Rinabeth Apostol, Ellen D. Williams, Josh Odsess-Rubin, Jason Rogel, and Ryan Nebreja
(Photo by M Palma Photography)
Reviewed by Amanda L. Andrei
Artists at Play and Latino Theater Company
Through Sept. 29
RECOMMENDED
I first encountered the Santo Nino in the Philippines, not the United States. With imperial crimson robes and diamond-studded crowns, the Christ-as-a-child statuettes lived on the shelves and corners of homes, danced on the arms of processioners during fiestas, and bestowed grace upon devotees and penitents. Friends would tell me stories about the figures in their homes. Some of them moved about when no one was looking, hearkening to our animist roots that imbue objects with mystery and mischief. Seeing the bejeweled boy Jesus in Nicholas Pilapil’s new family dramedy, God Will Do the Rest, promises similar mischief, celebration, and redemption, though this promise is weighted with an immigrant experience that exposes the clash of American and Filipino values.
Filipina matriarch Maggie de Dios (Rinabeth Apostol) gathers her family for the weekend at their home in Cerritos to celebrate her birthday, deciding this year to include devotional rituals to the Santo Nino. With her high energy and singsong cadence, Apostol channels the ostentatious charm of a former glam girl now turned elderly housewife, who cooks, cleans, and chastises family members. Older daughter and recent divorcee Connie (a touchingly dour and vulnerable Ellen D. Williams) already lives with them; she’s close with her young adult son Tanner (a snappy Ryan Nebreja) who learns about his Filipino heritage through books and cooking. High-achieving younger daughter and real estate agent Fritzie (a dynamic Josette Canilao) brings her Jewish fiancé (a sweetly gawky Josh Odsess-Rubin) to the festivities, while hardworking father Ferdie (a grizzled yet sensitive Reggie Lee) ensures that Maggie’s wishes are carried out by the family.
Under Fran de Leon’s lively direction, the de Dios family flourishes with distinct voices amidst large Filipino family chaos. Jason Rogel steals the show as Babette, Maggie’s sister and tita to Connie and Fritzie. Whether asking for more wine, admiring the puti (white guy), or pronouncing “hippopotamus,” Rogel’s comedic timing and presence infuses the show with Big Tita Energy while simultaneously queering that energy by providing a layer of Filipino culture that revels in spectacular drag shows, gay beauty pageants, and the blurring of gender. Juxtaposed against the impeccably detailed kitchen and sala (scenic designer Leah Ramillano and props designer Rye Mandel have outdone themselves in attention to detail with the tubs of Skyflakes, hanging garlic bulbs, and banana leaves for kamayan), this bold, playful choice of casting transitions the American sit-com feel of the play into a teleserye aesthetic.
The comedy is a strength—yet also a mask—for the production. Pilapil adeptly captures the hilarious (yet painful) shade thrown by Filipinos, and the neuroticism engendered between family members. Babette’s line “Make sure you’re taking your riboflavin because that’s a geriatric pregnancy!” had me cackling at the vicious care and unintentional humor of Filipino maternal figures. However, during more difficult moments—a fight at the dinner table, an explanation of a Filipino value—the characters absorb the difficulties and deflect them with jokes or attempts to get back to normal. Their efforts are likewise accepted by the other characters in lieu of productive pushback. For instance, in a tender conversation with Tanner about her shame around having a child out of wedlock and what it means to be Filipino, Connie introduces the concept of utang na loob, sometimes translated as “debt of your inner-self.” To be Filipino, she believes, is to have utang, and in a move to help Tanner reconcile with his identity, Connie tells him, “The reason you don’t feel Filipino is because you don’t owe me anything.”
The utterance comes across as an act of grace on Connie’s part, intended to free her son from the toxic elements of Filipino culture. He responds with a teasing quip about her Tagalog. Still, the dialogue belies a great sorrow reflective of the Filipino American experience. Distanced from native lands and filtered through centuries of Spanish colonialism and half a century of American “benevolent assimilation,” Filipinos coming to or born in America can have a twisted connection to utang na loob. To Connie, this value more readily connotes a Catholicized or Westernized notion of debt, rather than a value that springs from older roots — from a deep source of care towards others and a link to fellow humans in an eternity of good will. Even as the audience cracks up around me, I crave more for and from Connie — that she delve deeper into what it means “to feel Filipino” — she and the rest of the de Dios family.
God Will Do the Rest invites us into the exuberance and commotion that the Filipino American experience can be: openness, vulnerability, and sass in confronting dueling cultures. It’s an invitation that I hope allows us all to gain the courage to dig deeper and do the rest.
The Los Angeles Theatre Center, 514 S. Spring St., downtown LA. Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 4 pm; thru Sept. 29. running time: 1 hour and 45 minutes www.latinotheaterco.org
Disclosure: As a playwright, Amanda L. Andrei has worked with Fran de Leon and Ellen D. Williams as actor/director and actor, respectively, in staged readings with the University of Southern California, The Vagrancy, and Boston Court Pasadena. She has also worked with Artists at Play in a private staged reading.
This review was of a preview performance.
