Influences

Art by Sean Eidder

A trip to the bookstore during my high school years entailed a good stretch of time hunching over a shelf at the poetry section. Not because I enjoyed reading poems but because I didn’t know how to.

My long-standing love affair with poetry began as how love affairs often do: visually and with a dose of ignorance. That the lines didn’t reach the other end of the margin made me think of the poet as a rebel, defying the rules of writing we were taught to venerate. More so when I saw text arranged in unusual ways, whether syntactically or spatially on the page.

“Why cut a phrase in specific places?” I would ask myself. “How are these decisions made?” When William Carlos Williams declared, “so much depends upon a red wheelbarrow,” why had he not plainly put it in a straight line but instead delivered it as such: “so much depends / upon // a red wheel / barrow”? And, while at it, where were the punctuation marks and what the hell were these things that were so dependent upon a red — not blue or white or green — wheelbarrow?

There was something about this strange order and sparseness that made me want to dive deeper both into the words and into the spaces between and around them. The poem, though it may not fill up the paper, can make it weigh more than any novel out there. A few English composition and World Literature classes later, I had a glimpse of the poem’s inner workings and, armed with new knowledge plus my friends’ and professors’ recommended titles, the trip to the bookstores (and the library, of course) became occasions to look forward to.

Somewhere, somehow, another curious but confused reader may not know where to start. I’d be the first to say I’m no expert to make a definitive guide, but here are verses from the poems that unlocked in me a passion for the craft when I first read them (and they’re best read out loud). Ezra Pound famously says literature is “news that stays news.” Each time I recall these poems (as I do now), the same sensations run through me: the shock of recognition, the rush of current in my body, and the tinge of envy right after (Wish I wrote that—).

1.

If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this.

— “Like This” by Rumi (Book: The Essential Rumi)

2.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

— “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop (Book: The Complete Poems 1927-1979)

3.

It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution’s power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

— “Love is Not All (Sonnet XXX)” by Edna St. Vincent Millay (Book: Collected Poems)

4.

Kung ibig mo akong kilalanin,
Sisirin mo ako hanggang buto,
Liparin mo ako hanggang utak,
Umilanglang ka hanggang kaluluwa—
Hubad ako room mula ulo hanggang paa.

— “Kung Ibig Mo Akong Makilala” by Elynia S. Mabanglo (Book: Mesa Para sa Isa)

5.

Akala ko, para nang piyanong
Nasusian ang iyong kalooban
At naihagis ang susi kung saan,
Hindi na matitipa ng sino at alinman
Ang mga tekladong tuklap, naninilaw.

— “Akala Ko” by Rolando S. Tinio (Book: A Trick of Mirrors)

6.

Six planets in her horoscope
augur well for this, her tryst:
in her hand, a glass of vin de table
(a steal at the local supermart),
her head befuddled by hope
and love, preferably a la carte.

— “Ms. Lulu Syntax at the Sexual Oyster Cafe” by Eric Gamalinda (Book: Lyrics from a Dead Language)

7.

Only the young can be alone freely.
The time is shorter now for company,
And sitting by a lamp more often brings
Not peace, but other things.

— “Vers de Société” by Philip Larkin (Book: High Windows)

8.

So much of the city
is our bodies. Places in us
old light still slants through to.
Places that no longer exist but are full of feeling,
like phantom limbs.
Even the city carries ruins in its heart.
Longs to be touched in places
only it remembers.

— “Phantom Limbs” by Anne Michaels (Book: The Weight of Oranges / Miner’s Pond)

9.

[…] He
“gives his opinion and then rests on it”;
he renders service when there is
no reward, and is too reclusive for
some things to seem to touch
him, not because he
has no feeling but because he has so much.

— “The Student” by Marianne Moore (Book: Complete Poems)

10.

we’re anything brighter than even the sun
(we’re everything greater
than books
might mean)
we’re everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we’re alive)
we’re wonderful one times one

— “if everything happens that can’t be done” by E.E. Cummings (Book: One Times One)

11.

As they took him from the cross
I, the centurion, took him in my arms—
the tough lean body
of a man no longer young,
beardless, breathless,
but well hung.
He was still warm.
While they prepared the tomb
I kept guard over him.
His mother and the Magdalen
had gone to fetch clean linen
to shroud his nakedness.

— “The love that dares to speak its name” by James Kirkup (Published in Gay News in 1976)

12.

These are amazing: each
Joining a neighbor, as though speech
Were a still performance.
Arranging by chance

— “Some trees” by John Ashbery (Book: Some Trees)

13.

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

— “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” by Wallace Stevens (Book: The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens)

—Originally published on GIST

I love your work so, so much

After years of underlining bits of text I deem too beautiful to forget from whatever reading material I get my hands on, this particular year proves the utility of the practice.

The internet and the nature of my job increase the likelihood of me interacting with people whose works I admire. Visual artists, musicians, writers. Just last week, I probably had the biggest small exchange of my life.

I posted Alice Fulton's 'What I like' on my Twitter, and she thanked me — and even said my name [EXCLAMATION POINT]

@fishpeep Thanks for posting my poem, Razel!

— Alice Fulton (@RiffSublime) June 23, 2016

So I had to say something in return, it was my chance to, not out of the blue, tell her what I've always wanted to tell her, how brilliant I think she is, but of course in a very dignified manner. And, but, all I came up with was:

@fishpeep Thanks so much. It's lovely to hear this at the start of the day. I hope to read your work, too.

— Alice Fulton (@RiffSublime) June 24, 2016

Since then this passage about what we truly mean when we say we love an artwork, that we think it's beautiful, was floating in my head. I knew I've highlighted that in one of those theory books and I knew it was either Ann Lauterbach or another female writer (Anais Nin, maybe; or Jeanette Winterson; hardly Sontag, coz I remember the prose being very lyrical and, um, kind). So I picked up 'The night sky' and saw that it was mildly annotated.

But there it was. What a pleasure to know exactly what you're looking for and then finding it, and then finding out you're getting more than what you expected. Rereading the lines plus the entire argument behind it lent me a new clarity.

A young poet friend remarks, "The divine part of humanity is its capacity to see the interconnectedness between all things. To be that interconnectedness." If this is so, then the Divinity we wish to resemble is testing us in subtle new ways, asking us to worship at the Temple of Information, whose Disembodied Oracular Source (who is speaking?) is lost in a thousand transcripts flying through the stratosphere, like pixilated ghosts, each with its particle of fact. To see connections in this, to find in it the syntax of the heart, to invent compelling stories and stunning images: to impose on this astounding influx form?

Form, after all, is chosen limit.

Limit, as a formal characteristic, is the expression of choice in the service of the possible.

The possible is the indeterminate futurity of meaning.

Form posits the optimum conditions for meaning to occur.

. . . .

