Comparison is odious.
But it’s inevitable not to see the difference between Lea Salonga’s and Dolly de Leon’s portrayal of the sole character in “Request sa Radyo” — a wordless play originally written in 1972 as “Request Concert” by German actor-playwright Franz Xaver Kroetz, and which is on its last night at the Samsung Performing Arts Theater in Circuit Makati on Oct. 20, with two separate performances at 7 p.m. and 9 p.m.
I caught the Oct. 18 shows, with Salonga doing the 7 p.m. and De Leon the 9 p.m. slot of the 75-minute play.
The Manila production, directed by Bobby Garcia and set in present-day New York, is a clinical, almost boring glimpse at the last few hours of a single female OFW medical worker, who gets home from work, cooks dinner while listening on her iPad to a lady DJ-hosted program (the play’s title), draws on an artwork, fiddles through her mobile phone, washes her uniform, puts cream on a pimple, reads a prayer booklet, and lies down to sleep, only to get up again and pop one too many sleeping pills — after which the stage blacks out.
Did she kill herself on impulse, or is the implied suicide the last stage of a depressive state gripping the character which, according to the program notes, is named Ms. Reyes.
Kroetz, in the same program notes, reveals the theme of his play as “a possible visualization of facts in police reports that have often struck me. In many instances, suicide takes place with incredible tidiness. The preparations proceed as one part of a daily, and therefore normal, routine, and the act is undertaken with the same love of order, as cleanly, stolidly, and dumbly despairingly as the life which led to it.”
Salonga interprets Ms. Reyes’ actions with a sense of boredom and stoicism. Her face has a blank expression, and her slow movements hint of fatigue.
Her obsessive-compulsive behavior shows when she repetitiously wipes off a stain on the dining table, neatly folds plastic bags, carefully fixes the toilet paper — things no longer seen as weird today. Perhaps you and I know of others with rather irritating habits.
She eats her veggies and rice slowly and then stops, maybe a thought crosses her mind, before she moves to check her mobile phone and do other trivial stuff.
As “Request sa Radyo” streams on her iPad, she springs to life when the lady DJ (voiced by Fil-Am actor Melody Butiu) puts on Bamboo’s “Hallelujah.” Salonga dances, plays air drums, and uses a piece of paper as a mic and lip-syncs: “Anong balita sa radyo at TV / Ganoon pa rin, kumakapa sa dilim…”
And then she goes back to her routine which includes preparing her hospital uniform for tomorrow, brushing her teeth, washing up, setting her sofa bed — everything in a mechanical method while looking really bored and aimless.
Dolly’s disturbed look
In contrast, De Leon enters thej apartment with a peculiar, disturbed look, her eyes a mute expression of loneliness and pain.
She does the same mundane tasks but with a hurried gait. She’s not as neat as Salonga when fixing things, and eats with her legs in an Indian-sit position. My companion says she was half-expecting De Leon to have dinner with her bare hands.
Even the way she dances to the music is different, almost manic like punks and metalheads, while drumming her hands on the dining table and cabinet.
De Leon’s most striking quirks are her momentary pauses that suggest incidents, or maybe scenes that mean much to her personally.
In one instance, while washing her face, she stops, her hands covering her eyes, but it’s unsure whether she’s thinking of something sad, or merely counting a few seconds to let the washing cream seep into her face.
More contrasts come when De Leon throws down her drawing on the floor, after lovingly taking a long look and taking photos of it from various angles.
In the praying scene, Salonga does it simply by internalizing the text in the prayer booklet, but De Leon acts like a Quiapo devotee — mumbling prayers in a fervent manner before kissing small statues, including one of the Sto. Niño.
The moments leading to the abrupt ending has De Leon swallowing a few pills and then running to the toilet in an attempt to throw up — this may seem like a spur-of-the-moment afterthought, but it’s a very telling sign that she’s having scary, second thoughts about overdosing.
But she goes back to the table and pops the remaining pills, washing them down with red wine. (Salonga sips a glass of what looks like whisky.)
I’m inclined to say De Leon fits her character to a T. It doesn’t mean Salonga does it badly, it’s just that she may have opted for a minimalist approach — which suits the playwright’s intentions.
There’s also another way of watching the play to keep from getting bored: Appreciate it like scenes from real life, the ordinary days and nights when nothing seems to happen, or when you’re engrossed in something and the hours go by silently.
It’s like watching a Lav Diaz film, though “Request sa Radyo” runs for just over an hour.
The songs
Oh, yes, one more thing, and this is equally important, the songs that break the silence of the play — a total of eight, including Juan Karlos’ “Buwan,” Ben&Ben’s “Leaves,” and Ice Seguerra’s “Pagdating ng Panahon”— keep Ms. Reyes good company as she winds down her day.
These are fine choices, but to include Lokal Brown’s “Pay U” and The Jerks’ “Reklamo nang Reklamo” is brilliant.
“Pay U,” a satirical view of foreign debt and globalization with ethnic rhythms, features Pendong Aban (Asin, Grupong Pendong) and Carla Abaya (Identity Crisis) in a duet, with Chickoy Pura on third vocals.
“Reklamo nang Reklamo” is the famous rant on colonial mentality by Pura’s band, The Jerks, on a reggae beat.
These two tracks had me grooving in my seat.
Hats off to the music director, but I hope the play’s producers paid royalties or at least asked permission from the songs’ respective composers and record labels.
A source tells me Pura was not even informed.
Image credits: Pocholo Concepcion
