before watching the entertaining No Filter 2.0 at Power Mac Center Spotlight, a black box theater.

I don’t know about you but coming home from an adventure is as exciting as the adventure itself. I was shuttled back to the hotel, where the rest of the night was spent downing a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. The best part? There was more to do — and not do — the next day.

See, staycation is a beautiful thing with an ugly name. From an economic and introverted standpoint, staycations should allow you to recharge, soul-search, and have fun without going to Italy, India or Indonesia and going broke. With that definition, it deserves a better name. Like its relatives. Just hear the elegance of “travel,” the cool ruggedness of “trek,” the gallantry of “voyage,” the wisdom of “retreat.”

So yeah, what should we call it?

—Originally published on GIST.PH

Not for nostalgia but knowledge

One thing that undersecretary Manolo Quezon III reiterated during his lecture on the opening day of “Defining Quirino,” a commemorative exhibit at the Ayala Museum, was: “Today began yesterday.” These words he borrowed from writer Leon Maria Guerrero.

Part of the Philippines’ yesterday included Quirino, whose legacy the nation enjoys today — minimum wage, eight-hour work laws, the social security system, and standardization of teachers’ salaries. The unfortunate fact is not many are aware of who Quirino is beyond being a former president of the republic, a reason that the President Elpidio Quirino Foundation, Inc. came up with the exhibit.

Quezon presented to the audience a Quirino who is at his core a broken human being just like you and me. We heard his voice and saw him in his trunks, about to dive into a pool. We saw photos of him soon after he was informed of then president Manuel Roxas’ death. Quirino was a vision of a leader in control of the situation. Not until the next photo, which shows Quirino crying by the casket. Those photographs portrayed a man who is both prepared and not, a man who is both tough and fragile. Personally, the images evoked some of my deepest fears: losing someone important and taking on responsibilities I didn’t ask for, at least not for the time being. Quirino weathered all these and more. His family was taken from him during the war. How does one recover from that?

We were also reminded of the difference between a politician and a statesman, and that Quirinio exemplified the latter. Trivia: he became notorious for sleeping in a P5,000 bed (then an extravagant amount). “But he bought it,” Quezon noted, “and he left it at the palace.” Quezon also pointed out that, thinking of the next generation, Quirino was among the first, if not the first to assert the importance of claiming the Spratly archipelago. And when he lost to Ramon Magsaysay in the next elections, he welcomed him to the office — an act of goodwill we barely witness in the political arena.

Quezon said something amusing before the start of his talk: “Usually there would only be around 15 people in a lecture like this,” and he referred to men and women who already knew the subject. That time, the ground was filled with students (granted, they were required to attend by their teachers). He confessed it would be a challenge to introduce someone who lived half a century ago to those born in the ’90s. But should it not be the point of exhibits — (re)discovery? Hopefully the afternoon at the museum served as an opportunity for both young and old, strangers to and friends and relatives of Quirino to look at a historical figure and what he means to them with a clearer head, without a nostalgic filter. It was, after all, an invitation to define Quirino.

—Originally published on GIST

Rooting for Rafa

It is a sports storyline that turns casual spectators into invested fans. New tennis talent comes in to shock everyone by winning a grand slam on his first attempt at age 19, then proves the feat is no fluke by bagging the title for four consecutive years. This is of course Spain’s Rafael Nadal, who practically owns the French Open and is hailed “King of Clay” for being almost unbeatable in the court.

But a sports superstar shines brightest against a rival. And every sporting event yearns for a rivalry. On grass court, the most prestigious one among them no less, Switzerland’s Roger Federer rules. His skills and discipline are somehow overshadowed by his poetic grace: Federer is not the Greatest of All Time (G.O.A.T.) — he is a god.

When the two clashed at the Wimbledon Gentlemen’s Singles Finals in 2008, they wrote a tale that bears repeating. Nadal pushed the reigning champion into five sets, into tie-breaks, into over four hours of playing before finally taking match point and the trophy.

Prior to that, Nadal failed to win the Wimbledon twice, with Federer in his way. Though each time they met, the former made the latter work harder to earn the next point, staying so close that supporters of both players believed things would go Nadal’s way. “He’s the perfect foil to Roger Federer, the brash yet flawless machine that Roger is not,” notes a friend. “He’s infuriating to a Roger fan.”