When limits, or choices, are displayed in the service of the possiblity of meaning, in the making of art objects, we call the result beautiful. That is, we stand before a painting by Vermeer, or we read a poem by Paul Celan, or we listen to Shostakovich's Twenty-four Preludes and Fugues for piano, and we say this is beautiful. But what we are really announcing is our pleasure and gratitude in the fact of the choices the artist has made [emphasis mine]. We recognize something in how one stroke of the brush brushes up against another stroke of the brush; how one note moves toward and away from the next in an astounding sequence; how one word attaches itself to another and to another and to another until something that has to do with all the words separately—the history of their meaning—gathers into a nexus which allows us, which invites us, to experience something like the meaning of meaning.

. . . .

Art is not entertainment, and it is not decor. It is one of the rude fallacies of our time to want to reduce all art forms, and in particular literary arts, to their most facile and elemental role, and so deny their potential to awaken, provoke, and elicit our glee at being agents in the construction of meaning.

So the next time I meet one of my creative heroes, I'll show my appreciation by slapping them with Ann Lauterbach's 'The night sky'. Kidding. Will tell them, Thank you for making these creative decisions.

Keep creating

There is a scene in Richard Linklater’s Boyhood where divorcée Olivia tells her college-bound son Mason that it is the worst day of her life. Asked why, she replies, “You know what I’m realizing? My life is just going to go. Like that. This series of milestones — getting married, having kids, getting divorced… getting my masters degree, finally getting the job I wanted, sending Samantha off to college, sending you off to college. You know what’s next? It’s my fucking funeral! Just go and leave my picture!” Confused, Mason tells her she’s jumping way ahead, to which she answers back with resignation: “I just thought there would be more.”

This scene hits a chord and resonates with me until now, for it highlights my suspicions about success — our definitions of it (an accumulation of goals being one) and if it, as we seem to believe, enables happiness. Because I’ve been there and heard the same confession from others: getting what you want and still feel lacking.

What I do know is when people recall their happy stories and assert their identity, they rarely speak of “getting” but rather of “doing.” At least this job reveals to me as much. Interviewing artists, writers, and musicians — picking their brains about their craft — affirms the pleasures of creation (an occasion to be truly in-the-moment). It’s the one constant source of joy for them.

—Full story on GIST.PH

'You're a man'

And of all the capitulations in his life, this was the one that seemed most like a victory. Never before had elation welled more powerfully inside him; never had beauty grown more purely out of truth; never in taking his wife had he tirumphed more completely over time and space. The past could dissolve at his will and so could the future; so could the walls of this house and the whole imprisioning wasteland beyond it, towns and trees. He had taken command of the universe because he was a man, and because the marvelous creature who opened and moved for him, tender and strong, was a woman.

—Richard Yates. Revolutionary Road. New York: Vintage Contemporaries, 2008.

I like stories where I can relate with all the characters. I am both Frank and April. I am even Maureen.

Gateway theater

I.

On the car ride home, right after watching a stage production of Green Day’s American Idiot, I thought of cats — the musical: on the one hand lambasted for its nonsense, if non-existent plot and sheer silliness (cats dancing and singing and fighting for a place in The Heavyside what?); and on the other hand loved by many, including me, for the playful poetry set to catchy tunes that can put today’s Top 40 to shame. American Idiot is quite the same: it’s less of a musical; more of a musical event.

Where the two shows dissociate is in tone, setting, intention, and everything else. The former is built in a fantastical world where you’re invited to have fun, while the latter is anchored in real life, in the now, and asks that you take it seriously.

Right off the bat it makes a statement. News reels and advertising clips flash on TV screens. The cast open their mouths and express aversion: “Don’t wanna be an American idiot.” Then we’re acquainted with lead characters Johnny, Will, and Tunny, who seem to be in their late 20s and are frustrated with the state of the nation, as well as their own lives, that they opt to leave for another city. Because maybe things will be better from thereon.

The first 15 minutes of American Idiot set up an expectation for a riveting story, as if telling the audience, Listen, we will discuss important matters — the personal, the political, love and war — it will be visceral. When Johnny and Tunny (Will has to stay behind after learning his girlfriend is pregnant) take the bus ride to The City, we hop along. But once they alight, their stories proceed in unclear directions, and we’re lost.

This gap in narration — or perhaps finding out in the end that it’s a simplistic narrative we’re following after all — weakens the emotional parts of the performances. Storytelling-wise, the characters haven’t gone through enough to earn their anger. It’s up to the actors, the creative team, and Green Day’s music to elicit sympathy from the audience.

II.

Theater advocates in the past few years have been on a crusade to develop the theater community — to produce diverse and quality shows, establish new outfits, and most of all attract more theater-goers. 9 Works Theatrical and Globe try a different approach by bringing theater to the people. The two companies are staging American Idiot to christen the Globe Iconic Store at Bonificaio High Street in Taguig City and showcase the strengths of the venue — huge HD billboards, impeccable sound and light systems, and accessibility.

The Globe Iconic Store is right at the BHS Amphitheater, flanked by rows of stores and restaurants. As an open area, passers-by and non-ticket holders can catch the show — something that both 9 Works Theatrical and Globe encourage. Because the goal is to engage the unengaged and keep them hooked. The ambition recalls the concept of gateways in popular culture (gateway bands, book gateways): that which lured you into diving into the unknown.

Despite its shortcomings, American Idiot is the piece that can do the job for theater. Who wouldn’t stop upon hearing the impassioned drum beats of Are we the waiting? And linger because even though it’s been overplayed on the radio (and over-memed on the internet), they’d like to hear Wake me up when September ends once more. I won’t dare call it an attempt at nostalgia, for that’s a cheap trick and American Idiot is not pulling it. Instead, the show reminds everyone the genius of Green Day.

To listen to the band’s music is to ride a horse on a run: it’s fast, proud, and wild; but somehow you know you won’t fall and you’ll gladly go wherever it goes. Where it slows down and gaits, it proves that punk rock is no stranger to elegant melody — something that the stage adaptation has successfully brought out.

The different voices and arrangements reveal a whole new dimension to the Green Day songs. It must help that the cast is composed of professional actors and musicians. Wolfgang frontman Basti Artadi fit the bill as the charismatic but dangerous St. Jimmy, the alter-ego of Johnny (played by former Rivermaya frontman Jason Fernandez). Also in the mix is Chicosci lead vocalist Miggy Chavez, who plays Will and sings with clarity and pathos.

A clear standout, though, is Yanah Laurel, who — and I will be crucified for this — steals the rockstar crown from Artadi. With her voice and stage presence, she powers through the loud instruments and cacophony of lights. When she inquires, “Where have all the bastards gone?” you feel like scrambling for answers.


III.

Before the show started, Globe presented a short film communicating its foray into live entertainment. Sounds blasted, digital images swim in the billboard screens on each side of the stage, and laser lights danced in the dark (did I just describe the last EDM party you attended?). All this technology was employed in American Idiot.

