By Jaime Benitez
This article is Part II of The Theatre Critic, Becoming. You can find Part I here.
Of all my usap-usapans, [Sierra Lakes] is the most minimalist — and, though it has the tersest dialogue, I consider it to be one of my most eloquent, provided that it is performed correctly. (xxxi)
This is what Tony Perez, playwright of Sierra Lakes, said in Pagbabaguntao sa Berbanya, Volume 2 of a collection of his literary works. To me, it captures the essence of what makes Sierra Lakes so powerful — it is in its terseness, its restraint, that the characters’ inner worlds are brought out. Ever since I first encountered and staged the play in my Theatre class in 2019 (pictured above), the play has remained such a unique study of the human experience, such that, even five decades after its original release, it stands the test of time. It’s no wonder that Dulaang ROC wanted to stage it.
When I found out that Dulaang ROC would be staging “Sierra Lakes: Live @ UA&P,” a modern spin on the original, a tribute to the late playwright, I was excited. I’d take any excuse to not only revisit that script but also, for the first time, watch the play as an audience member, not an actor. However, there was something about their production, even before watching, that caught my eye: the title.
“Sierra Lakes: Live @ UA&P.” This, paired with the marketing materials, hinted at a more musical performance direction of the play — one that was decidedly different from the lakeside cottage setting of the original script. It was not necessarily good or bad, just different. I know I had my biases, given I had spent a good amount of time with the script in class six years prior. The production I was part of was more faithful to the script; this seemed to be taking things in a different direction. Still, I wanted to allow this version, directed by Luis “Cheese” Mendez — an icon of UA&P theatre and a force in contemporary Philippine theatre — a chance to prove itself. I proceeded to watch two showdates.
The production value was certainly at-par with any other Dulaang ROC production I had seen before. ROC never shied away from scale, and they, more often than not, had the technical ability to match it. The acting was also quite expressive. Manuel Casapao as Jusel particularly stood out for his depiction of charisma masking insecurity. Sierra Lakes: Live @ UA&P, overall, was quite energetic and a fun watch. The play was not at all lacking in its entertainment factor.
However, something about the play didn’t work.
The Usap-Usapan
It had all the makings of a good play: a strong cast, a well-designed set, immersive lights and sound design, among other things. Mendez may have added some lines and sections, but he stayed true to the original, not changing any of the lines of Perez’s script. Still, the play felt flat, distant even. Some scenes felt caricaturish, and others, downright not believable. It felt like the play pushed me away as opposed to inviting me in to experience and examine what the characters were going through. What could have caused this? It felt like a cop-out to say that it failed simply because it deviated from the original. There had to be a deeper reason. So, I started the conversation with a question I could answer for myself: If this version didn’t work for me, then why did I think our version worked?
Since I couldn’t quite find the words to explain what I felt, I consulted Dr. Paul Dumol, a true luminary of UA&P and a contemporary of Tony Perez. Dr. Dumol then pointed me to Pagbabaguntao sa Berbanya, which contained not only an introductory write-up by Dr. Paul Dumol, but also Perez’s own thoughts about the play. Perez’s foreword and Dumol’s introduction turned out to be a gold mine for quotables, and most importantly, a perfect encapsulation of what I think made the version I was in work. The quote at the beginning of this article is one of them, highlighting that its terseness is its power.
But what did he mean by “correctly?”
Sierra Lakes, as it turns out, was one of Tony Perez’s usap-usapans — plays which he describes as “dramatic conversation[s]; a slice of life enacted before an audience with or without a proffered issue” (xvi). They are plays where “conflict and structure are not essential to drama.” Perez had wanted to “break the rules,” and he did so by leaning more into creating a “phenomenological experience” for the audience. In short, the usap-usapans were an attempt by Perez to make you encounter the play as an experience — a slice of life — as opposed to a story being told in front of you. They are not exposition nor plot-driven; they aim simply to show life as it is through the spontaneous and organic conversations and interactions between the characters. The dialogue in the script, as Perez puts it, is “not so much text as it is subtext.” The director’s challenge, therefore, is not to think in terms of story, but in terms of “emotional truth.” This was what Perez meant by “performed correctly.”
