There were two similarly-themed ballets showing in Manila this weekend (Filipino gods and nature). If you're still confused about which one was Ballet Philippines' DIYOSA and which one was Alice Reyes Dance Philippines' ENCANTADA, well, maybe this will help: one had artistas watch it, while the other had fellow National Artists (Ramon P. Santos and Kidlat Tahimik) in the audience, supporting National Artist Agnes Locsin and National Artist Alice Reyes in the extraordinary restaging of what was one of the most powerful experiences of this theater goer's life!
All ancient civilizations share the Great Flood myth. From the Epic of Gilgamesh to Noah's Ark, from Bukidnon and the Igorot, to Davao's Mandaya peoples (incidentally, Agnes Locsin hails from Davao!)... there are many variations on a common theme: a great cleansing borne out of a wrathful deity.
As Covid itself is seen by some as a natural cataclysm of sorts, it is especially poignant to witness the (re)birth of a stellar dance company (for greater context: Alice Reyes was previously the director of Ballet Philippines, as well as being its founder). And what an arrival! I was moved to tears (three times come intermission time, and I lost count how often I cried in the second act), a unique power of the truly sublime in art.
Dance is one of the most accessible art forms, especially in the hands of a gifted choreographer-storyteller like Agnes Locsin. Her ENCANTADA is primal, the power of its storytelling of mythic proportions. Choosing prima ballerinas more for their strength and not their beauty (a truth this ballet fan has observed through years of watching Nutcracker and Giselle), dancers enacted this feminist iteration of a Great Flood myth with movements that seemed both familiar and altogether fresh. Angular, jerky gestures merged with fluid grace as indigenous movements the audience had studied in their Buwan ng Wika school days were combined in breathtaking shows of athletic virtuosity as dancers leaped, or were flung into the air only to be caught by partners at the very last second. And what really struck me was the CLEANLINESS of it all, the highly polished synchronization that speaks of countless hours of rehearsal. This high level of polish has not been present in previous local ballet performances, and so to see it was extremely moving indeed!
And the music!!! I despair at the impossibility of conveying the full-body shock of a resounding agong, the urge to dance so urgent, it was a big effort to restrain myself from dancing along when the kulintang ensemble played in ever faster rhythms. Joey Ayala, Bayang Barrios, and Ang Bagong Lumad's unique sound is especially moving because it is a pan-Filipino ensemble: with a combination of kulintang instruments and the kubing from Mindanao, with the gangsa from the highlands of the North, and a few more modern instruments thrown in the mix.
Gongs in Philippine culture are sacred, passed down from generation to generation. There is power in their playing, and I believe this was felt subliminally by all blessed enough to be present for this mass ritual-as-performance.
The incredible vocalists alternated between songs (lyrics by Al Santos) and wordless vocalizations. I've long admired Bayang Barrios' commitment to passion and narrative drive above "sounding good," and her powerful ululations stirred our most base emotions in a way no rounded bel canto tones can.
It starts with the diwata Encantada atop a mountain, and an indigenous tribe dancing a prayer for a fruitful harvest led by the babaylan.
Below the mountain, the aptly named Estranghero steals the image of the Virgin Mary, after witnessing the mismatch between holy words and infernal abuse by the priests. One would think that the music to accompany the church men would sound like the heavenly purity of Gregorian chant, but Joey Ayala gave the frailes a basso profundo glottal fry, musically symbolizing the lowest pits of Hell, with haunting singing of "Diyos ko, patawarin mo ako sa aking malaking sala" in the vocal style of the pasyon.
The guardia civil wound the thief, but he is taken in by the women of the mountains. They remove the curious dress of the statue he stole, and then Encantada recognizes it as a version of an anito. (Theologically speaking, the show packs a powerful punch, too!) She and the people embrace it and the lowlander, as our forefathers must have done when the first Spanish priests showed up in 1521.
Act II should perhaps come with a trigger warning, as rape and headhunting (done under the church men's orders) is never comfortable to watch, even when done artistically well (or perhaps ESPECIALLY when it is done with such skill!). You could hear the decapitations in the music! Kind of like what Poulenc did for the guillotine in his opera Dialogues of the Carmelites. As for the choreography, you could explicitly see the metaphor as female dancers acted like logs being felled, with matching sounds of a chainsaw accompanying the grotesque orgy of violence. The lights bathed the stage in red as we beheld a hell we are all burning in... one of our own making.
And this is what sets off the Great Deluge.
Earlier in Act 1, there was already foreshadowing as Joey Ayala and Bayang Barrios sang "Ang kababaihan ay nagiging ilog... ay lumuluwal sa mga batis."
Hell hath no fury like the enraged diwata. Witnessing the violation of her babaylan, she unleashes a great flood shown by blue lights, but more impressively heard than seen as the music built up into a grand crescendo, complete with a classical soprano singing at the top of her range, while male singers chanted and prayed in despair to a silent god who has forsaken them, and a tidal wall of massed female dancers crept up to drown man's sin in cleansing water. Absolutely spine-tingling to recall!
All's well that ends well as life is renewed. "Buhay ay dudungaw," the singers joyfully proclaim, and dancers trade their browns for green dresses.
My favorite part was when the transparent set piece (by no less than National Artist Salvador Bernal!) that had shielded the musicians from view for most of the performance was finally lifted, and you could see the glad smiles in their faces as all were included in what felt like a final blessing. Dancers gathered in circle, as our mountain people really do, and the whole thing felt like a benediction.
The happy audience roared its adoration, and I actually lost count of the number of curtain calls! (At least five, perhaps six) EVERYONE stood up, and honestly I can't remember the last time I watched something that was truly deserving of this kind of recognition. Throw all the awards at ENCANTADA, as this is the sort of performance that makes one proud to be Filipino, that shows the best of our culture.
How wonderful it is, to be alive to see this!!!
Am so grateful to have been a part of the audience last night! Thank you so much to Theater Fans Manila and Alice Reyes Dance Philippines for the ticket!
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