The mood was festive and for a time I was convinced that I was in fact watching a concert; and that’s enough to keep someone like me arrested. Director Robbie Guevara and the actors admit that performing outdoors — exposed to the elements and a hesitant crowd — is a challenge. But they’re on a mission to win audiences and they won’t have it any other way.

If there’s one thing 9 Works Theatrical and Globe are truly pioneering in this production, it’s undermining the snobbishness associated with theater. Here, theater is just among the visitors’ many distractions, outright competing for attention. It’s funny when you think about it, but that’s the reality, and we can rest easy knowing how distractions can escalate into passions.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

Built to last

Collage by Sean Eidder

Everyone, at least on social media, seems to ask if everlasting love still exists. The question has become so repetitive that it no longer is a question but a dictum: Walang forever.

I think otherwise. Happiness doesn’t get a lot of press, and if it does, it only tells the treacly portion of the story. What we fail to see in every well-lighted photograph of a couple locked in an embrace are the long fights they had just days before, the doubts in their head, and the arduous path they took to know and rediscover each other.

It’s a shame that our schools don’t teach us about making a relationship work — that it takes actual hard work, that love doesn’t simply fall on our laps and stay on fire just because we will it to. That’s why I’m going to stop here, because my knowledge on the matter is suspect. Instead allow me to send a salute to all the married and about-to-be-married couples out there by way of a playlist.

Here’s to those of you who dare commit to a lifetime with someone who was once (and still is) a stranger, and in doing so make immeasurable, and previously unimaginable, sacrifices. You are the true radicals.



—Originally published on GIST

Thinking inside the black box

It’s very exciting for artists to see an empty space,” said Ed Lacson Jr. after recounting the diverse, if not divergent productions that came to life at the barely one-year-old Power Mac Center Spotlight, where he serves as theater manager.

The 400-sqm. black box theater was built to complete Ayala Land’s hip lifestyle and entertainment district Circuit Makati and complement the 1,500-seater performing arts theater soon to rise within the development. “A black box is basically an empty space that any artist can use, whether for performing or visual arts. It’s a canvas that they can transform however they want to,” explained Lacson. “Its difference from a proscenium type of theater is the seating, which can be adjusted in whatever configuration you want.”

And like the blank page, the limits of which are defined by the writer, Power Mac Center Spotlight has been utilized by creative minds in various disciplines. Other than the expected plays and musicals, the venue has hosted talks, product launches, even Christmas parties in the past. Power Mac Center Spotlight has seen artist Christina Dy celebrate her birthday with a live performance; poet Juan Miguel Severo recite verses to an army of spoken word and OTWOL fanatics; and the Manila Symphony Orchestra play unplugged.

“There’s no limit to the type of event; we even had a graduation,” added Lacson. Small and flexible, a black box theater inspires freedom while allowing intimacy — something that both performer and audience relish. Its very structure invites experimentation and forces attention that even Filipino rock band The Black Vomits chose to stage their modern rock opera The Gray Ground here.

At The Gray Ground rehearsals

Created by writer, artist and The Black Vomits bassist Igan D’Bayan, The Gray Ground follows Jan, who’s in the throes of writer’s block while desperately writing a literary masterpiece; and features a song cycle described by D’Bayan as “the band members’ love letter to the rock opera and the concept album.”

“To be honest, I wanted to stage The Gray Ground in a bar or in a small dingy space — with beer, eerie green lights, and patient ears. The play, for lack of a better word, is more dialogue-­driven and our music moves the story forward. But once I started developing the protagonist Jan and rethinking the Kafkaesque, Lynchian, Black Mirror-­like world that he lives in, we decided to stage the play in a proper black box theater, a decision that led us to Circuit Makati,” shared D’Bayan.

“The venue is a tabula rasa,” he continued. “It’s up to director Bianka Bernabe, stage designer Marco Ortiga of The Crucible, Ruel Caasi of TWA (The Working Animals), and the students of the College of Saint Benilde (CSB) School of Design and Arts to transform Power Mac Center Spotlight into Jan’s weird and wonky world. Ayala Land and Circuit Makati were very open to our ideas and have been really supportive.”

“We’re supporting The Gray Ground because it’s a unique project,” said Mel Ignacio of Ayala Land. “And we also like it when the students are involved. CSB is very near; it’s the community that we want to cater to. We want the people to stay, live, work, and play in Makati. We want the people in the area to know about the venue and that’s what Igan’s show can do.”

How the team behind The Gray Ground will make the workings of a writer’s (blank) mind a compelling drama and at the same time bring rock opera into the local audience’ consciousness, we have yet to find out. But Lacson couldn’t wait for the ride: “I was looking at their designs. It was very forward, very avant-garde. They have a mosh pit together with the regular seats. I think it’s an exciting way to use the space.” he said.

“If we had a proper budget, we’d aim for something like Faust (2006) — something ordinary infringed by something gothic with lots of shadows, masked figures and supernatural reds,” shared D’Bayan. “Now, it’s more of an ‘imagined space.’ If we do our jobs, the audience­ members would really be transformed into the Gray Ground, with an area code between everywhere and nowhere.”

It’s easy to say the opposite of Lacson’s previous statement and still be right: It’s very scary — frustrating? unappetizing? — for artists to see an empty space. And this dichotomy between emptiness and creation, sharing (if not coming from) the same space is what makes Power Mac Center Spotlight and The Gray Ground quite a match. As D’Bayan explained, “What The Black Vomits will present in The Gray Ground is just one story swimming in a sea of stories. But in our tale, the devil is a blank computer screen for a man suffering from writer’s block — and space is where the next story is coming from.”

—Originally published in The Philippine STAR

Ataska

My elementary life was a period in history I’d rather not go back to and attending the press launch of Annie the Musical at Resorts World Manila reminded me of all those years spent with a confusing mix of girls — the shy ones, the quiet but not exactly timid ones, the loud but harmless ones, the loud and annoying ones, the bullies, and everything in between. I wasn’t looking at my former school mates, I was observing the cast of Full House Theater Company’s production of Annie.

Now a little older, you’d think I’d know how to handle myself. But children and teens will forever be a mysterious and surprising species. I had no idea what to expect being among them, and they always manage to catch me off-guard.

Case in point: Ataska Mercado, who, forgive me for the stereotype, would probably be sitting at the cool table in high school. The 14-year-old has done several stage plays in the past with Kids Acts Philippines (The Wizard of Oz, Hansel and Gretel, Peter Pan), but her early claim to fame must be through singing competition The Voice Kids, where she joined and got a three-chair turn — meaning all coaches found something special about her. She’s currently a model and has landed a recording deal with Viva Entertainment, Inc.

