This playwright creates not for himself—but for his country and the people he works with.
From his recent works like Ardór and Nekropolis to Mga Kuneho and Bait, he utilises theatre to denounce oppressors and tell the truths of those silenced. In his most recent production, The Impossible Dream, as part of PETA’s restaging of Kumprontasyon, we see a hypothetical conversation between the late President Ferdinand E Marcos and Senator Ninoy Aquino. What unfolds is a frightful picture of our country’s obsession with the two personalities.
“Theatre is a political phenomenon. It is very public. It is polemic. No matter what kind. Even musicals, which are ‘purely for entertainment purposes’, are never just for entertainment. They always have a political unconscious,” said Guelan Luarca, playwright, director, and actor.
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Above Guelan Luarca Ardor (Photo: Facebook)
Growing up with a theatre actor for a father, Luarca often watched his dad rehearse in the living room. Sometimes holding the script for him, sometimes following the lines himself so he can help when his father forgets something. This early exposure is what he credits to his powerful vocabulary in Filipino. At the age of six, Luarca had already decided to pursue a career in theatre. “My dad told me and my ate [sister] to hurry up and prepare because he wanted to take us to his play—Lysistrata—where he was an actor. We were already late, so we rushed and arrived at the CCP. Put yourself in my shoes—you’re this little kid, and you see this beautiful, huge place … My introduction to classical theatre was by way of the backstage—unlike most people. It’s like attending your first magic show, but you immediately see how the trick works,” shares Luarca.
Like a manifestation of fate, Luarca’s first introduction to classical and institutional theatre was directed by the renowned Ricardo G Abad, who became his mentor and close friend.

Above Ricky Abad (Photo: Facebook)
Come high school, Luarca joined Ateneo High School's theatre group, Teatro Baguntao, which was led by Bok Pioquid—who he considers to be the first “dad” that he lost. Here he met one of the teachers who would empower him in theatre—Ron Capinding. “He [Capinding] got me to act in a Filipino version of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. He wanted to put up another Shakespeare play in my graduating year and told me to translate it. After the show, I remember Sir Ricky coming up to me and congratulating me—essentially giving me very generous praise. That was my first encounter with him,” said Luarca.
Armed with a strong passion for theatre, Luarca joined Tanghalang Ateneo in his college years, where he worked with Abad. Luarca always saw Abad as one of the greats. Abad saw plenty of potential in Luarca and treated him not as a student—but as an equal. “We theatre kids would usually finish our classes or cut the whole day, then spend time rehearsing. After 10pm, we’d go to our favourite bar in front of Ateneo with Sir Ricky and the entire Tanghalang Ateneo. I’d say that’s where the real mentoring happens. This is where we talk about life, art, and plays. My proudest moment from those nights is that Sir Ricky often asked me for my opinion. He didn’t coddle me. I was a collaborator—a colleague almost,” Luarca reminisces.

Above Nekropolis cover (Photo: Tanghalang Pilipino)
Usually exploring political themes through the lens of a dystopia, Luarca tells stories that wish to bring about social reform—blatantly pointing out systemic problems without fearing backlash. Despite this pattern in writing, his plays all come from his characters. “I only start to realize what a play is about halfway through it … I’m drawn to characters—and I think it’s common among many playwrights—and sometimes it’s easier just to let your characters speak and tell us what the play is about,” says Luarca.
Luarca’s creative process involves plenty of false starts. As a procrastinator, he often needs the pressure of a deadline to work—though he is trying to break that habit. He absolutely swears by writing when you’re not in the mood. Writing is a very mood-based activity. Inspiration hits randomly, and if you aren’t struck by it, it can feel debilitating to force words out of your mouth. For Luarca, it’s when you feel uninspired is when you’re at your most truthful. “I’m still learning how to fight against writer’s block. There is no shortcut. One has to write through it. When you’re not feeling it, there’s no other source of the writing but the honest and naked place. When you’re in the mood, your creativity can come up with lies, it can be dishonest, it can be performative to imagine a you that writes in a specific tone.”

Above (Photo: Facebook)
For aspiring playwrights, Luarca has simple advice: befriend the industry. A firm believer that plays are written for the actors bringing the writer’s characters to life, Luarca creates for the community—always keeping his students, colleagues, and mentors in mind. “I don’t think becoming a playwright is possible if you are not surrounded by at least five actors as best friends. Because who are you writing for if not actors? I’m going to contradict myself here. You can very well write for yourself, for someone in your life, for your God, for someone you love, for your trauma. That’s all valid. But personally, I write for actors. I write because what motivates me is the thought that some Filipino actors would be willing to act this out on stage to become these characters. That, for me, is magical,” he says.

Above Guelan Luarca (Photo:Facebook)
Currently, Luarca is in New York, furthering his studies. While many would consider him one of this generation’s greats, he believes that he still has much to learn in writing and teaching. “I still see myself as an aspiring playwright. What I say now will probably change in a week … After my time here in America, I’ll probably pick up where I left off. I have a couple of projects I’d like to return to in the Philippines,” Luarca says.
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