Ang Kiri: (Attempt at) A Sarsuela Review

I admit, I've never watched a sarsuela before. A "sarsuela" was just a concept in my Social Studies and Literature classes, with no relevance to my everyday life. And with so much Disneyfication and Walmarting going on, it’s hard to keep in touch with the traditions. Sadly, popular media in the Philippines does absolutely nothing to alleviate the fact.

February was UP’s Buwan ng Sarsuela, a month-long celebration of the tradition that the Spanish incorporated into our culture. “Ang Kiri” was written by Servando de los Angeles in 1926, and the music was written by Leon Ignacio. Due to a requirement in Pan Pil 12, I watched Ang Kiri-- and was extremely glad that I did.

The direction was good, the back-up dancers made a lot of mistakes, the songs had crazy notes in them, the singers were definitely bringing it, and the Filipino was sometimes too deep for me to understand. There were definitely moments when I wished I brought a dictionary along. There was also a brilliant blend of traditional and contemporary elements in both the humor and script.

The "Kiri," or "Flirt," was Sesang, a woman who seemed like the type who could get whoever she wanted. Beautiful, charming, vivacious, captivating and seductive when she wanted to be.

Her loyal suitor was Pepe, a writer who had no riches to offer to the ambitious Sesang. She was, however, in the rhetorical sense, owned by Don Ramon, who paid for her every whim and fancy. Don Ramon was unaware that there were also two other men who financed her lifestyle, which consisted of parties, parties and more parties. Sesang's right-hand man (?) was Amboy, a quirky helper who scheduled the three men's visits to make sure they didn't run into each other.

Surrounded by so many people, Sesang felt alone.

They called her a glorified prostitute, but there wasn't any indication that that was what she set out to be. She was probably looking for love, but when she instead found money, she took what she was given. That also spawned her negative view of men in general.

The trouble started when she laid eyes on young Jacinto, a quintessential probinsyano and the boyfriend of Sesang's modista, Pilar. One thing led to another, and before long Jacinto moved in with Sesang. I think his reason was at first economic-- Sesang had the money he didn't, and all she was asking for was love. (Sesang and Jacinto became the same sort of people, in a sense.)

And here Sesang really did fall for Jacinto, much to the chagrin of Pilar, Don Ramon, and Jacinto's mother. Pilar gave Sesang a dramatic confrontation, which endeared her to the audience. Both she and Sesang were from the province, but Pilar emphasized that people have a choice for all their actions. Don Ramon kicked both Jacinto and Sesang out of the house. When Jacinto's mother got wind of the unbecoming liaison her son was keeping, she paid them a visit. Sesang tried to impress her, but her reputation was something that the old lady could not overlook. She ordered Jacinto to go back to their province lest she disowns him, and he obeyed-- and later married Pilar.

Amboy, the servant, decided all this was too much drama for him/her and left, saying that even if he wasn’t rich and was just a servant, his dignity was intact and that was all that mattered.

This left Sesang as alone as ever (and made for the second most beautiful scene in the play: Sesang in white with the spotlights on her, everything else in the background dim, everyone else wearing black. It was here that Jacinto and Pilar tied the knot while Sesang was crying her heart out, and it was just so striking.)

Pepe came to Sesang’s aid, but instead of winning her over, she decided to run after Jacinto, not knowing that he was already married. Meanwhile, Don Ramon tried to find other women he could pay for love, but decided that none of them would do. He decided to run after Sesang.

The culmination of the drama was in Pilar and Jacinto’s hometown, where Sesang rejected Don Ramon and Pepe, and Jacinto rejected her. He actually seemed guilty and wanted to comfort her but Pilar pulled him away.

Again, Sesang was alone in the middle, as she realized that the reason she was alone was because she was trying too hard not to be. A caption for the scene ran through my head, courtesy of Emilio Jacinto: “Ating hanapin ang liwanag, tayo’y huwag mabighani sa ningning.” The sparkle of her lifestyle blinded her and made her forget who she was. She realized that she needed to see the light, to find herself, to change... and she could only do it if she was alone. (And thus the most dramatic scene, a silent Sesang in all her glory, standing in front of the closed curtains, with the black-and-white words “Ang Kiri” in the background.)

This sarsuela definitely brings forth a healthy dose of catharsis. As Aristotle said in “The Poetics,” a good drama must always give catharsis to the audience. It is the feeling of pity for the character fated for ruin (not because she/he was evil but because there is an innate flaw in her/his personality) and at the same time the fear that her/his flaw is also yours. Sesang’s flaw is that she was afraid to be alone. She was willing to forget herself for love. She was also willing to hurt other people to get it.

In the end, “Ang Kiri” makes us reexamine ourselves. Like Sesang, will we also be blinded by the sparkle and forget to look for the light? What will our fear of being alone make us do? How much are we willing to give, just to have somebody love us? How far are we willing to go for affection? Will our own search for love be our ultimate ruin? And when all is said and done, will we be able to rise from the ashes?