Good looks and talent are already a given in that room, but Ataska carried herself with a certain spunk. No wonder she snagged the role of Pepper in the musical. Make no mistake, though, she didn’t go all bossy and know-it-all on me. In fact she was as sweet and warm as can be. What converted me into a fan, though, was her intelligence and social awareness.

Here she is talking about her role, and then some.

GIST: How did you prepare for the auditions?

ATASKA MERCADO: Lots of vocalizing and stretching. We learned all four songs from Annie: Maybe, Tomorrow, You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile, and Hard Knocked Life.

What is it about Annie that makes you want to be a part of it?

I like the music and the script’s amazing. The story’s great because it talks a lot about the government during the Great Depression in America. Even if it was the Great Depression, Annie was still optimistic and positive that she will find her parents. That energy — Annie’s energy influences everyone.

How much of Pepper do you resonate with?

I’ve always wanted to be in Annie the Musical since I was younger and I wanted to play Annie. But as I grew older, I wanted to play Pepper, because she’s the cool one, the though one. And I’m really tough. But she’s a bully, so I don’t relate to that. I love everyone in real life (laughs).

Who was the first person you called when you learned you got the part?

The first ones I called were my Dadsie Vehnee, my manager and composer and my Momsie Ladine, his wife and my voice coach. I also auditioned with my best friend, so I also told her that I got the role. Then I told my grandparents, whom I love very much; my ninongs, my ninangs; my titos, my titas…

Is this your biggest role yet?

Yes, because Annie is such a big thing, it’s such a loved musical by everyone, worldwide.

Who’s your idol when it comes to acting?

Coach Lea Salonga. And I love Ms. Menchu (Lauchengco-Yulo), she really inspires us. And Direk Michael (Williams). They’re just so inspiring. They help us be the best actors that we can.

What kind of music do you listen to?

I listen to a lot of indie music.

—Originally published on GIST

*

Update: January 23, 2017

Meeting this girl is definitely a 2016 highlight. She's proof that age doesn't matter when it comes to human connection.

2 minutes into our conversation and I'm in love with this girl. @a.taska giving a sample of her favorite Pepper line. #AnnieTheMusical

A video posted by Razel Estrella (@fishpeep) on May 30, 2016 at 10:39pm PDT

Designated jazzmaster

Rave was — and to some extent remains — an unfamiliar ground to me, and that’s because my participation in activities involving one has always been at a minimal. I first encountered the term in college, circa 1999, when Malate could practically be named Street Party District. My curiosity (and outgoing friends) led me to the “in” clubs and “it” crowds, but my inner homebody found no reason to stay.

Fast forward to 2012: EDM artist Zedd came out with Spectrum and Find You, two mainstream ear worms that had a “feat. Matthew Koma” appended to their titles. Later on I’d see the same name featured in dance tracks I would play on repeat. It turns out the man is a singer, songwriter, producer — and a DJ to boot — who gives soulful acoustic performances.

Matthew Koma served as a Northern Star when it came to negotiating my way through the loud and variegated world of electronic dance music, leading me to more interesting artists and soundscapes that made me want to linger. His songs, whether he sang, wrote or produced them, made clubbing at first a tolerable and eventually an exciting experience. It became similar to watching a concert — there’s the music to look forward to.

Thanks to Gerard Lopez for capturing this moment with Matthew Koma.
(This can be an inadvertent advert for the Vivo V3 Max. Ha.)

“I think it’s always been a huge genre. Commercially it’s become viable, especially in America in the context of radio, because it’s evolved into something that is song-driven, and the production has become super interesting as well,” offered Matthew when asked why EDM has flourished over the past half-decade.

As to whether or not the genre gets the respect along with the attention it deserves (EDM is often associated with mindless beats), Matthew said, “It’s always hard to talk about music or art in relation to respect. They all deserve respect. It’s people pouring their hearts into whatever it is they do, whether it’s painting or making music.”

Speaking of heart, his own creative process is a sort of romance — at least that’s how I’d like to interpret it. I’ve always wanted to know if singer-songwriters are ever jealous of their songs and for Matthew, the answer is no. “You fall in love with every song during the process of creating it. It’s not until a week or three years later that you realize your relationship with it, whether you love it eternally or you hate it eternally, or you’re indifferent,” he explained. “So I never feel very precious about it. They all kind of have lives of their own. It’s a ‘what will be will be’ sort of mentality. Let some songs go and fly with other people, and let some be yours.”

Matthew has worked with a diverse group of artists (a collaboration with Shania Twain is next on his list) and if there’s one thing he learned from them, it’s openness. “The coolest thing I’ve seen in artists who have the most integrity, the most sense of self, is that they’re always students. They’re always open to challenging what they do or know, and it’s not in a way that makes them inauthentic but in a way that allows them to grow,” he shared. “That’s a cool thing to remember, that it’s okay to try different things, and that it’s okay to succeed in some of them and not succeed in some of them.”



The 29-year-old musician has been in the industry for quite a while, but he only decided to release his own record early next year. “It kind of decides itself when it’s ready and when it’s done. A record is a snapshot of time. When there’s a body of message to deliver, you’ll know when you have to put that out and move on to the next chapter,” he said, adding that his presence in the scene is a blessing and a curse. “I have a lot of songs out that people have this perception of who I am and what I do,” he continued. “‘Does it live up to that? Does it feel like a continuation of that? Is it separated enough?’ There are so many things that go through people’s minds before even hearing the album. You have to take the extra step of having to overcome that.”

He reminded us how it felt to get high on music and dance when he returned to Manila on May 27 to spin at the Chaos Nightclub, City of Dreams. It was almost 2 a.m. and while I still had the stamina of a 20-year-old, I was anxious to see him perform. When I was no longer conscious of waiting, he came. There were no introductions, no dramatic darkness, no long, tormenting silence. Next thing I knew, Find You was playing and I — we — lost it.

That collective dizziness once the DJ drops that song — here you are among strangers, for a brief moment speaking the same language, surrendering to the same force — nothing beats that. From thereon he labored as if desperate to please (or was it to possess?) his audience. If we didn’t know the song, he made us like it.

He brought the house down, and did so with neither the fancy light works nor the mind-blowing graphics — the impressive productions Matthew spoke of — which define current EDM parties. Hours before his show, I asked him out of fun what “DJ” stands for and he retorted rather quickly, “Designated Jazzmaster.” That night, he might have shown me what he meant.

—Originally published in a different version on GIST.PH

Little paintings

LA-based painter Nate Frizzell and I share something in common: last year saw our introduction to murals — him making it and me seeing (not looking at) it. The experience was courtesy of LeBasse Projects, Honeycomb Communities and Bonifacio Arts Foundation, Inc., who initiated the ArtBGC Mural Festival.

