La Vie La Cage

Managed to catch La Cage Aux Folles by 9 Works Theatricals last Friday, and enjoyed it so much I simply had to do an encore for their final performance Sunday afternoon.

What to say, what to say, really?

First off, I thought the production was appropriately splendiferous. The glitter, the glam, the shimmer and sparkle of the titular, legendary St. Tropez cabaret was captured in the fabulous costumes, dazzling confections created by members of the Fashion Designers Association of the Philippines. The stage sets by Mio Infante also evoked the ambience of the French Riviera, both in the interiors of Chez Georges et Albin, and the exteriors representing the resort town of St. Tropez.

The choreography and music were energetic, impressive, and riveting. The Cagelles - singly and as a group - fulfilled their promise in the opening song "We Are What We Are" that "you'll love us once you get to know us." Indeed, how could you not love the breathless tap dancing, the raunchy can-can, and the various individual vaudeville acts ( Hannah from Hamburg, j'adore!) ?

Indeed, La Cage gets off to a grand, fabulous start, and sets off from there like a psychotic horse towards a burning stable. 

But the musical play wouldn't have endured as a Broadway favorite if it didn't have more than razzle-dazzle to offer. And at its heart, La Cage is a very human story about perception, discrimination, and the things we do for love.

For those who haven't seen The Birdcage, the 1996 movie adaptation starring Robin Williams and Nathan Lane, a short synopsis would be in order. Georges and Albin (aka Zaza) are old lovers: the owner/emcee and the star, respectively, of the bawdy and beautiful Club La Cage - a famous cabaret featuring a drag queen revue. Georges has a son - Jean-Michel - from a brief fling with a beautiful English dancer named Sybil, who abandoned the boy to the care of the gay couple. Albin has, together with Georges, brought up Jean-Michel as his own flesh-and-blood son.

Jean-Michel comes home from university one day and announces that he is planning to get married to a beautiful girl named Anne Dindon. There's just a petit crise - Anne's father is the notoriously ultra-conservative Monsieur Edouard Dindon, the head of the Family, Tradition, and Morality Party that has threatened to sweep the Riviera clean of "immoral" establishments - such as the Club La Cage.

Anne's parents are coming over to meet their prospective in-laws, and Jean-Michel, eager to get their approval, wishes to present a "normal" family facade to the Dindons. That means inviting over his biological mother, Sybil, to pose as his father's wife. But more than that, it also means getting rid of Albin - and everything he represents - for one night.

Heartache - and hilarity - ensues.

In the role of Georges, Michael de Mesa is a revelation. Primarily because at some 50-plus, he remains a stunningly good-looking man. And secondly, the veteran actor brings a winsome accessibility to the character (which has been portrayed more gruffly in the original 1973 French film, various Broadway productions, and the Hollywood version with Williams). de Mesa's vocal range can be limited - he can be heard straining in some of the numbers, and in others his voice threatens to dip into nothingness in the low notes - but the emotion behind his delivery more than makes up for it. As a matter of fact, for the more emotional numbers like "Look Over There," de Mesa's breaking voice adds a definite resonance to the song.

Because I don't watch TV nor follow the local showbiz news, I don't know Steven Silva from chopped liver, but as the lovestruck but misguided son Jean-Michel, he brings a youthful joie de vivre. His pleasant tenor encapsulates the hopefulness and naivete of young love in the upbeat ditty "With Anne On My Arm." And while the character can come across as an ungrateful jerk and a spoiled brat, somehow Silva's pleasant good looks leaven Jean-Michel's less-than-stellar personality flaws.

