They said this day would never come. At least, not this soon.
It might be powered by persistent desire or defiant stubbornness. But the raging voice trapped in the silencing shackles can’t be caged forever. The story can’t just remain echoing between the chambers of our screens. It is screaming so loud, demanding for an audience--demanding the passive act of listening be an active statement of resistance. We all knew it would happen sooner or later. But the fact that it is happening this soon--that it is happening today--tells a story far greater than the words of the playwright.
Theatre is one of the first sacrifices in the new normal. Some even said it would be dead for a long time. For months, the stage has been gathering dust, the seats have been eerily silent. But it’s a preferable stillness than the confounding cacophony outside the theatre left in the wake of the pandemic. The country still weeps for its dead. The agonizing cry for justice prevails in the air. The silence covering incompetence is deafening. After all the clusterfuck brought by this pandemic, there’s a seething, collective voice that seeks, nay demands, to be heard. And tonight, it might have found the perfect stage.
While talks of mounting this stage play pervade various circles, the consensus is it will be subversive. In this political climate, staging it sets the tone for this. While the pandemic has gradually left us, the remnants of martial reins have not. This did not deter the group from making this defiant art piece come to fruition. Even in its title, “The Address”, leaves the ambiguity at the door in whom the play addresses (pun intended). There are only six cast members so rehearsing for the play is within the restricting limit of gatherings. The marketing for this play has been a massive online buzz. Most of it was organic as it carries the weight of being the first stage play post-pandemic. It has been a constant subject for investigation because of its subversive tone so they have to delete their content every now and then. The incessant desire to shut it down backfired as more people have been drawn to this ephemeral voice (complete with their witty puzzles that lead you to their content), showcasing their thirst for a voice they can identify with.
They have prepared. And they’ve marked tonight as their premiere. Without pre-selling of tickets, which for some reason is still not allowed, they don’t know if there will be an audience to perform to. As they put it in their last promotion online: “We’re ready to make our statement. Are you?” We have managed through the pandemic, inefficient and dysfunctional as it may have been, but we have overcome--at least for those that are still here. There’s still an atmosphere of cautious fear coupled with the overreach of rules meant for a pandemic which the implementers themselves have already claimed victory over. Where does our fear lie? This is basically the question the play gives to its presupposed audience. While attendance is not a must, it’s a statement.
I, for one, am ready to make that statement. We’ve been forced to fall back by an invisible enemy, we’ve been rallied to war with limited weapons and inconsistent generals, we’ve been shouting at a walled ivory tower for far too long. For a country that ensures each citizen has a voice, it only has the ears for the few. We need to make our voice a resounding statement.
When I arrived at the theatre, I was expecting a line. But not this long. They had to add a second entrance and still, the lines spilled out of the building--partly because of social distancing, but definitely because of social consciousness. The play hasn’t started and yet social issues discussions fill the one-meter gaps. The eagerness is palpable and hope sparks in eyes wide of anticipation. As of today, theater plays are still not allowed (and there’s this play partly to blame) but that did not deter these people from breaking this rule by ironically following the usher’s pleas to follow the two queues.
It’s also a good thing that “The Address” is just a 30-minute, one-act play. That allowed them to stage four shows for tonight and given the long lines, a sure SRO shows at that. This appeased the queues for this play might be shut down and this opening night could be its only night. As soon as the usher announced that they would start letting people in, the humdrum was broken by a single clap. Soon, the lobby echoed a thunder of applause and cheers, punctuated by drumming footsteps. And at that moment, as the theatre has always done, a community was born.
The hushed conversations slowly filled the silent theater back to life. Seats started to squeak in succession. The familiar chimes, the decorum reminders, the sporadic excuse me’s--all reminding me of the experience I have fallen in love with since I was a naive student, reminding us of how it once was, how we should’ve been.
Then, the lights gradually fade to black. A sea of masks brimming with excitement and hope awaits the dusty stage to be lit once again.
Saving you from spoilers, all I can say about the play is it lived up to its promise. “The Address” is about a president preparing to address the nation after a major disaster hit the country. Seems like a normal story except that there are four presidents debating for 30 minutes on how to go about the message. As these representative personalities argue on different social issues and political systems, security bulletins come every now and then to give updates on the rising death toll. The constant breaking of the fourth wall reminded us that we are not just spectators. We are part of the discussion. We are part of the decision--and not just in this play.
For the whole duration of the play, the audience laughed, welled up, applauded. But by the end of it, all were inflamed. As the stage went dark again in the end, the theater erupted into boisterous applause. There was a bit of technical difficulty that it took them longer to bring the lights back up for the curtain call. But that, I think, is kismet--for those long seconds that we could see nothing but can only hear the roaring crowd, no symbolic scene could come as close to home than that.
As the company took their bows, the audience leaped up, clapped, and cheered from start to finish. It was not just appreciation and respect for the powerhouse of talent on stage. Each cheer told the story of the unseen scenes behind the setting of the play: every suffering, frustration, every cry. Each whistle was a promise to protect the play at all costs. Each clap was a vow to echo the message. It was an orchestra where all played the same key of vision. In that full minute, the community sounded the revolution.
Dum Roma deliberat Saguntum perit origin. While Rome debates, Saguntum is in peril. This is basically what the play wants to say. For many times, theatre has been a platform to creatively use the art of storytelling in sparking social consciousness into a movement. In its most defiant sense, this play proved this inimitable power of the art form that insecure establishments have been trying to silence since its inception. Each act that goes with the whole experience--writing, directing, rehearsing, acting, even mere attending--is a statement in itself.
We’ve been through a lot in this pandemic, and not just health-wise. It showed us a lot, even things that were trying to be obscured. It brought a lot of uncertainties, confusion, exasperation, and depression. It brought the best and worst in us, and our utmost exhaustion in doing so. We’ve lost rights and we’ve gained debt. There were actions that should have happened and there were sacrifices that should have not. It seemed we were fighting a losing battle every day. Lives have become numbers. Fear has become a daily routine.
In all those months of war, we lost track of our enemy. Amidst the uncertainty, we needed clarity. We needed to be reminded who truly is in power. We needed a voice to echo our collective cry. And today, we found that voice.
So, no, theatre is not dead. On the contrary, today, it arrived stronger--wounded and exhausted but fierce and sonorous. More than anything, this play proved that theatre will never die. All you need is a community aching for a revolution to make a statement into a movement. And this opening night marked its start.
