‘Once on This Island’ and why Ti Moune’s tragic story needs to be told
‘Once on This Island’ and why Ti Moune’s tragic story needs to be told
After the successful restaging of Jonathan Larson’s Rent earlier this year, 9 Works Theatrical goes tropical—albeit during the Philippines’ rainiest month of September—as they embark on another musical set in the Antilles islands of the Caribbean. Based on Rosa Guy’s 1985 novel My Love, My Love; or, The Peasant Girl, Once on This Island tells the story of a peasant girl Ti Moune and her journey to be with Daniel, the grand homme she saved from a car crash. Its forlorn story is perfectly masqueraded by the highly rhythmic and harmonic Calypsonian music and lyrics of Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens, respectively, giving a completely tumultuous experience from the life of Ti Moune, both the good and the bad.
Even before the play began, the immersive experience started as you enter the house and witness the stage for the first time. The circular wooden dock engulfed by the stormy blue light and thunderous sounds—which for some reason reminded me of Jordan Peele’s Nope—hints at a turbulent story for our protagonist even before she was introduced.
The story can be considered a modern retelling of Hans Christian Anderson’s The Little Mermaid, with Ti Moune instantly falling in love with a rich mulatto who initially has no recollection of his savior. It also involves a sacrifice greater than exchanging the heroine’s voice for human legs as Ti Moune sacrificed her life just to save a man she coincidentally witnessed in a car crash. And while we all remember the happy ending of Ariel and Eric, one cannot be said for Ti Moune and Daniel. With this, Once on This Island can also be a contemporary rendition of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet, but instead of dying together, it’s only Juliet who dies (and becomes a tree apparently) while Romeo gets a “happily ever after” ending.
The opening sequence of any musical is considered to be one of its most crucial, if not the most crucial part as it sets the tone and mood for the other musical numbers to follow, and 9 Works Theatrical’s restaging of Once on This Island captured the tropical spark that lightens up the initially dark and gloomy atmosphere (“We Dance”), as we are introduced to the characters, the conflict of social class and race, and the island named “Jewel of the Antilles” without giving too much so that it can be explored throughout its 90 minute runtime. It also gave us a glimpse of who to look out for in the costume, acting, and vocals department and the Gods of earth, water, love, and death (Radka as Asaka; Garrett Bolden as Agwé; Jasmine Fitzgerald as Erzulie; and Lorenz Martinez as Papa Ge, respectively) immediately catches your eyes with their intricate otherworldly costumes that separate them from the earthy peasant and rich mulattos that reside in the island. The traditional Caribbean dance that put emphasis on waist and hips can also be seen as the cast performs that literal definition of its opening title, “We Dance.”
After the lively opening comes the introduction of the main cast, with little Ti Moune (Bianca Estacio) hanging on the top of a tall tree and her adoptive parents, Mama Euralie (Lani Ligot) and Tonton Julian (Noel Rayos) persuading her to go down (“One Small Girl”). This musical number revealed an attempt of a Caribbean accent by both Ligot and Rayos—for which I do not have a baseline on, but it is certainly noticeable—and Estacio’s cautious delivery of lyrics fitting for her character. It is quite fascinating that the child actresses (both Estacio and little Ti Moune’s alternate Reese Iso) have an active role as most plays I’ve watched in the past rarely have speaking lines and are used as props. While Estacio had some audio hiccups that made her inaudible at times, her delivery shone in the final number (“Why We Tell the Story”) as she fluently retold Ti Moune’s story in her own words.
In contrast, the adult Ti Moune (Angela Ken) is as friendly, warm, and resilient as she can be. Ken’s portrayal of Ti Moune showcased a mixture of optimism and naïveté to her detriment as she dreams of big yet impossible things in the sequences that involved her (“Waiting for Life;” “And the Gods Heard Her Prayer;” and “Rain”). This is further exacerbated as she gets involved with the grand homme Daniel (Sam Concepcion), persuading both the villagers and the audience with Ken’s affable personality to help a rich man despite a clear difference in social mobility. Ken’s Ti Moune is mostly infuriating, especially when she argues with her parents to be with Daniel on the other side of the island (“Ti Moune”), yet you can’t help but root for her character due to the immense and sometimes blinding depiction of selflessness and love for others, even if this isn’t reciprocated.