As Jean-Michel's objet d'amour, Missy Macuja-Elizalde (alternating with Joni Galeste), brings a combination of fresh-faced innocence and a certain continental je ne sais quoi to the Dindon ingénue. Macuja also does double-duty as one of the chorus girls, and her balletic pedigree certainly comes across in her very physical dance routines. Lisa Macuja's little girl has grown into a voluptuous young woman, and in a rather risqué outfit later on in the show, young Elizalde's patrician features, coupled with her full figure, reminded me of the riveting sensuality of Manet's Olympia. It would be interesting to see her tackle more daring and mature roles in the future.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention young but veteran thespian Noel Rayos. As Jacob, the family's unhinged butler/maid who desperately wishes for a chance to be a Cagelle, Rayos chews the scenery and threatens to upstage the principals as he struts through a series of hilarious costume changes. Jacob's entrances and exits are an outrageous parade of characters from various musicals, ranging from Little Orphan Annie to Cho-Cho San to the Mother Superior in Sound of Music. Rayos' Jacob is the comedy relief in a musical full of comic reliefs - a feat heroically performed by Hank Azaria as Agador in The Birdcage. Those are mighty big shoes to fill , but Rayos squeezes into those heels with madcap abandon, to the delight of the audience.

But of course, the star of the show is the Great Zaza/Albin, and Audie Gemora delivers a bravura performance. It's one of those transformative, transfixing star turns in which an actor inhabits the role so completely you stop seeing the actor and behold - and believe - the character instead. As Zaza la Diva, Gemora is all sassy bump n' grind burlesque, a confident queen holding court onstage. As the comically-fraught and hysterical Albin, he clearly takes his cue from Nathan Lane's take in The Birdcage, and he channels Lane's Albin not just through his acting and vocal performances, but he physically resembles Lane, as well. 

Gemora and de Mesa have great chemistry, and it was delightful to hear the audience so kilig over the lambings of this old gay couple. And that's one of the beautiful things about this musical: while it's very much a story involving gay men, it's not just a story about gay men. The longing, the love, the striving for acceptance while maintaining individual identity are universal themes, and the Gemora/de Mesa coupling manages to transcend the confines of sexual orientation. Their Georges and Albin come across to the appreciative audience as just another couple with their ups and downs, their silly little bickering and their big hurtful fights.

Just like "normal" people.

But while it takes two to tango, Gemora, a multi-awarded and veteran stage actor, is the heart and soul of this story, and delivers the evening's high point with his spare, wounded, powerful rendition of the musical's most famous song "I Am What I Am."

The song itself (from which the entire musical sprang) is familiar to anyone who's ever seen a drag revue or attended a Gay Pride parade, thanks to the commercial Gloria Gaynor version. But while the lyrics themselves speak of empowerment, in the context of the musical itself, "I Am What I Am" is more poignant, more vulnerable. Paradoxically, it's the pathos that makes the piece more potent.

There's a fascinating story about the song and how it gave birth to the whole musical:

Holt and Brown had produced the 1974 revival of Gypsy directed by Arthur Laurents, and they approached him with an offer to direct their new venture. Laurents was not a fan of drag or camp entertainment and thought Holt and Brown never would find enough investors to finance a gay-themed project at a time when, during the early years of the AIDS epidemic, homophobia was more intense than ever. He agreed only because Holt and Brown were close friends and he wanted them to remain on (Alan) Carr's payroll as long as possible, but his interest grew when he learned Harvey Fierstein and Jerry Herman had committed to the project.

According to Laurents, when he met with Fierstein and Herman for the first time, they had restored both the title and locale of the original play but had neither a script nor even an outline for the plot. All they had was the Herman song "I Am What I Am," and Laurents immediately envisioned it as an emotional outburst sung at the close of the first act. Laurents further claims that when he explained his concept to Fierstein and Herman, he inspired the direction they took in writing the musical. Herman tells a very different story in an interview included in the original cast CD. He claims that they were well into the collaboration when Fierstein arrived one day with an emotional fiery scene he had written for the end of Act I that included the words "I am what I am." Delighted, Herman asked to use the five words, boasting that he would have a song by morning, which he did.

