The Sandbox Collective’s ‘Tiny Beautiful Things’ shows us that it’s okay to be vulnerable

Tiny Beautiful Things is held up by its amazing cast. Of course, Iza Calzado deserves much praise for her standing ovation-worthy performance. When Calzado was revealed to play Sugar during the final show of Little Shop of Horrors, fans were hyped to see her return to theatre, and her homecoming did not disappoint.

While known for his works in comedy, Ketchup Eusebio acted his heart out—perfectly characterising the silly letters in true Ketchup fashion while painfully communicating the sorrow and trauma of the heavier ones. Gabby Padilla continued this trend with a great depiction of panic, trauma, and uncertainty through each character she played. Expectations are high with Rody Vera, a veteran in the industry, and he delivered a showstopping portrayal of a man who lost his son to a drunk driver. The play had plenty of heartwrenching themes, but that specific scene made me cry.

Brian Sy and Regina De Vera alternate as the letter writers.

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Kayla Teodoro’s set design was simple yet exceptional. We were in Sugar’s apartment, and the set had a homey feel.

On one side, we have the kitchen with a fully functional faucet and appliances, while the dining area takes centre stage, where Sugar would often read her e-mails on the table. Nothing was static in the room, making it feel even more alive. For instance, Sugar would make coffee before attending to her letters, and its smell would waft through the air.

Being staged in the Power Mac Blackbox Theatre, the audience was very close to the actors, making it feel very intimate.

Jamora’s decision to never stray from Sugar’s apartment was something that I appreciated greatly. While the letter writers were never truly in the space, they would often interact with their surroundings. It starts relatively simple, with the characters doing simple tasks like making a cup of coffee or turning on a lamp, but as the play progresses, we begin to see how much Sugar shares with the letter writers. For instance, some of the characters would start washing dishes or even repair a broken light bulb, reflecting how their personalities have grown as a community. This isn’t just Sugar’s apartment; it is a shared space where anyone can make themselves at home just as they are willing to be helpless to a stranger.

One detail I liked was that the letter writers’ genders weren’t explicit unless stated—and even if it was stated, it wasn’t exclusive to an actor. For instance, letters sent by women could be played by Vera or Eusebio, showing us that even though a woman was the one who asked for advice, anyone could struggle that way.

Tiny Beautiful Things reminds us of many things while teaching us something new. It points out the importance of seeking help and that no man is an island. It shows us the beauty of anonymity and familiar communities—to have the ability to open up to a stranger and become our most vulnerable selves. Through this, we are reassured that there will be no judgment, only radical sincerity and open arms. It teaches us that there will always be someone to turn to—even when all hope is lost, someone will listen to our story.

Tiny Beautiful Things runs until December 8 at the Power Mac Center Spotlight Blackbox Theater, Circuit Makati. For more information, visit the Sandbox Collective’s social media pages.

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