This selflessness is highlighted in the play’s most memorable—in my personal opinion—musical sequence (“Forever Yours”) thanks to Ken and Martinez’s combined masterful performances. Ken’s portrayal of love and desperation amidst the arrival of the death demon is visibly seen and her strong plea to offer her very own life in exchange for the safety of a complete stranger sends a message of undeveloped yet also universal sense of love that awes and annoys me at the same time—and this feeling is a testament that Ken’s performance completely resonates with the audience as it makes them feel something. Additionally, Martinez’s role as the demon of death dominates the stage as he proclaims Daniel’s life as his. His menacing demeanor, along with the strong instrumental and backing vocals, his eerie costume design, and the bloody red lighting that blanketed the stage worked perfectly to make him a formidable villain. His transaction with Ti Moune felt like a deal with the devil, with consequences that would haunt her for the rest of her life. The reprise scene during the play’s latter half also exudes the same hopelessness as Papa Ge haunts Ti Moune back with their deal and a loud gasp from the audience can be heard as Ken’s character almost did the unthinkable and masterfully plays her emotions in between anger, confusion and then regret.
Another musical sequence that deserves to be highlighted is the one that answered the question of how and why the island was segregated by skin color and social class, “The Sad Tale of the Beauxhommes.” PJ Rebullida’s portrayal of Daniel’s French aristocrat great-great-grandfather Armand made this sequence a whimsical history lesson about the French Antilles island. His delivery of the line “black blood will keep them forever on the island, while their hearts yearn forever for France,” is incredibly powerful and symbolic of the racial tensions and prejudice that continued all the way through Daniel’s generation. It’s no wonder why the island remains segregated even after Armand was expelled as the light-skinned half-French aristocrats wanted to continue the status quo by separating themselves from the dark-skinned natives of the island. The social divide continues even when the Beauxhommes are not purely French simply because of their skin color and economic standing. This is the same issue that plagues both Ti Moune and Daniel in the story, most especially during its climax.
Concepcion barely sang in the first half of the one-act play, but his performance of “Some Girls” really makes you immediately fall in love with his character. The way he delivered his lines convinces you that he is willing to risk it all just to be with the woman he loves, which is something that is also like his character in another musical (Popoy in One More Chance: The Musical). Despite having no lines yet, the introduction of Andrea (Krystal Kane) remains the most powerful character introduction of this play. Her sophistication and elegance are enough to show that she’s an early 1900s old-money aristocrat who should not be underestimated. The simultaneous portrayal of Daniel singing about how simple Ti Moune is in contrast to Andrea getting ready for the ball was handled exquisitely so that the tension is palpable—you just know something is going to happen in the next sequence. The line “some girls you marry, some you love” while looking at Andrea and Ti Moune, respectively, is just a perfect ending to a well-executed musical number.
The rich people's drama ensues at the ball for which aristocratic couples are already dancing (“The Ball”). The swift transformation of the supporting cast from rugged peasant clothes to clean cocktail attire showcased the commendable effort of both the artistic and production team. They are the unseen performers that keep the show seamless, and they need to be acknowledged for the quick costume changes. Ken’s singing and dancing capabilities were also highlighted during the play’s later sequences. Her fluid and playful dance routine completely disrupts the traditional dance the rich snobs are doing, but you can’t help but also go along with her unfamiliar way of dancing as she is not embarrassed to be herself even when her mortal enemy is trying to humiliate her in front of a crowd. This happiness quickly subsides in the following scenes as Daniel leaves her behind, showing Ken’s dynamic way of portraying a sea of emotions—from being proud and jolly to despair and repentant. The feelings of regret, desperation, and anxiety emanated from her eyes and voice; nothing but the single white light focusing on her figure accompanies her as she anguishes about what could’ve been a happy ending. While Ti Moune’s ending is as tragic as it may seem, the story continues to highlight the importance of love reigning over hatred and death and looking beyond the “now.” Its closing sequence (“Why We Tell the Story”) emphasizes this with Estacio's longest yet also most discernible line delivery as she retells the story and its importance in her own words.
More than anything, I am glad that 9 Works Theatrical continues to restage Broadway and West End musicals in the Philippines. Theater has always been reserved for those who can afford tickets, accommodation, and time to go to places like New York or London. Restaging known Broadway and West End plays makes theater more accessible to the Philippine masses, while also experiencing a more curated performance from the Filipino cast and crew. And like Ti Moune, I hope this play becomes a tree that breaks prejudices and unites all social classes into one.