It's no surprise that "I Am What I Am" has become a global anthem for gay pride. Its lyrics are affirmative, defiant, and empowering. Nevertheless, even in the creation of the musical, some concessions to the general heterosexual community (and sensibilities) had to be made:

With gay-activist Fierstein and the political Laurents on board, the show could have "become a polemic diatribe on gay rights." However, Herman was a moderating influence. Having suffered a series of disappointments with darker-themed shows since 1969, he was eager to score a hit with a mainstream, emotional, optimistic song-and-dance entertainment that middle-class audiences would enjoy. The team opted to create "a charming, colorful, great-looking musical comedy - an old-fashioned piece of entertainment," as Herman recalled in his memoir Showtune. By "delivering their sentiments in a sweetly entertaining manner," the team was able to convey their gay-themed message with more impact than they could have with a more aggressive approach.

La Cage Aux Folles opened on Broadway on August 21, 1983, and the rest is musical history. The original production won six out of nine Tony Award nominations, including Best Musical, Best Original Score, and Best Book of a Musical.

The local cultural scene was very busy first quarter: between the many offerings of the Fringe Arts Festival, and the various PETA and CCP productions, it was convenient for me that La Cage had a longish run. But if I had managed to catch La Cage when it opened last February, I would've probably seen it every weekend. 

It was just that fucking good. And the last time I felt this happy after seeing a musical, Wicked was still sweeping town.

Fortunately, there are rumors that La Cage Aux Folles will have another run sometime end of June? If rumors prove to be true, do be sure to catch this wonderful, funny, sentimental, and touching show, and bring your own outrageous entourage. It had a special resonance for me, not just as a gay man, but more pointedly as an ex-owner of a club that also featured cabaret performers and their wild antics, their big heartaches, and the general rambunctiousness and unpredictability that make life la vie la cage aux folles.*

To director Robbie Guevarra and everyone involved in the production: Brava!

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*La cage aux folles literally means "the cage of mad women." Folles is also slang for "effeminate men" aka "queens."

The more you know.

Something Wicked This Way Has Come

Caught Wicked on opening night last Wednesday.

What a wonderful way to open the 2014 cultural season.

Was apprehensive about technical glitches, it being opening night and all, but apart from a flying monkey's wings not opening all the way, everything went fabulously.

The two leads evoked the original duo - Menzel and Chenoweth - with their powerful, distinctive voices and overall presence. And for once, my bad eyesight did me a small favor, allowing me to imagine the original leads onstage.

It was a thrill to witness my favorite numbers from the musical being performed live. And as I predicted, it was Popular that ignited the crowd to roaring laughter and applause and set the tone for the rest of the night.

Ooh, project!

As the song goes "It's all about po-pu-lar!"

Strangely enough, while the signature song "Defying Gravity" was goose-bumpingly soaring and powerful, I found myself struck with a song I didn't really pay much attention to before: romantic but witless lead Fiyero's ode to a carefree existence  "Dancing Through Life" :

Hey, look! It's Enjolras.

Maybe when life has furrowed our brows with many cares and worries, an unexamined life seems worth living instead.

The trouble with schools is
They always teach the wrong lesson
Believe me, I've been kicked out
Of enough of them to know

They want you to become less callow
Less shallow
But I say: why invite stress in?
Stop studying strife
And learn to live
"The unexamined life"

Dancing through life
Skimming the surface
Gliding where turf is smooth

Life is painless
For the brainless
Why think too hard
When it's so soothing?

Dancing through life
No need to tough it
When you can slough it off
As I do?

Nothing matters
But knowing nothing matters
It's just life
So keep dancing through

Dancing through life
Swaying and sweeping
And always keeping cool

Life is fraught less
When you're thoughtless
Those who don't try
Never look foolish

Dancing through life
Mindless and careless
Make sure you're where less
Trouble in life

Woes are fleeting
Blows are glancing
When you're dancing
Through life

Dancing through life
Down at the Ozdust
If only because dust
Is what we come to

And the strange thing
Your life could end up changing
While you're dancing
Through!

At any rate, do try and catch Wicked. It's a tale about friendship and love, alternately funny and poignant.

Kristin Chenoweth's farewell performance. 

Which lent the scene a special kind of poignancy.

In short, it's wicked good.

Trés Misérables

Burn, bitches.