This strongly paralleled what my Theatre teacher, Christian “X” Vallez — a multi-Palanca award winner and living legend of UA&P theatre — aimed for with our production. We were told to play our characters subtly, straying away from what most might call “theatricality.” However, we didn’t do this just to add some air of mystery to our characters; we did it simply because our characters were just being, just going through their life. We weren’t catching them at a moment where an inciting incident came in and started a chain reaction of events; we were just there, as if we had just walked out onto the balcony of a neighboring lakeside cottage and just so happened to see these events. We were watching people talking, and people don’t talk to move the plot forward; they speak their minds, but they also don’t. They say what they’re thinking, but they could also be thinking about something else entirely, and in Sierra Lakes, the romantic tension is one that makes people hesitate to say what they truly feel.
Still, I don’t think it’s enough to say Dulaang ROC’s rendition didn’t work for me simply because it wasn’t performed exactly how Perez originally intended. While I agreed with a lot of what Perez said, I wanted to hold it against my own experience of watching the play.
Lost in Subtext
First and foremost, some scenes fell flat not simply because of the staging but because the direction of the acting did not fully bring the subtext of each scene. The original script relies on characters saying one thing while meaning something far more volatile underneath, and when that undercurrent, that inner world, isn’t understood, the lines become literal, even hollow. The effect is a kind of emotional surface tension: everything is spoken, but very little is felt. I have no problem with deviating from the original subtext, perhaps by modernizing the context to add different implications, but that’s not what happened. This could be seen in the aloofness of Carlos, played by Ten Escara. He may be someone “in his own world,” but Carlos is so much more than that. His “yes” is not just a yes; it’s an expression of a man soaking in the world. While the others perceive it as being passive and disconnected, it is revealed in the end to be thoughtful contemplation — which could have been hinted with slightly warmer body language and more expressive facial expressions, showcasing his attentiveness while still maintaining how his silence could be alienating.
However, the scene that was the biggest culprit of messy subtext was Arlene and Girlie’s scene. Their friendship is certainly believable at the start with Denise Lagman and Faith Mendoza’s chemistry, but as Arlene begins to share more personal parts of her life, the direction of the scene takes an awkward turn. Girlie, for some reason, becomes more cold to Arlene’s story, but Arlene, who was also shown to be another perceptive character, seems to be completely oblivious, maybe even dismissive, to her. This was a strange directorial decision. In the original script, this scene was a moment that not only laid some thematic foundations for the play, but also showed two people, in sharing their own perspectives, who were both trying to figure out what a good relationship ought to be. Perez’s dialogue is terse because it shows the struggle of real-life conversation: a simultaneous attempt to share your inner world, while also hiding it. You could write a whole essay just on the subtext and implications of each scene; the challenge for the actors is to bring it out in the performance.
The decision by Cheese to go for the fourth-wall breaking Brechtian approach — constantly reminding the audience that they are watching a play, not experiencing what the characters are going through — also did what it was meant to do. From the get-go, you are told (and constantly reminded) that the actors of Carlos, Girlie, and Arlene are just that: actors, specifically members of the band “Sierra Lakes” acting out a story. The transitions between scenes, which are indicated as times of the night (7:00PM, 9:00PM, etc.), are read aloud by Jusel. There are even moments, for example, in the conversation between Jusel and Girlie, where you see Jusel “breaking character,” emotionally collapsing from the memory of the experience, and you see the actress of Arlene come to check on him, implying that this was not what they “rehearsed.” All of these contributed to alienating the audience — something Brechtian theatre aims for.
One creative decision that led to this effect was the choice to tell the story through Jusel’s perspective. While the actors of Carlos, Girlie, and Arlene introduce themselves with their real names (Escara, Mendoza, and Lagman, respectively), Jusel, played by Casapao, still introduces himself as Jusel. He also gives a short introduction to the play, introducing the play as the story of how the band got their name, which was not in the original script. All those moments that remind us that it is told through Jusel’s eyes — all culminating with the musical motif of Radiohead’s “Creep” as an encapsulation of Jusel’s story — would theoretically place us into his point of view, and the direction brings it out quite skilfully.
