Joel Lamangan and Bonifacio Ilagan’s new collaborative work bravely tackles red-tagging, political history, and the pursuit of truth

Spirit of the Glass opens with an ancestral house’s mainstay ghosts: Lolo Fernando, portrayed by veteran theatre actor and Tanghalang Pilipino’s artistic director Nanding Josef, and Lola Herminia, portrayed by renowned actor for film, television, and theatre Edna Mae Landicho. Utilising spectrality to draw out an overarching narrative for the play’s principal characters, Vivian (Elora Españo), Balé (Carlos Dala), Rory (Barbara Miguel), and the restless soul of Natalya (Angellie Sanoy), Spirit of the Glass radiated an eerie atmosphere throughout its duration, balanced by the idiosyncracies of young adult life. However, the fear that crept up the audience’s spine was not the unknown ghost characters’ doing but that of the bigger picture in the world Ilagan and Lamangan had built that trapped the characters into a foreboding progression of narratives.

“This is not your ordinary horror story,” said Lamangan. “These are ghosts of history who want their truths to be told.”

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“This play was inspired by the controversial incident of banning five books in 2022 written by authors, who were either current or former teachers at the University of the Philippines, studied and graduated from the said university,” said University of the Philippines president Angelo Jimenez. “These books lead us to UP’s proud tradition—the militant advancement of critical thinking, liberal education, free press, and freedom of expression in the arts and letters,” he continued.

In the backdrop of the formation of NTF-ELCAC, the passing of the Anti-Terrorism Act, and the rampant red-tagging of artists, media men, advocates, teachers, students, and more, Spirit of the Glass served as the voice of the oppressed, medium of the advocates, and stage for the discourses found necessary in these dire times.

“This play takes us into the discursive lives of youths searching for freedom amidst political oppression,” said UP Diliman College of Arts and Letters dean Jimmuel Naval. “Although briefly living in democracy due to some radical changes, the ghosts of the past are haunting them today,” he added.

One of the play’s highlights was the dialogue with Kapitan Franco (Edru Abraham), the barangay chairman, where the safe house inherited by Rory is situated. It depicted how a former activist was now forced to bend to the new rules because of pressure from his current political position. To say that Kapitan Franco had turned his back on what he once fought for because he now shakes hands with those in power begs the question. And yet, he still proved trustworthy, for at the end of the day, he had been striving for peace.

Did the fight against political oppression already weaken? Have we become indifferent because the revolution failed to ignite a radical shift in our history?

Ilagan utilised the Spirit of the Glass game to remind the audience how things transpired in our history. Playing a central part in the scene, it was at first predictable—conjuring the ghosts of the ancestral house, each representing a particular period in our long history of abuse and oppression. They were victims of human rights violations during the colonial period of the Spaniards, the American regime, Ferdinand Marcos’s Martial Law in the Seventies, up to the administration of former presidents Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and Rodrigo Duterte. In surreal, fleeting moments, these ghosts unravelled their pain, despair, and unfinished businesses in varied levels of suspense.

These scenes demonstrated the effectiveness of Ilagan’s text. However, this contrasted the exposition of NTF-ELCAC and the Anti-Terrorism Act through textual video projection, which made the play seem like an educational television show. If the objective was to educate, remind, and emotionally trigger the audience, the ghosts did more of that. However, it would still be fair to commend the video projections as they made the play digestible.

What kept audiences on the edge of their seats was how the personal lives of the living characters unfolded before their eyes. Teachers who have grown for their lives, Vivian and Balé, somehow found themselves bound by a growing romance amidst red-tagging. Badong discovered things about himself, as any non-conformist young adult would do nowadays. While Rory struggled to explore her fullest potential until her past traumas and blurred memories were clarified. In a way, they reflected the inner terrors that hamper today’s generation from striding and striving for this indefinite future.

As the play progressed, the gradual exorcism of society’s past unhinged the individual paths of the characters. Where each was heading was unknown. Red-tagging would continue to be a sinister stalker of these characters. The Anti-Terrorism Act is far from being repealed. And yet Rory and her other friends faced tomorrow with an optimistic outlook in the end.

Yes, playing the Spirit of the Glass is fearful—facing the terrifying ghosts of our past. But the characters remind us that, in truth, there is freedom. In defeating doubt, one takes faith. One hopes.

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