Katrina Francesca I.

Tagum
2013-14880

Kas2 Reaction Paper for

The Dressing Room: That Which Flows Away Ultimately Becomes Nostalgia

After scrambling to get the last ticket available for Friday night, I was able to
watch the Filipino adaptation of Dulaang UP’s The Dressing Room. Unlike the English
version, the Filipino version featured an all-male cast. This was a win-win scenario for
both Dulaang UP and the majority of the student population, as the English version
usually gets sold out fast. By assigning the all-male cast for the Filipino version,
Dulaang UP was able to leverage its resources and bank on cross-dressing comedy, a
big hit for the public.

The play-within-a-play revolves around four characters - Characters A and B,

sitting on their white Japanese robes while applying makeup ceremoniously; Character
C, dressed in full Victorian garb while rehearsing his (her?) lines for Anton Chekhov’s
“The Seagull”; and Character D, looking gaunt and sickly, asking back his (her?) role as
Nina.

The play had an ethereal, haunting and tragic feel to it despite having humorous
dialogues and witty banter. I found myself empathizing with the characters and
questioning the parallelisms between their lives and mine. I understood the struggle of
being long stuck with regrets from the past, and not being able to live out their dreams
in the present. The opening scene was pure genius. I was entranced with the actors’
precise movements while applying makeup. Makeup suddenly seemed spiritual, like a
sacrosanct theatre ritual for these backstage actors aspiring to appear onstage soon.
Their movements held me spellbound, and caught me in a half-conscious state.

To be completely truthful, I only attended the play for two reasons - first, to be
able to receive a grade incentive for Kas 2; and second, to end my stressful week on a
happy note. But the night took an unexpected twist. While the audience was transfixed
by the sheer irony of a “play-within-a-play”, I was more attuned to my inner workings
and the complex introspective interlude I was experiencing. I recognized parallelisms
between my life and significant parts of the play. The makeup ritual scene was the most
significant scene for me. No words were uttered during those first few precious minutes,
but the scene spoke great volumes to me. I was unprepared for what was to follow.

On the bad days when I’m on a depressive state, it feels as if my movements are
mechanical and rehearsed, similar to the swift and precise hand movements of the
actors. The actors seemed detached and lifeless, and I understood why the actors felt
that way. They used to be very ambitious with their dreams, quite full of aspirations and
self-expectations. But life was unfair. They were unable to live their dreams as much as
they wanted to. They were caught traumatized by their experiences and caught
themselves in a limbo of never-ending regret and self-pity. Limbo is in fact, a very
appropriate term for the play. The actors seemed like ghosts trapped within the same
set (limbo) for the entirety of the play. In fact, the actors didn’t just seem like ghosts.
They looked like ghosts!

In the end, the play imparted valuable lessons to the curious audience. I realized
that sufferings in life are inevitable. That’s life’s thesis statement! But seeing the comic
friendship between the two actors, I realized that fortunately, these dark states are
punctuated by brief moments of happiness, usually in the company of great friends.