In the same year that he won his first Wimbledon title, Nadal also snagged the Olympic Gold in Men’s Singles, and was ranked World No. 1. Since then, he’s had 14 grand slams under his belt and is now chasing French Open championship number ten.

We can talk all day about records, histories and techniques to find out who the real G.O.A.T. is, but once fans become devotees of an athlete, they can no longer be convinced otherwise. They could only cheer their idol on. It’s not the win or the numbers, after all, that make someone fall for an athlete, it’s that winning attitude — knowing they can still take game, no matter what the odds are.

In 2012, back on the clay court, Nadal played the finals against Serbia’s Novak Djokovic — a not-so-new kid in tennis town. He, along with UK’s Andy Murray, have joined Nadal and Federer as this generation’s tennis elite. Relentless, clinical, with the endurance (and humor) of a teenager, Djokovic is an infuriating character to fans of any player on the other side of the court.

Down to two sets against Nadal, it should be easy to write off the King of Clay’s challenger. But this was Djokovic. If anyone could mount a comeback, he’s the guy. And he did win the third set, 6 – 2 and went on to tie the fourth set. Not wanting to risk a heart attack, or worse, a long- lasting heartbreak, I switched channels. In other words I did something Nadal didn’t know how to do: give up.

The following day I learned Nadal had won his 7th and 3rd consecutive French Open title. Watching the replay, there it was, the fighting spirit people often speak of. Eric Hoffer says desire creates talent, and you could see this with Nadal’s every awkward (some pundits blatantly call it “ugly”) shot. If Federer’s elegance is awe-inspiring, Nadal’s sheer willpower is encouraging.

This year, Nadal and Djokovic (with their own fresh rivalry) met again at the French Open quarter finals and however scary it got, I stayed with Nadal for the entire game, which turned out to be a short one. Djokovic put him away in three sets. Heartbreak.

I try my best.

A photo posted by Razel Estrella (@fishpeep) on Dec 8, 2015 at 8:50am PST

Talks of an era ending reverberated, especially with this season, which many have touted as his worst, with Nadal not winning any major. It’s getting tougher and tougher to watch post-game interviews. As in all losses, though, he would simply say, “He played better than me” and congratulate his opponent.

This humility, and to some extent vulnerability, outside the court is as endearing as what goes on inside, where, despite his dominance he acts like the underdog going after every ball. It also helps that he has a boyish charm about him, as well as quirks (last time we checked he has 19 distinct tics) that inspire fondness — if you were rooting for him. All these things set him apart from the other machines on court.

But for now, difficult as it is to ponder, he may be the underdog — after all the injuries, other players getting stronger by the day, and new blood like Stan Wawrinka (another Swiss) joining the fray. In an interview with Sky News, Nadal confessed to feeling tired at the start of the season. “I suffered this year, but the last couple of months I am enjoying the game,” he said.

During the US Open third round interview (last September), Nadal already accepted that 2015 wasn’t his year, but, quite predictably, he continued on a positive note: “(I have to) keep fighting till the end of the season to finish in a positive way for me. Finish the season with the feeling that I improved something from the beginning of the season.”

Not a sign of giving up. Does he think he can win another slam? Of course he does, and this fan vows to stay with him up until the last ball.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

To those who won’t pay for Gary Mullen tickets because he’s no Freddie Mercury

Maybe it was the cushioned chairs, maybe it was the low temperature. Or maybe it was not knowing what to make of this guy who looked, acted and sounded like Freddie Mercury — were we amazed, amused, or disappointed?

The band played Another One Bites the Dust and still the audience appeared as if they were watching a Shakespeare tragedy. Except for a boy on the third row, who stood up and allowed his tiny frame be taken over by the music.

The guy holding the microphone, sweating like a pig as he did his best Freddie Mercury impression, took notice: “Are your bottoms glued to the seat?” he asked the crowd, then gave a shout out to the boy who knew how to rock and roll. When the band performed I Want To Break Free, the same boy jumped up and down to the beat, his arms raised to form a V throughout song.

Queen frontman and songwriter Freddie Mercury passed away in 1991, way before that kid was born. And to that young concert-goer, as well as to those who sat comfortably at Solaire Theater last Oct. 24, watching Gary Mullen & The Works — regarded as “the world’s premier Queen tribute band” — might be the closest they could ever get to experiencing a Queen live concert.

