Cover Mamamayang ngalan ay Inara
Mamamayang ngalan ay Inara
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'Nekropolis', Guelan Varela-Luarca’s final dystopian play about the Philippines is a love letter to the Filipino people and a poison pen letter for the current state of the country
"Will there be no end to human conflicts? Will there be no end to oppression and killing of fellow human beings?" Nanding Josef, artistic director of Tanghalang Pilipino, says.
In a city where people have gotten used to the sound of gunshots and sirens, we follow our characters as they try to survive and find meaning in their lives. To help cope with the systemic problems, they attempt to numb the swelling through drugs, sex, and faith. Though all roads eventually lead to revolution, some struggle to find the meaning of it.
Luarca's final salvo on the dystopian theme had viewers shaken to their core as they were plunged into a setting hauntingly accurate to how a developing country is being governed lately. A loud disclaimer at the front door set the tone for the play—evidence that the playwright, director, dramaturg, and actors did not pull any punches.
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Above Disclaimer at the front door
Disclaimer at the front door
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Luarca had written Nekropolis with three different contexts in mind. "Like a fish, I felt like I was wriggling inside a net," he said.
First, the play is a product of a term called "Dulambayanihan." Coming from the word "dula" (play) and "bayanihan" (loosely translates to unity or camaraderie), Nekropolis was born through deep collaboration and improvisation sessions involving everyone. The playwright and director to the stage manager and cast members, everyone participated in the workshop and spoke their minds on what they could do better.
Second, Luarca wrote the script while he was studying a playwriting course in New York. His professor told him, "Write your artist's statement and read it aloud in class. It has to contain your identity and your aspirations as a playwright." So many thoughts had been running through his mind. His notes from class, new lessons he had learned in New York, plays he had seen there, experiences in different cities, the intense feeling of grief, the stomach-turning events in the Philippines, the distance from home, the pain of losing hope from the recent elections.
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All these things have amalgamated into what he calls the most painful thing he's ever written. He wrote, "The recent political developments in my country have taught me that... the Pinoy I used to love, know, and identify with was just a lie. And that Pinoys are people that I did not know all along."
"So maybe, in an impossible, purely symbolic way (since I have no delusions that art can save a nation), I can salvage the Pinoy I know from here, in diaspora, and by relying purely on sense-memory, to hopefully reconstruct that Philippines that felt safe, familiar, kind, OR purge this stranger Pinoy that I've just gotten to know, that's blind, backward, spiritually and mentally impoverished. . .and [who are ready to] erase all nobility from their national memory through historical denialism. . .It's one thing to be a stranger in a foreign land. It's another to have been a stranger in your land of birth and finding that out belatedly."
Third, Nekropolis is the final dystopian play about the Philippines that Luarca would ever write. His farewell to what he calls "kung-anuman-itong-pinagdadaanan-kong-pighati-ukol-sa-bayan." Not because the fight is over but because of an epiphany. A calling to be meek and luminous. As the storm surges above our beloved homeland, the clouds will clear up again.
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Above (Photo: Jon Hipe)
Above Nekropolis
(Photo: Jon Hipe)
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A harrowing status quo
Above The stage
The stage
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The city of Nekropolis is "plagued" by drug pushers—enemies of the state, the mayor labelled them. The sound of distant screams and gunshots fills the air as the police hunt down addicts. The characters (and the audience) couldn't help but flinch every time they were heard.
The city is divided into two districts. The aptly named Jeproks, where the lower class people reside, and Mariposa, where the rich, privileged and powerful live. At the heart of the Mariposa district (and the city) stood the Triumph Tower, a monument to the city's prideful nature—akin to the story of the Tower of Babel. It is described as the tallest structure in Asia, its height defying all logic, and nearly wobbling and close to collapse.
Revolution? A word that has lost all meaning due to the middle-class romanticising its use. Saying they're for the revolution when they live in privilege and ignore those getting killed.