But is that what the play needed?
Life, as It is
In watching the play, I unfortunately found that the Brechtian approach came with the added consequence of never allowing the audience to feel immersed in the subtleties of the situations. For the subtext of a scene to come out and be felt, the audience needs a chance to let the situation sit with them. This could be achieved through moments of silence, where the characters are themselves trying to unpack everything. Instead, those moments, while still arguably present, are brief at best. There are moments like Jusel’s reading aloud of the transitions, which, instead of giving the audience space to let a scene, and all its implications and subtext, settle in, remind them not to get emotionally invested.
This manifests the most in the overall musical direction of the play. Music, when used well, can supplement the effect of all the other mise en scène of a play, and that certainly was achieved. “Creep” is used as a thematic anchor for the play, and it does serve to encapsulate the isolation and the misunderstood nature of Jusel, but its diegetic insertion, along with other songs or musical elements, into what otherwise could have been moments of characters in silent reflection, not only keep the audience from sitting and marinating in the moment (like the use of drums during Jusel and Girlie’s scene), but using that specific song shortchanges the audience, telling them what to feel rather than allowing the situation itself to organically leave that impression on the audience.
If there is any character whose perspective this play should have taken (and we arguably shouldn’t be taking any particular perspective to begin with), I think it should be Carlos’. Not only do the lines reveal that the whole play was a brainchild of Carlos (“I’ll call it ‘Sierra Lakes!’”), but his exclamation that the play would be about “people discovering” also ties the play together thematically. Dr. Dumol puts it best in Pagababaguntao (xxxv):
“Sierra Lakes is like a Mozartean opera. […] One is meant to delight in the sheer juxtaposition of one musical instrument with another, playing melodies that contrast (the first two scenes), complement each other (the next two scenes), clash (Scene 5), or blend (Scene 6) in a harmony of delicious, unexpected beauty. This is what Perez means by his proviso that the play be “performed correctly:” as in a quartet for strings, rhythm is everything, the pauses, the moments of silence, the beats within scenes and in between scenes; the tempo of individual characters must always be right, shifting within scenes or between scenes when needed but only when needed, and always complementing the other character’s. This is a play in which Perez forbids any one character from outshining the rest.”
Carlos brings the play together because he reminds us that Sierra Lakes isn’t about winners and losers, right and wrong, or even about love and loss. It’s the combination of all of it, not in that it is an intricate construction of themes by Perez, but rather, the thing that comes out of it that is greater than the sum of its parts: life, as it is. We are all instruments, and we, just like these characters, are an orchestra trying to come together, but the beauty lies in its spontaneity, in discovering. Life is not just a linear series of ups and downs — it is in the juxtaposition, the way we tie together those seemingly disconnected ups and downs with each other, that one finds meaning, and this play is one where each individual character, in their interactions with one another, do just that, and we the audience not only bear witness, but participate in that meaning-making. I think this is what Perez wanted his usap-usapans to be, and Cheese’s decision to go against that, while admirable, took away a lot of what made Sierra Lakes, in their subtlety, so truthfully and timelessly beautiful.
The Asterisk
There is another factor I haven’t addressed yet that I mentioned in the previous article — that I also directed ViARE’s season opener, Newspaper Dance. ViARE and Dulaang ROC aren’t rivals in any cutthroat sense, but the overlap between the two groups is real enough that my having directed a ViARE production inevitably colors how some people might read my take on Sierra Lakes. That tension, that slight conflict of interest, is something I want to confront honestly. So, in the next article, I’ll try to untangle that web, as I — someone still getting dipping their toes in theatre — am still figuring out what it means to direct, and hopefully, in doing so, I can identify the role that the experience of directing with ViARE has in forming my perspective.
Stay tuned for Part 3!
Photos by Angelica Agor and UA&P CCO/Red Rivera
Sources:
Pagbabaguntao sa Berbanya: Limang Usap-Usapan ni Tony Perez. Vol. 2, UST Publishing House, 2009.
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