THE RECONCILIATION DINNER (redux) is truly a magnificent play about how people change throughout time, and how politics can change us.
The frame narrative is about two dinners, held seven years (and two presidential administrations) apart. The matriarchs of two families were college best friends, and so, they become ninangs to each other's children, and the husbands also become pals over the course of many years of friendship.
When I saw the unforgettable first run six months ago, I was a different person. For one thing, I hadn't started commuting yet. I still belonged to that extremely privileged group that saw the world through the tint of a car window, shut in an ivory tower.
What does my commuting have to do with anything?
Everything.
If you want to see the real Philippines, go ride a jeep to your appointment. If you want to see kindness and patience in your fellow man, go ride buses. (Not the P2P ones with tickets that cost over P100! Those aren't quite the same! But the ones that get filled to capacity... then get filled some more. "The bus is not full til your face is nearly kissing the other person's!" sings the conductor cheerfully.)
Sure, there's always the troublemaker, the one who disobeys the conductor, choosing chaos over order. But they're rare.
And sure, there are times that jeeps do not come as expected, and sometimes the MRT is closed for repair, so one has to hoof it (and lose some pounds along the way!).
But there's something positively holy about the commuting experience, I find. When you're brought into such close proximity with the sea of Filipino humanity... it changes you.
There's no us vs. them. It's only us.
And whatever proud disdain I used to have as a result of political affiliation melted away when I became the recipient of many kindnesses, unasked for and undeserved, in the course of these months of travelling as most of my countrymen do.
So it was with a very different set of eyes that I happily viewed one of the best theatrical experiences of 2022, expecting that it would surely be better this second time around. (And yes, I commuted on the way and spent only P24.00!)
And it was indeed better, in many ways. The incredible chemistry between the two female leads (Stella Cañete-Mendoza and Frances Makil-Ignacio) became even more brilliant to watch. The added lines not only brought us up to speed in terms of the latest government "news," with the old lines still tickling our funny bones. Knowing that favorite jokes are coming adds to the enjoyment, and does not detract!
But also, there was a new horror on the afternoon I watched. An unintended side effect, perhaps, but no less chilling.
(And this is no fault of the playwright, for any artist who births an artwork cannot be held responsible for how it impacts others.)
I speak of the horrible moment when, overcome with emotions at some lines that also shocked me deeply upon my first hearing them half a year ago, many members in the audience shouted YES!!!!! when extreme violence was suggested onstage. And I heard some laugh angrily, as well.
And these reactions chilled me to my core.
There were additional lines as well, that focused on the class difference between pinks and reds, although the richer family between the two voted for the side that won ("We don't believe in Tallano Gold," they're quick to say, as if to separate themselves from the rabble). "And yet, despite all my financial help to my employees, they voted for the current president," bemoans Frances Makil-Ignacio, earning sympathetic nods from the crowd.
It is no accident that the most common artwork to be found in this country is a picture of a teacher having dinner with both friend and foe.
There is something holy about breaking bread. It becomes holier, still, when we share a meal with people we think are different from us. For when we dine with them, we discover that we aren't that different, after all.
Plays are products of their time. This particular play, this perfect mix of funny and sad and painful as all the best plays are, is no different. Here's hoping that it is received by audiences not as a marker of identity (a lot of pink shirts were worn in the audience), or shared group therapy over less-than-ideal election results... but as an honest invitation to reflect on how best to move forward.
Playwright Floy Quintos had his characters admit that yes, it feels so good sometimes to wallow in our collective hurt and vindictiveness... but it's not what our candidate would want. It's not the kind of country we believe in, that we voted for.
And while one character says "It's going to be like this from now on. Kanya-kanya na," perhaps this audience member is still young enough to think that this is not a self-fulfilling prophecy, but only a sad thought from a temporary weakness of spirit.
Elections are years in the making. We have some time until the next one. But no Messiah, no matter how gifted, is going to save this country. It's going to take ALL of us to do it. And ultimately, that's what this beautiful gift of a play means to me. RECONCILIATION over DINNER. Just because one fails one time, doesn't mean we stop trying to weave the torn fabric of society together. Kaya natin 'to!
Thank you Theaterfansmanila.com for the ticket! Go to the TFM page to read Nikki Francisco's review!
Click here to read my review of the first staging of THE RECONCILIATION DINNER (November 2022).
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