Theatrical Review: Theatre Titas' TWENTY QUESTIONS by Juan Ekis

We call it "milagro." 

I found out what this slang word meant when I was told to avoid certain rooms and fields in college after dark, for "miracles" often took place there. Another miracle took place in Juan Ekis' play, written for a more conservative audience some twenty years ago. Lock two redblooded twenty-somethings, a boy and a girl, in a room for 24 hours. It would be a miracle if nothing happened.

I was witness to this attempt at a miracle in this 2023 restaging by Theatre Titas. It must be mentioned that the production company is composed of talents with ties to UA&P, a school known for its ultraconservative Catholic values. 

Catholic school alumni of a certain age are familiar with the Everts, a husband and wife team that go around the world preaching the message of chastity til marriage. Jason and Chrystalina Evert would have approved of TWENTY QUESTIONS. To underscore this, one of the characters proudly declares: "I take my faith seriously!"

Juan Ekis' play is a more enjoyable version of this (in)famous chastity talk. It's a dream play for those in the academe. If you need a short one-act play (running time was a little under an hour), espousing traditional values of saving one's self for marriage ("The best wedding gift for my spouse is my whole self!") and refraining from the contemporary practice of couples living in before marriage ("The real cowardice is this mock marriage without commitment... when we make our vows, it's sa hirap at ginhawa. What is living in but pure ginhawa?"), then TWENTY QUESTIONS is for you.

The idealism is sweet, the actors playing even sweeter. One wants nothing more than to preserve the innocence that Diego Aranda as Jigs conveys, which understandably makes his more sleazy leading lady want to ... uh... besmirch it.

We see a tacky neon pink design upon entering the venue. We assume we are in a love motel. Our two young protagonists enter, unease from every pore, in every awkward glance when they think the other isn't looking. Victims of a barkada tradition/prank, they are in pajamas as they face one day together, locked in one room.

The directing was effective. Wordlessly, the audience could easily surmise which one was the more innocent of the two. The more aggressive gender might not be the first one that comes to mind. Isabelle Prado's Yumi was the first one to break the touch barrier, the one who easily got bolder and very free, physically. 

The setup of the script allowed for easy jumps between profound and mundane matters, as boy asks girl 10 questions, and the other alternates with her own ten attempts to get to know the other better.

Isabelle Prado's inexperience is obvious beside her costar. She wasn't up to the challenge of conveying a life-altering deep dark secret convincingly. The director, Cheese Mendez, had her turn her back to the audience at a moment when she finally revealed all. One suspects that this was more to do with hiding a lack of necessary acting depth than any other reason.

There was also a scene that should have exploded more, but a lack of energy and risk-taking from both actors made for a missed opportunity. This audience member kept waiting for an emotional climax that never came.

In short, one comes away with a sense of potential unfulfilled, for here is an award winning script whose cleverness did  not fully come across on the night I watched due to the greenness of one of the leads, that no amount of charm could mask.

Then again, these are matters of energy, of one artist's depth of commitment to a role. This is something that can improve with succeeding runs.

This is a play that will be most appreciated by students getting into their first relationships. For the more mature crowd that I overheard on the evening I watched (conversations ranged from the difficulties of rearing children and the stresses of separating from a failed marriage), it may serve as a reminder that once upon a time, we too were as young, as innocent as that. 

One wonders if the call for chastity, for strict separation of a couple before their marriage, is still relevant in 2023. But there are those who will applaud the bravery of this surprisingly old fashioned play, that does not apologize for its vision of a simpler, truer love few are lucky enough to find.

And as a metaphor for cafeteria Catholics versus serious ones, and the vast difference in their lifestyles, it was more palatable and less insulting than most.

Thank you, Theaterfansmanila.com , for the ticket! Go read Nikki Francisco's review at the TFM page!