Spoilers ahead. 

Every brilliant thing about Bawat Bonggang Bagay must be largely credited to Jon Santos, whose three-decade career onstage and onscreen, replete with joys and pains, has transformed him into becoming one of the queer luminaries of the local entertainment industry, the master impersonator of and to many. (See this glowing profile by Apa Agbayani).

Reprising his role in Bawat Bonggang Bagay, the local adaptation of Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe’s Every Brilliant Thing, after its sold-out run at the Sandbox Festival last July, Santos proves yet again that his breadth and arsenal as an actor and comedian never really went anywhere.

The one-act play, translated into crisp, cadenced Filipino by Guelan Varela-Luarca, untangles the story of a kid who grows up witnessing his mother’s chronic depression and suicide attempts, and so, in an effort to provide her more reasons to live, he keeps a list of often-mundane yet beautiful, happy things worth living for – a list that he revisits, in one way or another, even as an adult as he comes to terms with his own dark days.

Before the staging opens, pieces of paper containing these reminders of brilliant things are handed to audience members, who must then recite what’s written on it once Santos as the nameless narrator (in essence, the kid) speaks the corresponding number. Placed on both sides of the space are two projector screens simultaneously displaying photos of the items mentioned.

Given the nature of the material, it’s particularly impressive how director Jenny Jamora intimates the space via a theater-in-the-round setup, with crates (littered with books, goodies, and school supplies) doubling as car, waiting shed, or bed. At times, a jacket is repurposed as a dog cleverly named Sherlock Bones, or a pen as a syringe. The lighting design by Miggy Panganiban also renders the performance more private and personal.

And by casting audience members to play as the lead’s father, lover, teacher (like the legendary publisher Karina Bolasco), and even the central character himself, the staging makes for not only an interactive but also an incredibly distinct experience, precisely because it’s dependent on how Santos, in every iteration of the show, must create rapport with the audience of varying demographics and make the entire thing work. As expected, the actor takes on this Herculean task with such rigor and confidence. Santos wields the pendulum to oscillate between lightness and earnestness, always finding the most opportune time to turn a scene into comedy gold, all while keeping the emotional gravitas of the material in perspective. 

In one moment, Santos enlists a guy from the audience to portray his character’s love interest, Sam, and after interacting and bantering with him, with pulsating chemistry at that, Santos turns his attention to the nuns sitting near the audience member and asks them if they’re also contemplating problems about romance and dating, which is just hilarious because it’s also silly and borderline offensive. The way Santos physicalizes the humor, adding little details and antics here and there, also affords these punchlines the window to land with more impact.

This one-character show, originally a short story stretched into a monologue, has been adapted into different languages, including Spanish, Mandarin, Arabic, and Hebrew. Yet what separates Varela-Luarca’s script from the others is how he contours the material into a uniquely Filipino sensibility, drawing from a library of local references: from UP Baguio, to halo-halo, to Lily’s peanut butter, to the music of Francis Magalona, down to Cherie Gil’s iconic line in Bituing Walang Ningning, among others.

Queering the work, meanwhile, offers another frame with which to view and make sense of the staging, putting forward how LGBTQIA+ populations continue to battle mental health issues, exacerbated by their marginality. And despite the relentless hilarity it invokes, the writing doesn’t gloss over the message it hopes to impart, well aware that comedy as a coping mechanism can only do so much. In fact, there is a portion in the show where Santos runs through important guidelines about responsible suicide reporting that, sadly, still gets overlooked in many cases.

Just like its artistic approach, the play reminds us that the way we respond to mental health and the weight we all carry in our every waking day must always be a collective, communal effort. And yes, there may be days that we can’t save them all, but the most important thing is that we keep trying. Isn’t that what life is all about?

Irresistibly funny and poignant, Bawat Bonggang Bagay, with Santos at the helm, barrels us through an orbit of emotions, as if we’re rewriting and recreating the play and, by extension, our lives over and over again, hoping that in the process we understand others and ourselves better, hoping that we continue to find something to add to the list, no matter how silly, no matter how ordinary, no matter how un-brilliant it is. – Rappler.com

Bawat Bonggang Bagay runs until September 24, 2023.