To me, creating murals is putting life to an otherwise dull wall, adding any form of emotion to the cold concrete that makes a city. If they should say anything more that, I have no idea. And neither do Nate. “I worry about that,” he replied when I asked what makes a mural work — if it should suit its environment and if it should leave comment. “If there were more time, I’d love to shoot local kids running and playing in the city, so that I’d have that kind of reference. But other than that, I think it’s good to have something completely outside of the area. If this keeps going, if the city gets covered with more art from around the world, it’s going to be amazing in the next few years and it’ll be totally different from anywhere else around the world.”

Nate is among the group of international artists invited to lend their talents and paint the walls of BGC’s skyscrapers and quiet nooks. Because he had always been confined to the galleries, he hesitated to paint a mural at first. What convinced him to become part of ArtBGC? “Just a trip to the Philippines made me say yes,” he shared.

Where his companions filled up meters upon daunting meters of walls with colors, Nate let space be space. “I didn’t know what I was doing,” he said, recalling his debut in the festival and the art form. “Everyone had this giant wall and it was going to be impressive, and I was just going to do these little paintings.” These little paintings called to the crowd, though, as if telling them, Share this space with me. “When I kept going, I saw the people’s reactions and how intimate they could be. You actually have to go to the wall and interact with. Unlike the giant walls where you have to go across the street just to see what’s going on. And I liked how personal it became.”

Since then he was hooked, did a couple of murals in LA and now he’s back to do more at BGC for the festival’s sophomore run. “In the art gallery, it’s sterilized. There’s no touching. Here I like that you can go touch it, interact and play with it. It’s a lot more fun,” he said.

One of his most photographed works is that of the young boy standing in front of a bear. “When you go look at the bear with the kid, the kid has his leg up on the wall. And if you look at the wall, it’s completely dirty because everyone goes up and puts their foot up on the wall,” Nate said, amused by how the artwork pulls people in.

And why wouldn’t they be drawn? Whether it’s our innate fascination with animals, or our beastly core responding to the sight of the undomesticated hanging about in the civilized world, Nate’s pawed, clawed, and fanged friends easily become ours as well.

Nate has used animal heads as masks in many of his works. “When I first started, I liked painting figures but I thought it was odd for people to have these strangers in their house,” he explained. “At first I used masks so that people can connect with it more instead of just painting a stranger — so they can put themselves in the painting.”

This high regard for inspiring intimacy must’ve made him and his murals a favorite among onlookers. It’s not only passers-by who get curious about his works, but people from faraway cities looking at photos of his paintings. Many of them ask the exact location of a certain mural — and we’re not telling. Because it’s a nice surprise if you find it on your own.

Nate has hidden gems all over BGC. If you happen to bump into a young girl in a floral dress or a bird perching atop a spray paint can, and you feel something inside you stir, thank Nate.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

I made a mixtape

To remember the weekend we met.

Deeper the second time around

My new — newfound to be exact and I shall explain later — musical obsession is Hurts.

I miss the way I discovered their music: radio's on, songs play in the background, my mind, elsewhere when a sweet passage jumped out and called my attention.

I can't remember though if it was the chorus or the verses that made me stop what I was doing to figure out the words being sung, that I may commit it to memory and later on research the lyrics, title and artist, in case the DJ wouldn't say it.

No, it was the verses. The almost glacially slow-rap by which the singer tells an intriguing story about some girl named Susie. —And it was the percussions. The song was Wonderful Life, the artist was Hurts.



Bought the album, listened to it, didn't buy the rest of the tracks.

What year this was, I forgot.

But there definitely was no Instagram yet at the time (or I haven't been on it yet), because it was through this medium that I rediscovered Hurts. I stumbled upon Theo Hutchcraft's account and followed. If I may — this is my blog — I'd usually have a sexual attraction to someone I find beautiful. But there's something about Theo that I haven't fantasized ripping his clothes off. He's so — ethereal, unreal.

Aside from artistic shots of himself, there was a steady stream of concert photos. Hurts was performing in packed arenas. A surprise to me who thought of them as one-hit-wonders.

If they're touring, that means they have fresh music. The next step I took led me to fall in love with the band the way I didn't but should have when I first heard them.



Surrender makes me dance (Lights), weep (Wish, Wings), hope (Perfect Timing). I don't want to be in bed in Theo, I yearn to be in a stadium where Hurts is playing and I am bumping bodies with strangers (Some Kind of Heaven).

Sexy 3

You're so sexy, and I'm not just talking about your brain.

Missteps

For every undergraduate who dies a little when the alarm clock says it’s time to go to school, there is a student who jumps out of the bed, looking forward to another day in class. The classroom, for them, is a place to be inspired, challenged — and be themselves.

This isn’t high school or college we’re talking about, but a kind of schooling that only involves the most willing participants. These are the guitar lessons taken over the weekend by a once-aspiring musician now playing for his own pleasure; the graphic design tutorials attended by a publisher expanding his horizons; the summer acting workshops where the timid blooms into a captivating actor.

In this classroom is an intriguing mix of people, whose common denominator is a passion for the same subject. They have divergent backgrounds and distinct motivations for being there. One is painfully shy, the other boisterous. One is full of dreams, the other, of regrets. Somewhere, unbeknownst to everyone else, a secret alliance — or perhaps a romance — is forming. Outside, the teacher becomes a friend and the students extend their lessons.

These nuances are laid out in Richard Harris’ 1984 musical comedy Stepping Out, with music by Denis King and lyrics by Mary Stewart-David. Seven ladies and one gentleman meet every Thursday for a tap dance class under former Broadway star Mavis. There is no big plot here. Instead, we see an interweaving of the students’ and their teacher’s lives inside and outside of the dance hall. It’s a musical that runs on melodious, feel-good songs with words that hit home and characters that you recognize and root for.

 To close its 79th season, Repertory Philippines stages Stepping Out, directed by Jaime del Mundo and choreographed by Rose Borromeo. Leading the cast is veteran Joy Virata. Those who’ve been following her would delight in her role as the eccentric Englishwoman, wearing skimpy outfits (yes she does!) and blurting out the most honest, and therefore funniest, lines. “That’s what I like about you, you don’t try.”

She’s joined by Bituin Escalante, who’s practically pitch-perfect in everything she does onstage. But her role as the vivacious Rose is a personal favorite so far. Aside from Escalante’s impeccable comedic timing and stage presence, her lower register lends the songs a whole new dimension, especially the early showstopper Don’t Ask Me and the coquettish What Do Men Think.

I often hear colleagues wishing to go back to school or develop a new skill, and Stepping Out reminds me of this desire not only to learn but to do something entirely for oneself — and how sad it is to feel trapped. In a way, the musical mimics — almost to a heartbreaking degree — the realities of this dance called life.

The characters are colorful, yes, but are also ordinary. They worry about the usual things: love (“I want love, I need love, much too much”), success (“Chasing the glitter I never had”); change (“I would love to change but maybe it’s too soon or maybe it’s too late”). Even the class’s dance numbers don’t aspire to excellence (spoiler: the students won’t turn into master tap dancers as you may predict). What they offer is a promise that they’ll work as a unit and give their darn best to their performances.