Read more: Looking through the lens of 'Woman: Thesis and Antithesis' at Yuchengco Museum
Characters that encompass everyone
Above Marco Viaña bilang MIGGS
Marco Viaña bilang MIGGS
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Above Mark Lorenz bilang ALEX 1
Above Vince Macapobre bilang ALEX 2
Mark Lorenz bilang ALEX 1
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Above Lhorvie Nuevo bilang CLAIRE
Above Mitzi Comia bilang KARINA
Lhorvie Nuevo bilang CLAIRE
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Above Jonathan Tadioan bilang SIKOLOGO
Above Antonette Go-Yadao bilang INARA
Jonathan Tadioan bilang SIKOLOGO
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Above Arjhay Babon bilang IGNATIUS
Above Sarah Monay bilang LUMEN
Arjhay Babon bilang IGNATIUS
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Above Edrick Alcontado bilang KAESKWELA
Above Judie Dimayuga bilang KAPITANA
Edrick Alcontado bilang KAESKWELA
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The scene opens with Miggs rambling about the possibilities of tomorrow. Torn about the promise of progress and what we're willing to lose in the name of it, his internal conflict illustrates what could be, what should be, and what would be.
Two characters both named Alex from different districts meet under a bridge. While gunshots can be heard and they quiver in fear, they remain focused on what they want most. To have sex and ignore the world burning around them. While Alex from the Mariposa district later joins the cause to support the fascist mayor, Alex from the Jeproks district continues to ignore the revolution and look for new partners.
The story of Claire and Karina starts off with lighthearted fun and giddiness. Claire is a student in a state college while Karina is a pusher that has hypergraphia. This happy-go-lucky friendship has us rooting for a peaceful ending for the two, yet it's torn away from us as they both face conflict on what needs to be done. Claire puts her idea of the revolution into action, while Karina fears for their lives.
Sikologo, Inara, Ignatius, and Lumen's scenes hold sinister meanings on faith and power. Being part of a church group, siblings Ignatius and Lumen go into hiding as their leader abuse Lumen. It is then revealed that Ignatius also abuses Lumen and Sikologo and Inara works to protect her from everyone who wishes to harm her.
Charlotte and her friend only named "Kaibigan" are two middle-class housewives who volunteer at the soup kitchen. At first seen as comic relief characters, Charlotte and her friend dance around the stage to the sound of gym music. With Charlotte's determination to get a better figure for her husband, she vigorously stomps and shouts that she will stop feasting on instant noodles. Though this resolution—and her spirit— is broken when she finds her husband browsing through photos of child pornography. Though she found hope in someone she met and communicated through Morse code just outside her window. A chance to start anew.
The spirit of rebellion is embodied by the characters Kaeskwela, Kapitana, and eventually, Claire, who take to the streets to fight the mayor's tyrannical rule. Kaeskwela, Claire's classmate, is shot during a rally and harshly tells Claire that their kind has ruined the meaning of the word "rebolusyon." While Kapitana, the leader of the opposition spreads her message to the people to rise up and fight.
The people cry out for strength that is already theirs. It's time for the revolution.
An explosive finale
Everyone's individual stories coincide in the final scene of the revolution. Chaos ensued, and people went left and right, all while being documented by Karina, who chose to hide amidst the battle. Her graphic storytelling, with the riotous visuals, made for an unnerving experience. The chaos/concurrent events on stage showed us what a true revolution would look like. It won't be pleasant. It won't be peaceful. It's what it looks like—violent.
Like a wormhole that connects two realities, the city of Nekropolis is an exaggeration of the systemic problems we face today. The different ways of coping were masterfully captured by the characters, the setting instilled dread in its viewers, and every dialogue flowed naturally and delivered painful stabs to the heart. Nekropolis is Guelan Luarca's magnum opus and a fitting farewell to the genre.
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About
Gabriel found his passion for writing through poetry in high school. He sharpened his skills at Ateneo de Manila University and hopes to write a play worthy of Broadway one day. A self-proclaimed geek, he loves to spend his free time playing video games and board games. When he's not clicking heads on Valorant or roleplaying as a barbarian in Dungeons and Dragons, you can find him exploring art galleries or watching stage plays.
Work
A creative writer who writes about anything and everything, Gabriel loves to dive deep into the arts and culture scene—as well as going on long road trips for travel pieces.
You can reach him on Instagram at @gbohol for any leads, casual conversations or game invites.
