Unearthing the Memories of Our Formative Years in ‘Virgin Labfest XX’s Set A: Bubot’
Unearthing the Memories of Our Formative Years in ‘Virgin Labfest XX’s Set A: Bubot’
Feature art by Abigail Manaluz
The first set of every festival teases us with what to expect moving forward, but it’s never a concrete indicator of what will happen next. Much like in real life, our childhood experiences may shape our future but do not necessarily define them. Aptly titled Bubot, the first set of Virgin Labfest’s 20th season immerses us in stories mostly associated with our formative years. Bubot—a term closely tied to immaturity and underdevelopment—captures a moment that once existed before and during our early teens. This set forces us to revisit a time repressed by college and work, resurfacing memories indiscriminately: the good, the bad, and the so-so.
VLF XX’s Ang Bata kag ang Ilaga. Directed by Siglo and written by Lian Carlo Suelan. Retrieved from Cultural Center of the Philippines’ Facebook page.
Ang Bata Kag Ang Ilaga is a cacophony of variations; it masterfully intermixes several languages—offering small crumbs of context for the non-native—and its characters—with the glaring contrast of the puppet lead with its human counterparts. This variety simultaneously depicts the multiculturalism found in small communities like child care centers, while also emphasizing the “otherness” that comes with being an orphan.
While petty fights and playful banter are typical for a child, it’s the quiet moments—like a hug from a caring parent—that leave permanent scars on those who grow up without one. The juxtaposition of Isaac and his beloved pet rat becomes a powerful symbol of creatures labeled as unwanted. His reluctance to let his new companion be caught perfectly captures a child’s naïveté, but it also raises a haunting question: Why only save some, but not the others?
The emotional climax and ending, though abrupt due to the play’s one-act structure, echo one of the deepest fears a person may carry: finding personal fault in one’s abandonment. The abundance of dull grays in the set serves as a painful reminder of what has already happened, but it is through the small bursts of color from the rest of the cast that we find the answer to what Isaac seeks. Though he is without a parent, he should not be without love—whether through the people at the child care center, or in becoming the caring figure he never had.
VLF XX’s Takbo, Batang Tondo. Directed by Chic San Agustin-De Guzman and written by Yoj. Retrieved from Cultural Center of the Philippines’ Facebook page.
From its title and poster, Takbo, Batang Tondo certainly rings a bell to followers of Coco Martin’s television hits. But the play’s characters are closer in spirit to Allen Prodigalidad’s Leslie, Germie, Benjie, Trixie (2025), albeit tagalized: girl, boy, bakla, tomboy. The story evokes childhood memories buried deep in the mind of a millennial—or Gen Z in their mid-20s—and introduces archetypes of a typical Filipino playmate: the rich kid who had all the toys, the sycophant who trailed behind them, a keptol (kleptomaniac), and the rowdy troublemaker.
There’s a saying that brutal honesty doesn’t come from adults, but from children who’ve yet to develop a moral filter. Their actions commonly reflect the environments they’ve grown up in and mirror the people they’re surrounded by. The play’s use of a common childhood game—that being play pretend—becomes the perfect metaphor in exposing society’s worst traits without being overly explicit.
The playful blame game, which slowly turns more personal over time, is both nostalgic and entertaining, especially through the constant forming and breaking of alliances, something the immature child-at-heart in the audience can definitely relate to. The twist at the end is unexpected, though not entirely surprising, and when paired with the politically charged quips—mostly around social class microaggressions—it rounds off a play that keeps you laughing until the lights go out.
VLF XX’s Polar Coordinates. Directed by Paolo O’Hara and written by Ade Valenzona. Retrieved from The Manila Times.
A question that everyone collectively ignores, but has probably asked themselves at some point: Why do we pressure literal teenagers to decide their future at that age? It’s not entirely absurd to think that no one really knows who they want to be at fifteen—the age when acne and rejection from a crush feel like cataclysmic events. Polar Coordinates adds the elements that sum up a typical high schooler’s experience: math and existential crisis—showing the power of finding your own path.
The integration of a mathematical concept is a brilliant way to explore a teenager’s dilemma, whether it be their future career or sexual identity, as math teaches multiple solutions to the same problem. We’re only taught the standard way of living: pick a strand, take a related degree, land a related job, die, and maybe try to live a little in between. But the idea of the play highlights the fact that solutions can’t always be found using the conventional methods of x’s and y’s; you need to think differently, use unconventional elements, like radius and angle, to find the answers you are looking for.
While the play ticks all the boxes that make it highly interesting—infidelity, math puns, and boys’ love—it lacks the subtlety needed to truly land its point. Its predictability and heavily expository nature water down key revelations, preventing them from reaching emotional depth, as they’re too easily anticipated. The lack of spontaneity and surprise might be intentional, but the execution of the concept may have worked better as a short film than a stage performance. This, however, did not hold back certain performances, especially those of the main character, his mom, and his teacher (played by Jack Denzel, Martha Comia, and Sheryll Villamor Ceasico, respectively), who all managed to have their emotional moments. The latter, in particular, having it on every scene she’s in; probably the best scene stealer of the set, and maybe the entire festival season.