A video posted by Razel Estrella (@fishpeep) on Oct 26, 2015 at 10:40am PDT

You come into this kind of show with reservation, worrying that someone will bastardize your rock god. Garry Mullen, despite the voice, costume and antics, is no Freddie Mercury. You shiver with excitement upon hearing the intro to Bicycle Race, but feel something’s not right when the singer’s not extending the word “bicycle” into four syllables the way Freddie does in the chorus.

Yet you’re at fault for expecting to see the late great Freddie in another person. Not even Mullen is convinced that he sounded like the Queen vocalist. “I just hear my own my voice,” he said. For him, the impersonation is all about being an eight-year-old again, singing in his bedroom. It’s all about being a fan and continuing the fun that Queen set in motion. “Music is ageless,” mused Mullen. “I love introducing music to a whole generation of fans.”

It was the cushioned chairs and the low temperature. And people not quite knowing what to expect. Mullen’s sense of humor — and persistence — warmed up the crowd. He eventually got them on their feet and clogging the aisles to get closer to the stage. Finally, some rule-breaking. He made the Queen fans let go of their inhibitions. The next thing you know, everyone was high-fiving and taking selfies with him. More importantly, the show turned out to be the sing-along party it was meant to be.

Bohemian Rhapsody, We Will Rock You, We Are The Champions, Radio Ga Ga, I Want It All. Queen classics deserve no less than passionate, never mind if out-of-tune, communal singing with fist pumping. And you want to belt out these anthems with fellow die-hard fans. With people who know and love the band’s obscure songs. People who understand — like the gang in the balcony (who are always the loudest and happiest), like the boy on the third row, like Gary Mullen & The Works.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

500 days of solitude on Mars

In Ridley Scott’s The Martian, astronaut Mark Watney (Matt Damon) woke up on Mars alone. After a storm hit them, his team of space travellers mistook him for dead and continued with their mission without him.

Watney figured how to survive on the red planet one day at a time, by sciencing the shit out of it. He rationed available food, managed to grow potatoes, and found means to communicate with NASA. Rummaging through the abandoned spacecraft for whatever tools he may use, he dug up his commander’s music collection, entirely composed of disco classics. Sucks to be him. “No, I will not turn the beat around,” Watney vented.

Music inspires, no question about it, but you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Consider this playlist a 21st century version of “What CD will you bring when you get stuck on an island?” You are on your own. On Mars. Help — if it ever comes — may arrive 900 days later, more or less. What songs will keep you alive?

A little bit of everything, don’t you think? So I made a playlist which includes pop, classical, OPM (to make you feel closer to home), and, as much as Watney would disapprove, some disco.

Watney safely landed back on Earth and became a professor. On his first day in class, he shared with his students how he thought of death: “At some point, everything’s going to go south on you. You’re going to say, ‘This is it. This is how I end.’ Now, you can either accept that or you can get to work,” he said and encouraged them to solve a problem, solve the next problem, and then the next problem, until they reach home.

It may be unlikely that you will be trapped on Mars, but you don’t need to be left for dead on another planet to feel alone, homesick, musing on mortality, looking for answers. Either way, this playlist should suffice.



—Originally published on GIST.PH

Curing a mild case of city envy

If you switch back to the rear-facing camera, step backwards, a bit more, you might catch in the frame something as pretty, sprightly, and maybe wiser than you are — the city. Those skyscrapers you pass by every day, they have stood there long before you were born. They have learned to dance with earthquakes and confuse the winds.

“I feel it is important to document the best designs and architecture in each city because they can change its entire landscape,” said Herschel Supply co-founder Lyndon Cormack, who acted more like the avid traveler and photographer at heart that he is during the Herschel #CityLimitless campaign launch on Oct. 22 at A_Space, Makati. “Design is everywhere. City Limitless and photography allow us to capture special moments and the details that show the heartbeat of a city.”

The Instagram hashtag, which began making noise earlier this year, now has close to a hundred thousand posts. It’s a quick way to travel around the world, see the city through the eyes of someone like you — not a professional photographer or travel writer, but someone who’s simply curious. A fair warning, though. If you’re not careful, going through the stream can also stir a mild case of city envy.