Stepping Out is a welcome alternative to the massive productions running this month. Here is a show that’s deceptively simple and light-hearted on the surface. It is a poignant story charged with dry humor, awkward dancing, memorable music, and piercing dialogues. Trust me, their conversations are our conversations. Their missteps, no different than yours.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

Strip, tease

When the day is long and the night is mine alone, I fantasize about performing a striptease for a guy I fancy. He can be a friend’s friend, an almost lover, or the boy on TV. I dream up yellow lights and faint music. I picture awe, wonder and hunger in his face. I also imagine a different self: me but not quite like me — someone limber, leaner, with flawless, poreless skin.

Any person who claims to have zero body image problems is lying. Youth is no guarantee of perfection and adulthood does not come with a kinder attitude towards oneself. Self-help articles, another’s affirmation, and the acceptance of people who matter can take away this doubt (and to an extreme, disgust) we harbor against our bodies. And sometimes watching others move so comfortably in their skin, doing what you wouldn’t expect them to, allows you to look at yourself with more loving eyes. Such is the case with burlesque.

Last February, DopeLoco brought Manila its first neo burlesque show, Eyes Wide Shut. For those who haven’t seen burlesque in their lives or have no idea what it is, producer Shaun Hines assures us that Eyes Wide Shut is the real deal — at least a version of it: “Burlesque comes in different forms as far as the way that the story is told. Sometimes it’s very comedic, sometimes it’s satirical, sometimes it’s more theatrical,” he says. It’s nothing like the “burles” we grew up with (nudity for nudity’s sake). Shaun further explains, “Burlesque is artful striptease that’s done for a woman to take control of her own sexuality, take pride in her body and who she is, put her talent to great use, and to tell a story.”

We hear this all the time. Owning who you are — warts, cellulites, jiggly arms and all. But oftentimes they’re said by people we don’t recognize: those whose faces grace the covers of magazines and all we could think of is, “Easy for you to say.” In Eyes Wide Shut, the men and women don’t say but rather dance the message. Truth is, the most shocking part of the show for me was when women whom we’d peg as either “too thin,” “too heavy,” or “too ordinary-looking” to do anything remotely sexy come out as the most seductive individuals in the room, unmasking their faces and uncovering themselves in front of strangers. As Shaun says, they’re in control of their bodies — and, I must add, the audience.

A warning to those awaiting nudity: It’s not that kind of show. “It’s really just meant to be a tasteful and artful exploration of sexuality in storytelling,” says Shaun. The performers strip off their garments, one piece at a time, and just when you think (or hope) that the performance will culminate with the dancers removing every last item of their clothing, they instead offer a complex dance routine, a surprise trick, or a twist in the story.

What Eyes Wide Shut taught me is that burlesque is one event where the body can be at its most eloquent and dignified. It’s a pleasure to watch a dance, to follow a story, to witness drama, and to be teased. Burlesque is a fusion of all these, the body at its center.

“I feel like this city is ready for it despite popular belief,” shares Shaun, referring to the show’s reception on its first night. “We had an amazing audience here for a first-time burlesque show.” The third and final Eyes Wide Shut performance will be on April 2 at The Gallery at A Space, Makati City (tickets here). If you’re interested but are not quite sure on how to behave during the performance, Shaun has a few reminders:

1) The main thing is to have respect. Again this isn’t a strip club.

2) It’s very much okay to throw money. A lot of these peformers, they don’t make a lot of money and they spend a lot on wardrobe. It is encouraged for the audience to tip.

3) You’re supposed to cheer, to howl, to encourage them. But always in a respectful manner.

4) And the number one rule is to not touch them. It’s not that type of place. It’s not that type of event.

Shaun envisions a beginning of a community. “Manila Burlesque is something that the performers really want for other people to get involved in one way or another,” he shares, adding that Burlesque 101 workshops are in the works. To know more about them, visit facebook.com/ManilaBurlesque. “We’ll start doing announcements there and anyone that’s interested, please reach out and just keep in mind that this is about owning who you are, being comfortable in your own skin. You don’t have to be a model.”

*

A striptease playlist:



—Originally published on GIST

The sound, the vision, The 1975

From black-and-white to blue neon and pink

When artists discuss their creative process, the poets their poetics, you have to restrain yourself from listening if only to avoid disappointment; because more often than not, the theory ends up more elegant than the practice. A reason that when The 1975 announced the release date of “I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it” months ago and interviews with the band about it surfaced here and there, I felt an equal amount of thrill and fear: Finally! But. Will the build-up — which began with a dramatic sequence of social media posts suggesting a breakup, followed by a stream of song titles and lyrics teasers alongside hints of a new color palette — be more beautiful than the album itself?

The Manchester-based fourpiece composed of Matty Healy (vocals, guitar), George Daniel (drums), Adam Hann (guitar), and Ross MacDonald (bass) has delivered something attractive in their self-titled debut album, “The 1975”: music that’s “very now” in a sense that it consciously defies definition (either that or I don’t have the vocabulary for it yet). For their sophomore outing, Healy shares that the record is “a distillation” of everything they’ve done before. And again it will have no regard for any arc or cohesiveness whatsoever. “My generation consumes music in this completely non-linear way and we reflect that, we create how we consume,” he adds. “Why create one type of music when nobody consumes one type of music?” The band is also going for a live experience unlike anything they’ve done before, with sets and visuals that pass for art installations. Will the band’s vision come to fruition?

Digression: The way I see it, we’re at a point where we do not just buy (pay money for and be convinced of) a record, but everything that’s attached to it: the music video, the artist’s backstory (a.k.a. personal life), the live performances, even the fandom and their conversations. Each of these elements influence each other as well as our appreciation of them. Sometimes I find myself enjoying a song I wouldn’t listen to on the radio when I hear it in a concert, what with a grand stage production, not to mention the crowd’s contagious energy. What I’m saying is, while they make for great entertainment, at the end of the day, I’ll still pay for music that I can be stranded on an island with.

When you look at The 1975 fans — so-called screaming teeny boppers indistinguishable from One Direction supporters — you’d think you’re in the wrong crowd, but that’s to insult the 15-year-olds out there and your once 15-year-old self, who knew exactly what tasteful music was. When you look at the band, they are rockstars in form — magnetic frontman, mysterious guitarist, leather jackets, nonchalance. They’ve got all the trappings of celebrity and artistic air but the good news is if you take all these away, lock yourself in a room and turn the lights off, they have the sound to keep your attention.

As previously expressed, songs in “I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it” are diverse. One moment you expect to hear gospel (The Ballad of Me and My Brain), the next moment you’re arrested by a trap-infused tune (Loving Someone), and in another moment it’s like a tragic romance film score is playing (Please Be Naked). Then there are the familiar The 1975 melodic sing-alongs (She’s American — reminiscent of Settle Down and This Must Be My Dream — a personal favorite).