Like my good friend Maleficent and, probably, you, I was not invited to Resorts Worlds Manila's formal-attire only gala premiere of Tom Hooper's Les Misérables.

But fear not. There was no need to cast curses involving spindles and eighteen-year olds falling asleep for a hundred years.

Because schadenfreude is my middle name, I simply wonder - with much concern and sadness, to be sure - how tres misérable the chi-chi crowd felt at last night's disastrous non-showing of that famous film. 

Lame Misérables, as a pundit acquaintance of mine put it.

Technical difficulties, indeed. I understand Wilson Tieng looked ready to burst several blood vessels after this major major social snafu, the poor dear. All those VIPs dressed to the nines, with Christian Bautista, Karylle, Audie Gemora and other singers performing live numbers from the musical (accompanied on piano by no less than Ryan Cayabyab!) as a front act to a gala that was not to be.

Alors, alors, c'est-la vie, oui?

Et parce que plus de choses changent, plus ils restent le méme, regardez-vous cette nouvelle caravane pour Les Misérables: la nouvelle adaptation cinematographique de Tom Hooper. Avec Hugh Jackman étoile comme Jean Valjean, Russell Crowe étoile comme Javert, Anne Hathaway comme Fantine, et Amanda Seyfried comme Cosette.

Je ne connais pas la fille que joue Eponine ( Samantha Barks, en remplancement de Taylor Swift et Scarlett Johansson), mais n'en faire pas.

Oui, oui, j'adore, j'adore!

A Magic Carpet Ride

In the continuing saga of Culture Vulturing, Mara and I went to see the opening night of Atlantis Productions' Disney's Aladdin: The New Stage Musical. It was a brand-new, Asian premiere staging of the successful Disney animated feature, expanded with new songs and a few storyline tweaks.

Essaying the title role was PBB's Tom Rodriguez, in his first theater outing, with chanteuse K-la Rivera (who I often confuse with Karylle) playing Jasmine.

I had high hopes for this production, expecting a rousing, rollicking time. I eagerly anticipated an expanded musical version of the tale of the young street rat from Agrabah overcoming poverty and adversity through a combination of sheer luck and street-smart pluck. And I was ready to hum new melodies, ones as self-consciously campy as Prince Ali and as soaring as A Whole New World.

Of course, the Disney movie was helped immeasurably by the great fortune of having the irrepressible Robin Williams in the role of the wisecracking, madcap Genie. But Atlantis had Aiza Seguerra in the role, and  my curiosity was piqued as to how she would interpret a character so thoroughly owned by Williams.

-------------------

And so Mara and I braved the daunting stretch of EDSA on a Friday payday, leaving early enough to make it to Meralco Theater with time to spare. Not wanting to cool our heels in Meralco's stale, cold lobby - which only lacked coffins and the baleful glare of standing lamps to become fully-funereal - we repaired to a nearby Chef & Brewer for some pre-show lattés.

Showtime rolled around soon enough and we found ourselves back in Funeraria Quiogue - I'm sorry, the lobby of the Meralco Building. There was a smattering of schoolchildren being herded by a couple of harassed-looking teachers, and...no one else.

Mara and I looked at each other and I kept inspecting our tickets to make sure we had the right date, time, and venue. Having confirmed all three, we loitered around the echoing hall waiting for people to trickle in. And presently they did, but as the 8:00 p.m. showtime ticked closer and closer, the crowd did not grow accordingly.

Eventually the house opened its doors and we filed in, Mara and I as resigned as a Juden couple in line for a one-way trip to Buchenwald. The children, on the other hand, trilled with laughter and excitement, blissfully unaware of what awaited us all once inside the caverns of the Meralco Theater. 

-------------------

It was early enough for us to plop down for a spell in the kiosk area, where a small excited commotion shortly occurred starring Marvin Agustin.


"I don't recall him being in the cast," I genuinely wondered at Mara.

Mara, who actually dabbles in showbiz, indulgently answered. "He probably just took his twins to see the play."

"He has a twin?" I asked incredulously, visions of gay twincest swimming in my lecherous mind.

