Life is a messy business, and the more you try to control it, the messier it gets. It's like trying to grab a fistful of Jell-O; the harder you squeeze, the more goop squeezes through your fingers. In the Philippines near the beginning of the end of the Marcos reign, the social Jell-O came loaded with rhinestones, and the squeeze was on. Some people wanted a share of the shiny stuff, and others saw that it was faux gems being pawned off. And there were those who had access to real national treasures, and there the grip was solid for more than 20 years.
Dogeaters, adapted by Jessica Hagedorn from her epic novel, is a suitably messy affair. With 36 characters populating almost as many scenes, the play is a crosscut collection of lives during the go-go days as Ferdinand Marcos is punishing opposition and Imelda Marcos felt she was helping the people by bringing some glamor into their lives. From the seemingly apolitical drag queens lip-syncing in a disco dive to the revolutionaries hidden in the hills around Manila, many lives find various ways to intersect during an international film festival that Imelda Marcos expects will soon eclipse Cannes.
Oh, the humanity, but first, oh, the celebrities. George Hamilton, Pia Zadora, Brooke Shields, and Linda Blair have been spotted at what is commonly known as "Imelda's film festival." Ubiquitous TV personalities Nestor and Barbara (the always-smiling Melvign Badiola and Esperanza Catubig) provide a running commentary on the action. "So many stories! A vaudeville of doomed love, shameless desire, dreams, and longing," says Nestor at the start of the play.
The duo can help provide the audiences with some sense of locale, and the titles of each scene projected on the Magic Theatre's back wall can also add needed signposts (although they can be made cryptic by the space's pillars, which obscure letters and words from certain vantages). That the actors appear as numerous characters further diminishes identifying characteristics and an overall clarity. It's just too much work to follow along in any traditional sense, if possible at all, and it's probably best to just grab what information you can on the fly.
Director Loretta Greco's production is impressive in its sprawling ambition, and individual scenes can land both emotional and comic punches. The boxing analogy may be apt, for while the front rows of the three audience sections are set up with cabaret tables, it can feel more like we're spectators at a boxing match. Unfortunately, the configuration creates serious problems with sightlines for anyone who is only two or three rows back from the cabaret-type tables and chairs, and there are craning necks straining to see what's taking place at points closer to the floor. And somehow Greco manages to place actors behind those aforementioned pillars even when they are speaking.
Among the characters and storylines are an inconveniently political young woman just crowned Miss Philippines (Christine Jamlig), who is also the daughter of a reformist senator (Ogie Zuleta), who, much like Benigno Aquino, is assassinated. The sole witness is a deejay/rent boy (Rafael Jordan) who hangs out at a disco operated by a glitzy drag queen (Jamar Tagatac), and where the hustler hooks up with German director Rainer Fassbinder (Lawrence Radecker), in Manila for Imelda's film festival. And of course, there is Imelda Marcos (Beverly Sotelo), whose glamor-obsessed musings can't accommodate any mundane realities. An ex-pat (Rinabeth Apostol) returning after 14 years for her grandmother's funeral provides a framing device and bemusement at the rush to mimic Western opulence in her much-changed homeland.
This is but a sliver from the list of characters, whom Hagedorn has speaking in English (mainly), Spanish, and Tagalog, at times even within just one sentence. That's one more challenge in this difficult and admirable undertaking. In the end, it's best to just let the play wash over you. The less you worry about the small stuff, the more the big picture will emerge.
Dogeaters will run at the Magic Theatre through Feb. 28. Tickets are $35-$75. Call (415) 441-8822 or go to magictheatre.org.