History as ‘steampunk’ entertainment
The first impression one gets upon seeing the title and poster of the musical play Mabining Mandirigma at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) is that here is a show about a gay noble warrior (“mabini” is a Tagalog adjective meaning, gentle, refined, mild and mellow). But as one gets to know more about the play, it becomes obvious that the title is a double entendre, the real “mabini” referring to one of the greatest figures of the Philippine Revolution, namely, Apolinario Mabini, conveniently but inadequately called the “Sublime Paralytic.”
Very little is known about this important historical character beyond his blurry portrait or drawing displayed along with those of many other Filipino heroes and presidents in grade and high school classrooms. How many of us know that Mabini was a brilliant lawyer who worked hard as a student at UST? And he contracted polio rather late in life? Shamefully, I didn’t, until the playwright told me so.
The play respectfully depicts the mind and the passion behind this patriot and nationalist. It begins with landmark events in the late 19th century (the martyrdom of Gomburza, the execution of Rizal in Bagumbayan, etc.) and moves on to the story, revealing Mabini’s foresight in unmasking the dishonesty and greed of the trapos of the time, especially those surrounding the President, the Congress in particular, his fervent proposals to the President who simply rejects them. None of it alludes to Mabini being “mabini.”
Does the title suggest that Mabini was gay? As with many other Filipino historical characters, research materials on Mabini’s personal life are scant. But the musical’s playwright, academician and historian Dr. Nicanor Tiongson says that Mabini’s name is also descriptive of his nature and demeanor. Tiongson even says that Mabini was not only gentle but feminine and effeminate. There is no conclusive evidence, however, that he was gay. Not that it matters. It did for some Americans when they were told about their own hero, the venerated American President Lincoln’s relationship and affectionate and loving letters to a long-time close male friend, which don’t really verify his sexual orientation.
That Mabini in Tanghalang Pilipino’s three-weekend run of Mabining Mandirigma was played by a woman would reinforce the idea that he could be gay. But this does not appear to be the director’s intention. Beyond the fact that this title character was played by a female actor, nothing in the play touches on any of his leisure preoccupations or his intimate relationships. The lines mouthed by Delphine Buencamino’s Mabini, in fact, dwell on ideas, and though she projects different levels of emotion — she talks, stands up for her principles, rages and cries — she is consistently tough. Manly if you please.
Tiongson says it is Brechtian in that the ideas precede character identity or gender. This tradition of male/female actors playing roles belonging to the opposite sex isn’t new. The director of the show, veteran theater artist Chris Millado, whose idea of this turnabout Mabini role it was, talks about “casting design blind to genders and color” which is “not uncommon in Asian theater and dance.” Over at the all-male Ateneo, boys played girl parts in campus drama productions of Shakespeare and other dramatists up to the ‘60s, thus Medea, Ophelia and Desdemona were played by perfectly straight actors — without any hang-up.
With this in mind, nobody needs to worry that the novelty of a woman playing the principal role of a male character would wear off. With Buencamino doing the male role, she does it so well that the audience forgets she is a woman, except for her voice, and viewers invariably get used to the idea, their interest soon focused on what is happening, the drama and the ideas.
If Mabini were played by a tenor, two male voices (Mabini’s and Emilio Aguinaldo’s) would fill the air most of the time since the musical is practically a verbal (okay, musical) joust between the two protagonists, and that might be monotonous to the ears. Or Mabini could be eclipsed by Aguinaldo, played by the tall and dashing Arman Ferrer who commands the stage with his imperious presence and soaring voice.
There is irony in Buencamino, a so-called triple threat artist (one proficient in acting, singing and dancing) used to the freedom of conquering time and space with her lithe and flowing movements, being confined in a wheelchair. She only gets up from her chair to join an imaginary dancing chorus. Still, wheelchair-bound, she conveys a mind that has no boundaries. The body may be confined but she’s free.
Apart from Mabini, other real-life characters make quick cameos, like Mark Twain (of Huckleberry Finn), the American literary idol who protested and condemned his government’s genocide of Filipinos, and William Howard Taft — also played by female actors.
Thus the play has continuous surprises. Millado calls the show a “steampunk musical.” Joed Balsamo’s music to Tiongson’s dialogues is a mishmash of styles from Roaring ‘20s rag, to atonal Broadway and finally a stirring anthem.
“Steampunk” elements may also appear in some of the actors’ hairstyles and costumes, in the hiphop movements of some male dancers, in the mention of contemporary terms or acronym like pork barrel and PDAF (words that fire up the audience), and in the cast using a mobile phone to do a selfie. In the closing scene, Mabini even pulls out a selfie stick and the cast automatically sticks together like a bunch of grapes for a group selfie.
One may wonder if these bold steampunk anachronisms have a place in such a serious turnof-the-century drama. Millado and the artistic staff (Balsamo, dramaturg Manny Pambid, choreographer Denisa Reyes, set designer Toym Imao and costume designer James Reyes), however, limit these to a minimum so as not to detract the audience from the import of the unfolding events, yet still showing creative ideas and making the scenes fresh, moving and exciting.
Overall, the play is able to delineate useful history lessons that keep the audience rapt and entertained, such as from the tenuous relationship between Mabini and Aguinaldo, the former as chief adviser then chief minister and the latter as shady, untrustworthy boss (the President has respect and even cares for him but not when the chips are down); Mabini’s grand design for an independent republic and his advice to the President rejected anyway; and ultimately his disappointment, sadness and despair.
In between new developments overtake events: Gen. Luna is assassinated; the Americans gain influence; Mabini is exiled to Guam. It is a rich history lesson we should have been taught properly in school. The play keeps the level of discourse on a higher plane, which should make the issue of the hero’s personal traits, like his gentle ways, irrelevant.