Yet its strength is not in its diversity, but rather in its technical merits. As in the first album and past EPs, we have a kaleidoscope of songs that are simply well-written and arranged that you can play them on repeat and as a bonus fit into various playlists (from “sexy time” and “heartbreak” to “party” and “workout”).

If The 1975 ever felt pressure working on the “difficult second album,” I shared a degree of it. As a fan I wanted the band to succeed and evade a sophomore slump. So far I’m a satisfied customer looking forward to get out of my room and watch them perform with the entire fandom. For now it’s back to listening to the 17-track album and reading up the reviews and more interviews. You’ve got to love musicians who can and willingly articulate their thought process. There are only a few of them.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

Almost, Maine and the business of subverting cliches

Judging by the title and poster — a cartoony rendition of a snowbound world with nothing but an empty bench, a few pine trees, and the words “almost” and “maine,” separated by a comma, written in child’s cursive (the i dotted with a heart) — Repertory Philippines’ Almost, Maine seems like a story that disguises depth with light-hearted humor. It almost is.

A man and a woman sit side by side on the familiar bench and discuss distance. Girl thinks they are, at that moment, closest to each other, while guy argues the exact opposite. Nothing else is presented to the audience that merits any further reading of the situation. It is as literal as it can get. And we’re interested.

What follows are eight vignettes about people in and out of love in the town of Almost, Maine. As a Valentine offering, Repertory Philippines brings the John Cariani play to Manila with actors Reb Atadero, Natalie Everett, Caisa Borromeo and Jamie Wilson taking on multiple roles under the direction of Bart Guingona (The Normal Heart).

“This is the first time I’m channeling my rom-com side,” says Guingona. “I’ve been known to do really complex, dark stuff, so when I read it, I went, ‘Whoa!’” Which is not to say that Almost, Maine is lacking in complexity and darkness — or perhaps Guingona together with the actors and creative team have already drawn out the play’s more thought-provoking facets.

This Hurts, for example, is a poignant exploration of love and pain through a handicapped man and his neighbor (though I’m curious about how you will like its ending). While Where it Went, where we learn how lovers drift apart, provides a cathartic shock of recognition with its sheer realism and relatability. “I decided that the play would be about loneliness and people overcoming it,” the director adds.

The entire narrative hinges on clichés and English idioms: a broken heart, which pieces jangle inside a paper bag, is fixed by a repairman; best friends falling for each other collapse repetitively on the ground; a shoe actually drops from the sky as a couple reaches an agreement. Given this, scenes can either spark philosophical musings where it works or leave a saccharine aftertaste where it doesn’t.

“That for me was a challenge, to try to not to make it cheesy, but at the same time bring out the cleverness of that whole conceit. That you’re getting a cliché being enacted literally. It gives elements of magic realism,” shares Guingona.

Some vignettes may also suffer from predictability, if not coming off as contrived. In Her Heart, an old love is named Wes, and a new love is named East. In Sad and Glad, a misspelled tattoo is suddenly given new meaning — too serendipitous (not to be true but) to be tasteful. Yet the obsession with turning a trope on its head is infectious. You’re compelled to guess what happens next and if it’s a complete surprise, the feeling is completely rewarding.

Almost, Maine tries to be a lot of things — whimsical, smart, profound, touching — and in doing so falls short in becoming sublime in any of them. It deserves to be seen, however, for its structure and ambition, most of all for this production’s talented cast, crew, and director, who have done their best to subvert clichés, love being the tritest of them all.

—Originally published on GIST

Jon Santos FTW

Elsewhere — meaning in the UK and US — stand-up comedians can reach celebrity, even rockstar status and fill up theaters, music halls, and, if they’re truly great, stadiums. To elicit laughter is one thing, but to make an idea linger in the audience’ minds (and on the side, charm) is quite another. The best comedians do both.

In the Philippines, Jon Santos ranks high on the list of successful, not to mention enduring comedians, regularly holding live performances that draw a loyal crowd. He is appreciated for comedy with class and intelligence — far from the usual fare dished out at comedy clubs. Jon’s a master at impersonation, wordplay, and making connections where we didn’t find any.

His latest offering is the political comedy HuGot Your Vote! WTF: Wala Talagang Forever (Sa Malacañang), where the most controversial individuals vying for a seat at the government are put on the hot seat — that is, parodied by Jon.

He brings his act a little closer to the south, in a new venue: the Ceremonial Hall of Marriott Hotel Grand Ballroom at Resorts World Manila in Pasay City, and he makes sure that there’s a joke about the posh establishment’s location. The Ceremonial Hall, while brand new, is not without flaws. WTF’s premiere experienced a few technical WTFs (faulty microphones, sound disturbances), which Jon, the pro that he was, managed and used as part of a routine.

As expected, relevant issues were brought to the fore. A show highlight was the Grace Poe interview in which Jon takes on the senator’s persona, answering questions about her birth, parents, and political ambitions. What we had to discover about her father was comedy gold. The current brouhaha over champion boxer and senatorial aspirant Manny Pacquiao’s anti-gay comments didn’t escape Jon’s attention as well. Even the Material Girl, who’s mounting her very first concert in the country next week, became material for WTF. Jon impersonated Madonna and used her to introduce the show’s theme: express yourself this elections season.

Still, it was Jon’s Miriam Defensor Santiago and Erap Estrada that brought the house down. Old jokes (classics now, it seems) with the two were repeated, though they remained as hilarious as ever. Who didn’t crack a smile at Miriam’s bad grammar horror story, or Erap’s conjugation lessons? You can bet those who’ve heard them before were pleased to have heard them again.

To wrap up the evening, he shed his other skins and stood up simply as Jon giving a literal A to Z of the nation’s problems, one of which is our obsession with Valentine’s Day: “Araw ng mga puso… Bakit walang araw ng mga utak?” He may be famous as a quick-change comedian, but Jon is as effective as himself delivering the goods — made out of bad news.

Though he called out the politicians’ BS through his jokes, Jon never hit below the belt (or maybe he did, it’s just that he did it so well that none cried foul). The political satire barely had traces of cynicism and was in fact charged with positive energy. If anything, there was only a tinge of melancholy towards the end, where he suggested that these politicians may not be the punchline after all but the voting public.

It’s true. Wala tagalagang forever, but is it too much to ask for a few more minutes of Jon Santos? An hour-and-a-half is not enough.

—Originally published on GIST

Live and let live solo

Today is another day resigned to going about your business as an ordinary human being, with no intentions to ruffle feathers, let alone draw unwanted attention. Then it happens: you arouse suspicion when asked to divulge your relationship status and declared, “Single.”

