The Filipino Theatre

Title

Creator

Avellana, Daisy Hontiveros-

Language

English

Source

Panorama XII (8) August 1960

Subject

Theater -- Philippines -- History

Rights

In Copyright - Educational Use Permitted

Fulltext

Curtain call The Filipino Theatre By Daisy Hontiveros-Avellana ACT I: Pre-1941 There was no Filipino, theater. There were moromoro plays, and there were the zarzuelas. There were some plays written both in Ta galog and in Spanish, and a few in English. A limited num ber of foolhardy young souls like Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero, Severino Montano, Francisco Rodrigo, A. E. Litiaco, Hilarion Vibal presented before the pu blic the plays they had written. Artistic successes? Oh yes! Fin ancial? What does the word mean? August 1960 81 The dramatic clubs of those days were also divided into two groups: the Spanish-speaking groups like the Circulo Escenico, Tali a, Arte y Caridad; and the younger, English-speaking groups: the Community Play ers, the Cosmopolitan Dramatic Guild, the Players * Guild, and the Barangay Theatre Guild. All these local dramatic or ganizations experienced the same difficulties. Most of the people taking part in the plays were working people, or stud ents, who spare only their eve nings for rehearsals. Someone in the cast got sick — the others would have to carry on in his absence. The players rehearsed far into the night. And the realization that they would have to be up early the follow ing morning for their various duties did not make tempers any too sweet. Someone came late — all the others had to wait, whether they liked it or not, for him to show up. It did not have any good effect on the nerves to have to act on stage with an invisible com panion. Then, of course, there was the question of scenery, cost umes, and lighting effects. How to get the best possible of these three utterly necessary items at the very lowest prices — that was the problem which made amateur producers’ hair turn gray. It was useless to ex pect to gain anything financial ly from these amateur produc tions— after one had paid for expenses, which also included rental for the theater (a major expense)—there just wasn’t anything left even for a cast party. These amateur dramatic or ganizations staged plays for the sheer joy of acting, and not for purposes of making money. It was ridiculous therefore, to ex pect them to lavish money on expensive scenery, costumes, and lighting effects — especially when there was no money to be lavished. ACT II: 1942-1945. 'PO ALL APPEARANCES, this period was the beginning of our Golden Age in the thea ter. The local stage never had it so good. We had scenic de signers, musical directors, play wrights, publicity men, and ac tors. Tagalog was accepted, willingly or not, as the lang uage for all these presentations, except for some that were pre sented in English. The form of entertainment for young and old was the stage fshow, which started as a mix ture of drama in all its level and plain vaudeville. A little later, an enterprising company (The Philippine Artists’s League) took a step farther by divorcing the actual play from the musical numbers, and thus getting two separate good shows 82 Panorama instead of one trite hodge podge. The other companies promptly followed suit, and Manila audiences were then treated to plays that were co herent and understandable. Since these presentations were staged in moviehouses, the problem of acoustics came up. So did microphones. To use or not to use? “Off with them!” shouted the purists. They did not stop to consider that doing so would have meant resorting to pantomime — in a theater as huge as the Avenue, say, where the stage had not been designed for dramatic presentations, no voice, no matter how clear and resonant, could have been heard beyond the first few rows without the aid of the lowly mike. “Hide the microphone!” shouted the fence-sitters. In a flower pot maybe, or under a chain? Then watch the atten tion of the audience wander from the play to an intriguing game: where is the microphone? The microphones stayed. Charges of “Illegitimate!” rent the air. “You are not the thea ter!” was the accusation hurled to the stage show. But that un feeling creature went merrily on its way. “After all,” as one amused producer of one such stage show said, “No amount of seals, whether by Good House keeping, the Bureau of Health, or Armour’s Ham, can establish the legitimacy of a dramatic company.” Close on the flourishing reign of the stage shows came several August 1960 83 plays in English, and they too met signal success. The rosters of actors who so wholehearted ly gave of their abundant ta lents to both Tagalog and Eng lish plays was a brilliant and distinguished one. To these actors and to many more, we owe not only several hours of pleasant entertain ment. but also the much-needed relaxation and release from the cares and anxieties of the day. This, after all, is the final desti ny of the theater. The invisible yet solid bond between the ac tors on stage and the people who watch them; the sympathy, understanding, and responsive reactions between these two groups; the communion be tween life as reproduced behind the footlights and the lives of those in the orchestra seats, in the balcony, and in the loge. Upon that magnificent power of the stage to compress in two hours a whole lifetime, or a snatch of a lifetime, lies its vin dication. For the theater, after all, is not on the stage behind the footlights — it is there among the seats. ACT III: Post- 1945. S o MacArthur returned, along with several hundred thousand men whom a grateful Philippines eventually learned to call by their first names — names which all stood for one word: friend. The traditional Filipino hospitality once again again came to the fore. What little there was in the way of food was shared with the “Am ericano.” But the average Joe didn’t care much for exotic dish es that didn’t agree with him. Joe wanted a different dish: entertainment. And that meant, for nine Joes out of ten, a leg show. And songs. Stateside. Sung badly or sung well, but still, American songs. And so the musical show came into its own. Old joke books were dug up; costumes mostly on the taw dry side, were hurriedly made from whatever material was available; furniture was bor rowed from trusting neighbors; a few dances rehearsed in hap hazard manner; leading movie personalities signed up for the starring roles; and the curtains creakily opened on what would probably go down in theater history as the blackest period of the local stage. Manila was beginning to look like a huge army encampment. Khaki was everywhere. But working on the premise that the civilians must still be around, somewhere, and that maybe they wanted entertainment, too, some of the local directors de cided to present plays in Taga log once again. The “lolas” in the audience sighed with con tentment This was their thea ter. The happy state of affairs did not last long. First-run mo 84 Panorama vies, exciting in their newness, hit Manila and took the city by storm. People flocked to them in droves. The owners of the smaller theaters looked on, alarmed. Why shouldn’t some of that good money come their way, too? The plays in Tagalog were given a most unceremon ious kick right where it hurt most — the box-office. * There ‘ll be some changes made,” sang the owners of the small theaters, and that was the funeral march for the Tagalog plays. * But the memory lingers on. History does repeat itself, and once more the school and col leges, as well as the local ama teur theatrical groups, have ta ken up the gauntlet. The Dra matic Philippines (organized during the war years) and the Barangay Theatre Guild (or ganized early in 1939) are still in there pitching. New groups have come in, too. These others are also dreaming of the day when the Filipino national thea ter will come into its own, final ly. There’s Severino Montano’s Arena Theater, Jean Edades’ Philippine Theater, the Civic Theater, Incorporated. And there are our esteemed col leagues in both the American and the Spanish communities: the American Manila Theatre Guild and the Spanish Circulo Escenico. Right now the question of what language to use for the na tional theater is not important: English, Spanish, Tagalog, Visayan, Ilocano, every little bit helps. Every little production put on by amateur groups and by the school organizations is just one more little step for ward. * * * Doctor, Doctor I was m the hospital, due to be operated upon at 8 a.m. But the attendant did not arrive to take me to the operating room until 9:45. As he transferred rr.3 from my bed to the cart, I remarked, “They must be awfully busy in the operating room this morning. You're one hour and 45 minutes late.” One of his aides clapped his hand to his head and exclaimed, “Oh, man, it's been murder up there this morning!” August 1960 85

pages

81-85

Media