"He Played His Part in San Francisco"
In the spring of 2013, the Public Theater produced a dynamic
Off-Broadway musical called Here Lies Love, set in the Philippines. It
dealt with that Pacific nation’s political situation during the days of
Fernando and Imelda Marcos, especially the latter. Cast with a nearly
all-Filipino company, it was the product of David Byrne, one-time frontman of
the Talking Heads, who’s neither Filipino or Filipino American.
In fact, until
now, we’re informed, no Filipino American has ever written an Off-Broadway
musical, so the May-Yi Theater Company’s Felix Starro, with book and
lyrics by Philippines-born and raised Jessica
Hagedorn, and music by Fabian Obispo, is, in this regard at least, a pioneer.
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| Alan Ariano. All photos: Richard Termine. |
Unlike Here Lies Love, however, whose infectious title
song still bangs around in my head, the much darker Felix Starro is far
from sparkling, although its subject matter is provocative enough to unsettle your innards. Based on a short story of the same name by Lysley Tenorio, it tells of the
title character (Alan
Ariano, appealing but a bit young for the part), an aging specialist in the practice
of psychic surgery. That, for the unitiated, is a fraudulent, pseudo-scientific form of faith-healing that enjoyed particular
popularity in the Philippines, beginning in the 1940s. It also took root in
Brazil, and has had celebrity advocates like Shirley MacLaine, who’s mentioned in
the script.
If you’ve never heard of psychic surgery, or seen video of it
in action, now is as good a time as any to check it out on YouTube, including a
demonstration by James Rand revealing
how it’s done. In brief, the practitioner, using only his bare hands, seems to reach
into the patient’s body, drawing blood, and withdrawing the sufferer's “negativities”
(Starro’s word)—in the form of bloody tissue—responsible for the patient’s
ailment. Most debunkers claim that the patients’ benefits are placebo effects.
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| Nacho Tambunting. |
Felix Starro is set in 1985, when Felix, a well-known but fading psychic
surgeon in Baguio City, believing he’s nearing his end, comes to San Francisco with
his 19-year-old grandson, Felix Starro, Jr. (Nacho Tambuntang, pleasant),
called Junior, whom he’s training to succeed him. The senior Felix’s reputation
is such—he was once a glittery TV star (as a flashy musical flashback reminds us)—that many
in the Bay Area’s Filipino community want to use his pricey services.
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| Francisca Munoz, Caitlin Cisco, Alan Ariano, Diane Phelan. |
Felix hopes to earn enough money to ensure his final days back
home, disregarding the danger he’s in there from a local who holds him responsible for a relative’s death. Felix admits his fraudulence to the skeptical
Junior but also believes he has a special gift, one Junior knows he himself
does not.
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| Nacho Tambunting, Francisca Munoz, Alan Ariano. |
Although he can afford better lodgings, Felix occupies a
shabby hotel room he’s stayed at before because of its nostalgic value. Visitors
include a young, gay man (Ryan James Ortega), suffering from AIDS, for which
Felix is unable to do anything; a wealthy matron, Mrs. Delgado (Francisca Muñoz); and Crystal (Caitlin Cisco), the pregnant, unwed hotel maid. We actually see Mrs.
Delgado undergo the gory procedure, after which she claims that (for the moment
at least) all her pains have vanished.
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| Francisca Munoz, Alan Ariano, Nacho Tambunting. |
Felix’s hoaxes gradually catch up with him and he also finds
himself in danger of losing his grandson, whose own need to survive requires
him to use means no less fraudulent than his grandfather’s. While Felix is
devoted to his homeland, Junior strives to leave its heat, poverty, and backwardness
behind and stay, illegally, in the USA. He’s spurred on in this goal by his
girlfriend back home, Charma (Diane Phelan), who keeps appearing in his
imagination. In a major lapse, we never learn what Charma’s own plans for
joining him are.
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| Francisca Munoz. |
As instructed, Junior seeks out a florist named Flora Ramirez
(the always excellent Ching Valdes-Aran), whose crooked sideline is getting aliens to pay a heavy
price for false American identities. The Junior-Flora plotline therefore
introduces the currently hot issue of illegal immigration, but in a shallow,
passing way, including filling the rear wall with a projected image (design by
Nick Graci) of hundreds of license-like photos.
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| Ching Valdes-Aran, Nacho Tambunting. |
The issue is more a momentary
distraction than a meaningful grappling with the problem. Last I heard, ICE was
not currently targeting San Francisco's Filipino immigrants. It's something of a stretch, but what happens in the play can only very loosely be extrapolated to the current situation at our borders. Even if you're a strong immigration advocate, you may not support Junior's strategy.
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| Francisca Munoz, Nacho Tambunting, and company. |
Felix Starro is neither an in-depth look at psychic
surgery nor of immigration policies (remember, the show is set in 1985). It also
sometimes can’t make up its mind if it’s a musical or a drama. Ma-Yi artistic director Ralph B. Peña has created several theatrically interesting moments but does little to alleviate the straightforward, ploddingly dramatic scenes, which crawl along at a snail’s pace.
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| Company of Felix Starro. |
Many of the acceptably listenable but largely generic 17 numbers
have a familiar Sondheim feeling, using the music to offer narrative
information. Others are in various conventional styles with ordinary lyrics that
won’t win any prizes for first-class rhyming, although a few songs have enough originality
to linger a bit. One that might be cited is “Medley of Maladies,” listing various
physical ailments, and Mrs. Delgado’s “Tango of Pain,” with its thumping Latin beat.
Paolo K. Tirol’s orchestrations for keyboards, guitar, and drums sound fine in the Clurman Theatre’s intimate confines under the musical direction of
Ian Miller, and the company’s singing and acting is satisfactory, if uneven. Don’t, however, expect a Lea Salonga to emerge from the ensemble.
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| Company of Felix Starro. |
Brandon Bieber’s choreography, mostly in the form of heightened
movement patterns than traditional dance, is well-executed by the small, seven-member
ensemble, all of whom—apart from Ariano and Tambunting-- play more than one
role. Costume designer Becky Bodurtha thus provides numerous costumes (and
wigs) for her busy troupers.
Felix Starro’s weakest contribution is Marsha
Ginsburg’s determinedly dull, sickly green set, intended to suggest the dreary
interior of a cheap room but also serving for multiple other locales, inside
and out. Even Oliver Wasson's imaginative lighting can do little to alleviate the glumness. An upstage cubicle (functioning as a closet, bathroom, and room entrance)
that the actors slide from side to side helps to slightly vary the space but,
if any set could be said to be a distracting eyesore when something more abstract
and imaginative was called for, this is it.
If a viable form of psychic surgery for theatre existed
where someone could slip their hand into a show’s entrails and pluck out its
negativities, Felix Starro would clearly quality as a patient.
Clurman Theatre/Theatre Row
410 W. 42nd St., NYC
Through September 21
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