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Alice and Her Beautiful Friends

Alice and Friends

February 21, 2020

Tanghalang Nicanor Abelardo

Cultural Center of the Philippines

Pasay City

 

Cover Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto: Denise Parungao in Dandansoy

· Classical Ballet,Contemporary Ballet

Review by Joelle Jacinto

The CCP Main Theater (well, at least the entire orchestra and perhaps the parterre boxes) was filled to capacity with Alice Reyes’ supporters and balletomanes to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Alice Reyes + Modern Dance Company concert, held exactly 50 years ago on February 21. Philippine theatrical dance owes much to this concert, as it helped institutionalize the art form in the country and AR does deserve an evening of commemoration, confetti and roses.

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Edna Vida paying tribute to her sister, Alice Reyes (center), at the curtain call of Alice and Friends

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

I felt it was unfortunate that the show suffered from the cultural politics that surrounded the event, and the show was more a side show for the politics than it was about the dance. Perhaps you already know by now the entire misadventure that led to this production, which was supposedly canceled because of the corona virus scare, then was revived as a protest to this injustice to arts and culture. If not, you can do a quick Google search.

This writing is not about the controversy, it’s a review of the dancing. Although, I admit it is difficult to look at the dancing and not think about the impact of the controversy on the performance. First of all, the show was not supposed to happen, so getting it onstage was a feat in itself.

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The fall of Gov. Bustamante in Itim Asu,

with L-R Victor Maguad, Ronelson Yadao, Denise Parungao and Jemima Reyes

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

Secondly, it is said that they weren’t allowed to use the costumes and sets that were originally prepared for this show, from which Reyes’ Itim Asu suffered greatly. Touted as a collaboration between the choreographer and its designers, the makeshift set that was quickly produced for this show ruined certain moments that were supposed to be full of meaning and impact. From seeing photos of the original performances in the 70s, we are aware that the scenes were supposed to evoke heightened dramatic effect, but Gov. Bustamante laying awkwardly on the stairs with cloth stitched onto the sides and Luisa clumsily trying not to fall as she crawls on top of him in her heartache was a bit uncomfortable to watch. However, it is easy to see that, with complete sets and proper costuming, there is a grandeur to Itim Asu that could make it unforgettable. I hope that it will get its proper staging soon.

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Parungao, Yadao and Reyes in Itim Asu

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

Bungkos Suite was instead the real celebration of AR’s legacy, so beautifully delightful, warm and familiar. Throughout most of the last 50 years, Bungkos Suite has been staged frequently and kept in the repertoire by artistic directors who succeeded AR, more than any of her works, even Amada. This is understandable because Bungkos Suite is so happy and so Filipino. We are these dancers happily swaying into our circles of love, believing we can sing and dance our troubles away. It has inspired other Filipino ballets of the same kind, as AR has inspired other Filipino choreographers to create work. It is sad that she will end this term as artistic director of the institution she established embroiled in this controversy.

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The signature motif that begins Alice Reyes' Bungkos Suite

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

The original show was a different program from that evening, and I am curious as to how some of the works were chosen. Lester Reguindin’s We feels a little out of place and not as actualized as the other works; especially when you can easily compare it to works in the same program with the same theme, like the always satisfying male pointe quartet that Erl Sorilla has lovingly created, which has the same issues about societal approval and coming out of the closet, and consistent crowd pleaser After Whom, which also dresses up their men and women against the norm. I actually like the dancing and all the lush movement in We, especially when the corps are ominous silhouettes in the back, but I think Reguindin needs a dramaturg to work out his concept a bit more and make it not so literal, to leave the audience with more to think about.

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Katrene San Miguel in David Campos' Ne Neh Ledej.

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

I was also curious about David Campos’ Ne Neh Ledej. It was the first time I had seen it, and thought, why are these local choreographers still deconstructing swans after this concept has been exhausted by Alden Lugnasin, Christine Crame, and Sorilla? But it turned out to be by Spanish choreographer David Campos, and had come to the Philippines in 2005, roughly after Lugnasin and before Crame and Sorilla. Curiouser then, why restage this swan piece and not the others? If I wanted to emphasize a sense of history and a faith in local, resident choreographers, I would have programmed Lugnasin’s Swans: Fluttering Disturbances instead. But perhaps it was a matter of which pieces were ready.