We pressed Cormack to cite his favorite photos but he only shared a fascination with the amount of modern architecture as well as the extent people have gone through to get amazing shots, like climbing the top of the tallest buildings.

Checking out the streets of Manila. #herschelsupply #citylimitless

A photo posted by Lyndon Cormack (@lyndon) on Oct 21, 2015 at 6:40pm PDT

The entry above is by Cormack. It’s cool to find something you see — and ride — every day in the mix of all these photos around the world. And it’s charming how it stands out.

Cormack stayed for a short time in Manila, to him not enough to get to know the city. What stuck to his memory? The Manila American Cemetery and hand-painted typography. “It’s so easy today to take a font from the computer and print a sign. Everybody is lazy nowadays. I saw a little sign in the jeepney that just said ‘family use,’ but it’s hand-drawn. This is not normal, it’s very special,” he shared as if he had discovered a relic.

With his sense of wonder, we thought he would make a great travel companion. Not to those faraway cities featured in #CityLimitless, but here, in Manila. Much has been said about seeing the same things with fresh eyes, but maybe you do need another set of eyes to appreciate what you have. So an assignment: walk the city with someone, discover, document, and do it all over again. While at it, keep Cormack’s words in mind: “Cities are not just tourist destinations. They have secrets. Hidden gems.”

—Originally published on GIST

What’s hiding in your playlist?

A friend once ranted that his Spotify account was set to public by default. Meaning for the longest time, the songs he listened and were listening to were for up for everyone’s perusal without him knowing. “So?” I said in all honest confusion. “It’s just music.”

Only later on have I realized that it isn’t just music. It’s life and it’s personal. What you listen to, after all, betrays a piece of you — what you find sublime and beautiful or at the very least agreeable and tolerable. Some have also pointed out the subtle workings of mixtapes and playlists. In a specific moment in your life, you curate songs that convey something you don’t have words for; that if some alien life form discovered it years after, it might be able to decode who you were and your conditions in that instant.

Last month, I, along with a group of writers, had the opportunity to have dinner with Spotify director of label relations Chee Meng Tan, who also happens to be a big music geek. He shared with us that the users’ playlists provide valuable data to the company.

According to him, listening sessions in the Philippines is the highest and most sustained. We make an average of 6 million playlists in a year (I know I’m contributing 29 and counting this 2015), while other countries make 2 million on the average. “Filipinos are so invested in streaming that they tripled the amount,” he said and further suggested that these numbers are a testament to our rich musical culture — that or our unrivaled traffic situation.

Because guess what, “traffic jams” (cheeky, eh?) top the list of popular playlist categories, followed by “hugot.” What does it say about our nation? That, obviously, traffic is hell here and we’re an emotional bunch?

While on the subject, Tan shared that the playlist he listens to the most is what he calls “Random S” — a sort of flavor-of-the-month dump. “There’s jazz, hip hop, Chinese bands, etc.,” he said. Someone in the group also shared that he has a “A good cry” playlist, which, as you may have guessed, contains sad, sappy songs. Everyone else jumped in on the discussion and noted that they, too, have those types of playlists: one wherein they could deposit an interesting song regardless of genre, artist or mood, and another which they play if they’re in the melancholy zone.

And that’s the thing, despite our musical differences, we share common experiences that we tuck in a playlist. They may have different titles and non-identical tracks, but there’s no doubt that a couple of our playlists will more or less come from the same place.

When I was younger, I used to dream of having instant access to all the music that I like and instantly create mixtapes (and I’m sure you did, too). Now it’s so easy with streaming services such as Spotify that I haven’t paused yet to fully appreciate the phenomenon. Because that which appears to be a casual act of compiling songs — as with any activity that involves composition — is therapeutic. For someone who obsesses about order and compartmentalizing life into manageable sections, the humble playlist is a blessing.

Each time I hit “New Playlist,” I remember my angered friend. I remember that if the music you patronize says something about you, then your playlists reveal more than you’re willing to let on. I still don’t mind if anyone gets to peek at my music library (who would be interested, in the first place); and I enjoy looking at others’ collections. But I also understand those who are protective of their music, I understand that sometimes they’re in the middle of a good cry and wish to be left alone.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

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Bonus:

Presenting Penthouse, my favorite playlist. My ultimate dream is to host a party at my own penthouse and these will play in the background.



Wait, there's more. Here's the OST of my life.