"He has twins," Mara corrected.

"Oh." 


Well, silly me. I really haven't kept track of the progeny of showbiz people since Sharon popped out the Holy Infant That Was Destined To be Heartbroken By Papa Piolo.

-------------------

Soon the ushers started making announcements and herded everyone into the gas chambers, errr the main theater area. I hadn't been to Meralco in ages and had to gasp at how spacious it was; a true Cave of Wonders compared to the too-cozy-for-comfort relic that is the CCP.

Mara and I made our way to our seats - front row and very near but not quite center aisle. Those two coveted seats were presently occupied by two young women, whose winsome charms obviously were not enough to convince their beaus to watch the show.

We settled in and I looked back at the vast expanse of pink seats stretching out behind us and seemingly into infinity - all missing an audience. 

"I'm pretty sure these were corporate seats," Mara offered, noticing how crestfallen I was at the lack of butts filling those seats.

"Yes, but where's everyone?" 

"Sometimes people just don't use their tickets," Mara continued. "Even when they've been bought by the office."

I slunk down into my seat, depressed at this new knowledge. Nevertheless, I kept hoping against hope that seven busloads of schoolchildren were just stuck in the Friday traffic, but as the chimes started playing hope started evaporating like a Genie's misty trail.

I was shaken out of my glumness by the blare of the opening number as the curtain rose. Where was the effin' flag ceremony? I'm not a big fan of standing up for the Lupang Hinirang and all but I know you're supposed to play it at the start of any public performance.


Perhaps the Atlantis staff were too morose at the disappointing turnout that in their despair, they totally forgot about honoring the flag and all that jazz.


Anyway, audience or no audience, the show must go on. And go on it did, without the National Anthem.

-------------------

To the familiar strains of Arabian Nights, three characters riding hobbyhorses made to look like camels galumphed onstage. So...hobbycamels, I guess? Or more like hobbled camels, the way they were clip-clopping across the stage before breaking the fourth wall and dispensing of the clumsy props altogether.

Anyway, on with the story revisions. In this stage version, Aladdin has the aforementioned trio of troubadours - Babkak, Omar, and Kassim - instead of the original annoying pet/sidekick combo of Abu. Once together, their quartet was supposedly known as Al's Bag of Tricks or whatever. But they didn't play Barber's Adagio for Strings, Op.11.

ANYWAY.

This troublesome trio of troubadours did triple-duty  - not just taking over Abu's role - but as comic reliefs and as a gestalt version of the show's narrator, as well. Imagine Evita's Che being composed of three bumbling, vaguely-Arabic buffoons, and you get the idea. (One of these buffoons was an unrecognizable and unheralded Jamie Wilson, I would discover later. I thought all the while he looked curiously like Rafa DInglasan.)

     Image from here. Photo: Raul Montesa

Other deviations from the animated version include the transformation of Iago, Jafar's screechy sidekick, from a parrot to human (theater veteran Jimmy Marquez).

( Curiously, Atlantis' pre-show website indicated that Iago - and I'm assuming the rest of the animals featured in the original movie - was to be "brought to life by skillful puppeteers." I wonder whether cost or technical issues - or a combination of both - led them to just simply turn the grating-but-personality-filled bird into a feckless human sidekick.)

The villain Jafar (Miss Saigon alumnus Raul Montesa) was sufficiently over-the-top wicked and imposing, not too far from the movie portrayal. In contrast, fellow Saigon alumnus Jun Ofrasio's Sultan was played, not as a childlike-but-jocular old fool, but straight and therefore, boring.

Thankfully, Jasmine remained a misunderstood, misanthropic pill.

-------------------

At any rate, the true gem of this production was its lead star, Tom Rodriguez. I didn't know this guy from Adam and yet I thought he nailed the part of Aladdin down to a T, from the looks, the body language, and a surprising singing voice that uncannily sounded like Brad Kane (Aladdin's singing voice in the movie version.)

With these gifts, Rodriguez convincingly embodied the title character's wounded innocence and hopeful longing coupled with street-urchin mischievousness. At no point did I think he was an actor playing Aladdin; he was Aladdin.