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EJ Arisola and Lester Reguindin in Ne Neh Ledej.

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

That said, it is clear from this show that it is the dancers that make a company. I say this a lot: this current crop of dancers are excellent. You realize this right away with the charming, yet very technically precise female ensemble in Glinka’s Valse, accompanied by the lone A.L. Abraham, who does well in earning his place beside the dazzling Katrene San Miguel, Jemima Reyes, Gia Gequinto, Monica Gana, Sarah Alejandro, Stephanie Santiago and Jessa Tangalin.

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The formidable Sarah Alejandro in Adam Sage's Glinka's Valse

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

I was at first bothered by this work, thinking it was Balanchine’s Valse Fantasie, which had been mounted on that company in 1974 by Muneca Aponte, then adopted by Dance Theater Philippines and UP Dance Company. But that Feb 21 opening work was apparently not Valse Fantasie at all, only “inspired” by it, according to the souvenir programme, using the same music. I guess nobody else would feel off about this besides me and whoever else has danced the original before. I realize that not everyone has my sense of history, as not everyone would have written their master’s thesis on ballet in the Philippines, and it probably does not matter in the long run. Or maybe it was changed so that it won’t be controversial. But then, aren’t we at a show where people are protesting displays of power and are using history to back up what they believe to be right?

Or perhaps I am only overthinking this. I decided this halfway through the dance and was determined to just enjoy the dancing.

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Jemima Reyes is always thrown up in the air

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

And that is the only thing I can rely on to enjoy that evening, the only thing that they can rely on, moving forward. The dancers are beautiful, collectively and individually. I thoroughly enjoyed Jemima Reyes playing up the cute ingenue in Chichiritchit in Bungkos Suite, and you totally understand why she chooses Erl Sorilla over John Ababon at the end. Sorilla is a joy to watch in every dance he is cast, showing off boyish enthusiasm in Bungkos Suite, and soulful ardor in Ne Neh Ledej.

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Erl Sorilla, John Ababon and AL Abraham, showing off for their girls in Bungkos Suite

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

I thoroughly enjoyed Denise Parungao, gloriously voluptuous as Itim Asu, in her Dandansoy solo in Bungkos Suite, and in her moment in Augustus Damian III’s After Whom. She throws herself wildly into the capable arms of Eugene Obille, who is always delivering solid and stable dancing, hitting all his arabesques and extensions in After Whom, and proving he is a force to be reckoned with in Itim Asu. Ronelson Yadao’s natural aplomb has defined much of his dancing, and makes him look like he was born for roles such as Gov. Bustamante, but also as a man refusing to come out of the closet in Sorilla’s male quartet. Sarah Alejandro’s beautifully pliant upper body belying her strength in her short duet in After Whom has you wishing she had more featured dancing. All four boys in Sorilla’s male quartet breaking our hearts together. Jessa Tangalin’s superhuman control in the juicy leg extensions of AR’s He’s Got The Whole World in Negro Spirituals, and her very presence canceling out other dancers in every piece she is featured in. Everyone in the company in the delirious whirling dervish section of After Whom.

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Jessa Tangalin in Negro Spirituals

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

After Whom is proof that you don’t need costumes and sets to make a ballet work, or even make it stunning and unforgettable. Yes, I missed the whirling dervishes bit given that there were no skirts to be whirled, but suddenly you realize, wow, the boys were doing all this complex footwork that we never saw before and everyone’s lines were laid bare for everyone to see. Even as I gaped at the breathtaking ensemble in full, I would somehow zoom into Victor Maguad, who was always somewhere front and center, moving deliciously, as if he had been dancing After Whom his whole life and it was a part of his soul.

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Denise Parungao as the eye of the storm in Augustus Damian III's After Whom,

flanked by Victor Maguad, Eugene Obille, Erl Sorilla and Earvin Guillermo

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto

As Victor Maguad lifts Jemima Reyes up to the light and continues to whirl as After Whom fades to black, we are left with the notion that no matter how heavy the politics and power struggles, the dancers will dance on. And so goes the future of ballet in the Philippines.

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Jemima Reyes and Victor Maguad with the rest of the ensemble in After Whom

Photo by Erica Marquez-Jacinto