You’ve been in this situation many times before. In the restaurant, where, booking a table, the receptionist says, “For one?” not only to clarify the request but also to pry: Why are you eating alone? In the movie theater, where the coldness of the empty seats around you have nothing on the icy stares directed at you. And in the various social gatherings, where, upon discovery of your singleness, new acquaintances dissect you like a frog.

Somehow it’s hard to conceive the possibility of living with neither romantic attachments nor desire for matrimony. That one can nd joy and meaning sans spouse, so-called signi cant other, and children.

The suspicion then turns into pity, especially since having a life partner has always been the idealized status, and the search for The One deemed a basic human hunger. Love between two people and the reality of a soul mate are standard themes in pop songs. Leading characters in a TV series are bound to develop sexual chemistry and eventually end up together if the show ever extends its run. The losers in teen icks automatically become the cool kids after scoring a girlfriend (in fact they were losers to begin with because they were alone).

All these send the message that if you’re single, something is wrong — mostly with you. Stereotypes thrown the single’s way are: too picky, self-centered, career-obsessed, emotionally unstable, sad and unattractive. These descriptions not only come from the outside but also from within the solo yer, because again, we are told that “single = not normal.”

Beyond the tags, however, single men and women experience unfair treatment in the workplace and in the market because of their status. Studies in the US show that all things beings equal (age, income, background), majority of renters prefer couples or a group of friends over a single renter. Married men are also more likely to get the job and earn more than his unmarried counterpart. And married couples get better insurance rates and employee benefits.

One striking issue raised by University of Denver Sturm College of Law professor Nancy Leong is people’s openness when it comes to their bias against single people. “When asked why they preferred to rent to married people…a majority of participants in the rental study stated simply: ‘because they’re married,’” she said in a 2014 article. “It is very dif cult to imagine that such a large number would have proclaimed that they preferred not to rent to black people ‘because they’re black,’ or to Jewish people ‘because they’re Jewish.’”

While the studies may have been done abroad, the same attitude and practices apply here. Perhaps a relatable example is at the of ce where single employees are expected to take the extra hours and work load without question. Solo diners may be asked to transfer tables to make way for a larger group. Hotels charge extra for single occupants. The list goes on.

Magna Carta of Singletons — that sounds funny. But are we convinced that singledom is viewed in a negative light and coupledom is the right and only option? Leong pointed out that “the dedication with which same-sex couples and their allies have fought for the right to marry demonstrates how important marriage is to many people. Yet others feel just as strongly about remaining single.” In the end she suggested that “the move toward equality for everyone who wishes to marry is cause for celebration. It also provides an opportunity to re ect on marital status more generally, and to look for ways to equalize those who wish to marry and those who don’t.”

Things can be complicated in the Philippines, which values the traditional family setup. The good news is that the LGBT community (long regarded as “others”) have been courageous and persistent in making their voices heard. The single ladies and gentlemen can take their cue from them — not exactly to stage rallies and lobby for laws, no, but to feel no shame in whatever state are in, whoever they choose to be, and not be pressured into taking others’ beliefs and principles as their own.

The fantasy is that someday party conversations will be kinder, with people asking each other personal questions out of genuine curiosity and not out of a need to form a character judgment. That we let each other take our time in guring out matters of the heart. That you can walk into a restaurant where you’ll be seated at a good spot, even if you ask for a table for one.

—Originally published on GIST.PH

A shade tacky, a fistful of fun

The good thing about bad books is they make for great parodies. In 2011, E.L. James’ Fifty Shades of Grey stirred up quite a buzz — for different reasons. For encouraging lascivious behavior, for not being raunchy enough, for getting BDSM wrong, for a character saying “My inner goddess is thrilled” and apparently meaning it, and for being an overall poorly written piece of literature.

You have to acknowledge, though, that whatever the critics say, Fifty Shades has its fair share of readers and drawing such passionate response from people, whether positive or negative, is always a point of interest. In fact when the negative reviews exploded, it aroused in me a curiosity: I need to read this. I need to be socially aware.

Given the books’ popularity, the inevitable happened: a movie adaption — which also received a collective thumbs down from critics and vocal viewers. But the appeal of Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele’s world is so strong that we’re still talking about it.

And the conversation is now taken to the stage. 50 Shades! The Musical Parody is that event where everyone can share a laugh over Grey’s excesses, Steele’s ignorance, and the readers who hang on to every word of the two’s love story.

The musical — produced by Marshall Cordell, Al Samuels, and Emily Dorezas; and
written by Dorezas and Samuels with Amanda Davis, Jody Shelton, Ashley Ward, and Dan Wessels — will run in Manila from Feb. 12 to Mar. 1 at the Carlos P. Romulo Auditorium in RCBC, Makati. After which the show will be toured in other Asian countries.

A musical seems a logical option. The format lends itself to gratuity, exaggerations, and downright ridiculousness. As they say, who breaks into song in real life anyway?

Speaking of songs, it’s the musical parody’s first problem. The lyrics and melodies are less than exciting, though it’s not without euphonic gems. A clear standout is the 11 o’clock number 50 Shades! (But maybe it’s thanks to the vocal chops and bravado of Kaitlyn Frotton, who plays one of the women engrossed in James’ novel and leads her fellow housewives in belting out this song.)

Red Room is another engaging number, which undermines the darkness and danger of Grey’s sex playground with its nursery-rhyme type of rhythm. There’s also Any Other Couple, which pokes fun at Grey and Steele’s unconventional way of showing love to each other through a duet that resembles pop karaoke ballads.

What’s risky about a parody is that it might become what it criticizes. 50 Shades! is guilty of jokes bordering on tacky — those which could’ve been told by your high school mate or little brother. But when it hits the mark, boy it’s laugh-out-loud, fall-off-your-seat hilarious.

If the musical succeeds in Manila, it will be because of its cast. Each one of them is talented, energetic, has brilliant comedic timing, and knows how to capture the audience’ attention. Most of all they believe so much in the material that you will end up getting convinced, too, and find yourself enjoying the ride.

There is no weak link in them, but special mention goes to Greg Kata for portraying a well-fed, horny, but distant Christian Grey. For its Manila run, local talents join the international cast, with Karel Marquez alternating with Brenna Wahl for the role of Anastasia Steele; Lorenz Martinez alternating with Kata for the role of Grey; Bituin Escalante, who plays one of the housewives alongside Frotton and Casey Rogers; George Schulze; and Julz Savard.

Escalante hopes that the musical will shake everyone up and have them in touch with their sexuality — just like what happens with the languid housewife that she plays. I think the show does a little bit of that. The stage isn’t short of attractive actors (spoiler: there will be nudity) and hearing R-18 words casually thrown in a comical context do get you out of your comfort zone, making you re-think your thoughts and feelings about taboo subjects like (spoiler) fisting.

As for the rest of the cast, they simply hope that the audience will have fun. I have no doubt they will.

—Originally published on GIST.PH