An impressive feat for a theater neophyte in his first role - a starring one at that. 

Because he's easy on the eyes and an ex-reality show heartthrob, it's easy to dismiss Tom Rodriguez as just another pretty face that got cast primarily on his looks. But if there were any doubts as to the wisdom of his casting, his earnest, captivating performance laid them all to rest, in my humble layman's opinion. 

Indeed, to paraphrase one of his many numbers: 

"If only they'd look closer
Would they see the boy from PBB
They'd find out
There's so much more to me"

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K-la, on the other hand, made for a lovely Princess Jasmine. Her voice was clear and strong, but, like Karylle in Rama Hari, she was plagued with a crappy mic that popped and emitted feedback throughout the show. It reminded me of Madonna's mic cutting out in Truth Or Dare , with her demanding in the end to be put on the channel of her backup singers, who suffered no such technical glitches.

     Image from here. Photo: Raul Montesa

Nevertheless, there was genuine chemistry between the two leads, and the spark and sparkle gave the show a much-needed frisson that made up for its less-impressive sections.

-------------------

As  mentioned earlier, I was curious as to how diminutive Aiza Seguerra (alternating with the heftier Calvin Millado) would tackle the larger-than-life role of The Genie. Cleverly playing to her strengths, Seguerra's interpretation was of a smirking, wish-wielding smart-ass. Think of her acerbic Gary Coleman in Avenue Q, put him in pantaloons and sweeten him a bit, and you have Seguerra's Genie.

     Image from here. Photo: Raul Montesa

Sadly, Aiza's pipes - so tender in her own ballads - simply weren't up to the herculean vocal requirements and the frenetic lyrics of the Genie's numbers, particularly the signature Friend Like Me. Her spirit was huge but her small frame simply could not project enough power in her voice, and she'd skid down to earth on the low notes. 

Contrast that with Tom Rodriguez' strong and confident vocal consistency throughout the show, and it's clear that the upstart in what should be the show's buddy-buddy pairing is the reality-show alumnus.

-------------------

Because they had done away with the talking animals and thus, a good deal of the magic, I wasn't expecting to see the Magic Carpet anymore. Which only made its surprise appearance in the signature A Whole New World number all the more magical.

Rodriguez, as Prince Ali, steps off a rolling platform depicting the balcony outside Jasmine's boudoir after being rejected by her. She gasps and, as in the movie, he rises out of nowhere. He explains he's standing on a Magic Carpet, and K-la, after some coaxing, steps onto it. 

The platform then rolls away, to reveal the two leads floating way on high.

     Image from here. Photo: Raul Montesa

                                                      

And there. There was magic - literally in the air.


That, to me, was the high point of the show - no pun intended. I know it was a simple matter of cables and pulleys, but I was so happy to see them on the iconic Magic Carpet, as they sang that beautiful, beautiful duet. 

So happy, in fact, that I was transported into that magical place that theater sometimes makes possible. I was grinning like a child with stars in his eyes, and the sight of the two - singing beautifully, courageously while suspended 20 feet in the air - made up for the earlier disappointments in the lack of an audience, the iffy changes in the story, and the various other minor letdowns.

-------------------

The trouble with heights, of course, is it's all downhill from there.

Mara and I could've walked out of the theater after that point with our money's worth and without missing much of anything. But since I already felt sorry for the cast at the low turnout, it was the least we could do to soldier along with them to the end.

Besides, the fact that we were seated up front in a howling wilderness of a theater, and that even in the low light Mara was literally sparkling like a Maharajah's crown, would make our exit about as inconspicuous as a Congressman abusing his pork barrel.

I'm glad we stayed, though, if only for the startled look on Aiza Seguerra's face when she popped up in the orchestra pit right smack in front of us. It was supposed to be a surprise for the audience, but the Genie herself got surprised when she was nearly blinded by the jewels glittering around Mara's neck. The spotlight illuminating Aiza spilled onto the front rows, and the Swarovskis reflected the beams right back at her like little HID headlights. 

According to Mara, at that point even Tom Rodriguez, sitting onstage, seemed spellbound by her scene-stealing bling-bling.

     Image from here. Photo: Raul Montesa

I couldn't tell. I was too busy being transfixed by his bellybutton.

Let's just see that again. For science.

-------------------

Overall, the magic of Aladdin was tempered by the prosaic requirements of real-life staging. With the sumptuous sets and massive casting of, say, Resorts World's ongoing The King and I , the spectacular tale of a poor young lad swept up by forces into a madcap adventure of grand destiny would've been more magnificent, more splendid, more...magical.

Alas, despite Atlantis' deep pockets (I assume they must be, if they can afford the Disney licensing, not just for Aladdin, but for their previous and upcoming offerings - Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, Tarzan, and The Addams Family among them - as well), there was no Genie in the bottle to grant these wishes.

Yet the cast and crew of Aladdin: The New Stage Musical - like its namesake - valiantly did their best with what they had. And in the end, while that may not have been enough to make the show a smash, they did deliver two solid hours of fun, entertainment, and yes - magic.

For me, witnessing the first night of Tom Rodriguez' theatrical debut was its own reward. The lad's got looks, presence, and talent, and if there were to be the limits of a Genie's granted wishes, then he's got more than enough.

Look at the skies, for a star is born.


Here's to a whole new world of more stage performances from this guy.

     Image from here. Photo: Raul Montesa

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You can still catch Tom Rodriguez' mesmerizing bellybutton in Aladdin: The New Stage Musical's last shows tomorrow, Dec. 8, 2012 at 2:00 pm and 8:00 pm, and on Sunday, Dec. 9, 2012, at 3:00 pm.

Call Ticketworld at 891-9999. Or Google Atlantis Productions' hotline, you lazy bums.

Culture Vulture

Music soothes the savage beast.

Or does it?

Misquoting William Congreve's famous line* like the rest of us, so begins a particularly memorable episode of The Electric Company's "The Adventures of Letterman." Attending a classical concert, the villainous Spellbinder - no doubt entranced by the music - turns a bassoon into a...a baboon! Hilarity, of course, ensues, until Letterman saves the day by taking a double "L" from his chest and transforms the non-music loving simian into a less-disruptive balloon - which floats quietly out of sight.

Early evidence that I was a young troll.

What's this piece of childhood trivia got to do with anything, you ask?

Nothing, except that I've been going on an Arts & Culture bender of late, and I know deep down inside I'm just Spellbinder hoping to either create chaos or soothe the savage beast within.

Hopefully both.

Because I am given to obsessions - not all of them magnificent - I could not rest until I kept my promise to Brendan, my ex-protége. And thanks to the constrictions of his indentured servitude and the ensuing resetting of our momentous date, I ended up seeing Phantom of the Opera twice as a result.

Satisfying that sophomore - and sophomoric - craving for attention ironically did not slake my thirst for the limelight. Instead, it reawakened an ancient lusting so much so that as naturally as Claudia wanted to suck blood in Interview With A Vampire, I, too, wanted more.

Encore, encore, s'il vous plait, encore.

Soooooooooo.......


I ended up watching King and I twice, as well, this time escorting Mara - yet another "lady friend" - laden with faux bijoux up and down Newport's casinos, causing the eyes of the tai tais to narrow even further. Had I been more of a gambling man, I'd have played baccarat like Bond and she'd have moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo while waiting for the house to open. 

But alas, I have other ways of losing money - like watching musicals at least twice with different transvestite dates on my arm.

And because musicals are but a gateway drug, thanks to Gibbs Cadiz' helpfully-informative blog, we just barely managed to catch the tail end of Lisa Macuja's Swan Song Series performances : Giselle once with Mara, and in an encore reminiscent of Brendan's original failure to keep a date, I ended up watching Carmen twice: the first night with Mara, the next with Ayen. But a happy occasion, that, because we were privileged to witness a bonus dance from the prima ballerina as well as a song from her sister, in celebration of their parents' Golden Anniversary that last night. 

In between those, there's the ongoing National Theater Festival at the CCP. Mara and I had a grand old time watching Nonie and Shamaine Buencamino, Mae Bayot, Jenine Desiderio, and the rest of the spirited cast of Mario O'Hara's Stageshow - both as a gesture of support for the theater couple as well as my own nostalgic interest in bodabil.

Annoying Orange's mom was a more cultured kind of citrus.

Next stop : mighty Europe! The rainbow's gonna tour, dressed up, somewhere to go! We'll put on a show!

Oh, wait - I channeled Señora Peron there for a nanosecond.

Must've been all the jewels.

At any rate, our cultural calendar will take us to a whole new world on November 16th at the Meralco Theater, which, unfortunately, means I would be missing Joey Reyes' Sayaw nf mga SENIORita  in its debut run at the CCP that very same night. I'd love to see how closely it hews to its inspiration The Boys In The Band, but I'm not too keen on battling EDSA traffic to catch its succeeding performances at the AFP Theater. 

Nevertheless, should we fail to catch it at all, we are ready to console ourselves with Ballet Philippines' Dragon Song/Rama Hari back at the CCP on the 30th.

I always need a Statler to my Waldorf.

Lest I come off as a braggart and a snob, let me confess that these cultural excursions are hugely an elaborate - and expensive - exercise in social trolling born out of boredom. Be that as it may, I do have a genuine - if selective - interest in watching live performances, aside from those given by myself and my lovely accomplices. I still lament learning too late that Wicked had a short run in Singapore earlier this year, and would watch Evita every week if they ever bother re-staging it here. 



But why the trolling, you might ask? Isn't attending artistic performances sufficient in and of itself? 



Well, for better or worse, every gay man craves some drama in his life. And no drama is larger than life than when it is within the context of an opera, soap or musical. Speaking of which, the last musical opera I remember watching locally was a tragicomic staging of the already-tragic La Traviata. A theatrical - if well-meaning - travesty held at either the CCP or the Met, such was the trauma that I can't recall exactly. But I do remember its come-on was that it was an "experimental" version that "enhanced" the music of Verdi by altering the libretto with a smattering of Tagalog lyrics by none other than Rolando Tinio, if memory serves. 

Mal canto Tinio?

Opera is already inherently given to caricature as it is, but hearing Violetta singing that she was repairing to fucking NOVALICHES for her health could only send even the most solicitous of Filipino audiences into uncontrollable tittering. 

Be that as it may, I would still gladly sleep through Wagner at the Met - if we ever manage to convince any touring opera companies to grace our karaoke-infested shores.

(EDIT: In between the time I wrote this and the time I published it, I have learned that the Manila Symphony Orchestra, in celebration of Richard Wagner's birth bicentennial, is featuring Australian Wagnerian soprano Claire Primrose and Filipino tenor Randy Gilongo this Saturday, November 10th at the Philamlife Auditorium.)


So now it turns out I can sleep through Wagner at the...Philamlife.

It ain't over even after the Fat Lady sings.

It's a new addiction, this conspicuous cultural consumption - one I haven't really had since I was a child and the official escort to my grandmothers. There was always a sense of excitement in the air on those special nights when the women of the house transformed from lola, tita, and mama into these elegant perfumed ladies. And there was that thrill of anticipation before the show, and the grown-up feeling of mingling with the adults during intermission beneath the CCP's majestic capiz chandeliers.

I guess I miss all that...theatricality ? Or maybe I just miss the dressing-up part.

At any rate, unlike the Phantom's sequel Love Never Dies, this current infatuation of mine with the performing arts shall most certainly not last. But while I am caught in its entrancing embrace, I guess I've no choice but to enjoy the ride.

And with that, I shall leave you with this - my first lasting impression of Caro Nome from Verdi's Rigoletto - as interpreted by a dog.

Enjoy!

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*The actual line is "Music has charms to soothe a savage breast." Which, if you ask me, is far FAR more interesting than the more popular misquote.