The last time Ed Lacson Jr. directed for 9 Works Theatrical, it resulted in one of the company’s most significant productions: “Himala.” At a time when 9 Works was best known for crowd-pleasing Broadway fare, staging an original Filipino musical was a bold artistic statement.
Now Lacson returns — albeit briefly, while on vacation — and once again finds himself at the center of a fascinating turning point for the company.
As 9 Works’ first straight play, “Yemaya” is already a milestone. But what’s even more striking is how radically it departs from what audiences usually expect from the company. This production brings Eljay Castro Deldoc’s Tagalog translation of Quiara Alegría Hudes’ Pulitzer Prize-winning “Yemaya’s Belly” to life — a captivating story rich with Latino culture, magical realism, migration, grief, and longing.
While the choice of material feels entirely in line with Lacson’s tastes, it represents a massive gamble for 9 Works. Having seen the production, I hope audiences will reward that bravery because “Yemaya” is exactly the kind of artistic risk local theater needs more of.
At its center is Jesus, a young teen from an impoverished rural town in a Latin American country that’s never explicitly named, but evocative of Cuba under the Castro dictatorship. Innocent and wide-eyed, Jesus experiences a brief moment of wonder in the city: a posh hotel, an iced-cold bottle of Coca-Cola, and the intoxicating idea of possibility. It is enough to shape his dreams of wealth, travel, and America itself.
But this fragile optimism collapses when tragedy strikes back home. A devastating fire destroys his town and kills his parents, leaving him orphaned. Clinging to what little remains, he renames himself Mulo and begins to imagine a future beyond his loss.
That future takes shape when he meets Maya, a slightly older teenager who speaks of crossing the sea to America. Their voyage becomes the play’s most charged section, culminating in a storm at sea rendered with touches of magical realism, where reality and dreams begin to blur.
For this writer, “Yemaya” ultimately reads as a bleak but powerful interrogation of the immigrant American dream. Written in the shadow of real-world migration crises, the play inevitably evokes cases such as Elián González, the Cuban boy whose 1999 sea journey to the United States became a global political flashpoint. Whether intentional or not, the resonance is hard to ignore: the collision between childhood innocence and the harsh reality of borders, loss, and survival.
Where the production finds its greatest strength is in its visual and sensory world. Lacson transforms the stage into a sandbox-like landscape that shifts between beach, wasteland, and unfinished terrain. Props hang from above like fiesta piñatas, evoking a child’s memory of celebration and play while also suggesting fragility, illusion and dreams that are out of reach. The effect is both whimsical and melancholic, grounding the production in a distinctly magical realist sensibility.
Jethro Nibaten’s lighting and Teresa Barrozo’s soundscape deepen this atmosphere, allowing the production to shift seamlessly between intimate moments and sweeping theatrical imagery. The storm-at-sea sequence, in particular, is beautifully realized. Without relying on technological excess, Lacson crafts images that are genuinely transporting, giving the journey a storybook quality that occasionally borders on the hypnotic.
The ensemble brings texture and emotional weight to this world. Herbie Go stands out as Tico, a grieving coconut vendor whose quiet sorrow becomes one of the production’s most affecting human anchors. Bituin Escalante exudes the earthy mysticism the production celebrates, Anthony Falcon adds edge and unpredictability, and Sheenly Gener provides the pragmatism.
But the show ultimately becomes a major stage showcase for Tommy Alejandrino. Without strain or affectation, he effortlessly captures the contradictions of adolescence—confidence and vulnerability, stubbornness and innocence. Crucially, he never reduces Mulo to a mere symbol, grounding the character in a recognizable youthful humanity that makes his journey all the more heartbreaking to witness.
Alternate Benedix Ramos takes a somewhat more mature approach to the role, but the performance is no less affecting. His portrayal lends the character a greater sense of awareness, making the play’s devastating conclusion resonate in a different, yet equally powerful, way.
As Maya, both Ness Roque and Sheena Belarmino prove to be ideal scene partners, each bringing a distinct energy to the role while maintaining the character’s spirit of adventure and longing. In both pairings, the relationship at the center of the story feels genuine enough to anchor even the play’s more fantastical passages.
A second viewing also revealed subtle refinements in the storytelling, particularly in the way the production develops the growing attraction between Mulo and Maya. The romantic undercurrent now emerges with greater clarity and emotional coherence, enriching their bond without drawing undue attention to itself.
Not everything lands with equal impact. The first act is considerably stronger, patiently building the world and its emotional stakes. Once the narrative shifts to the boat, the pacing becomes less assured. The imagery remains evocative, but the storytelling begins to drift.
The ending, too, arrives abruptly, leaving the story deliberately open-ended — an artistic choice that may divide audiences, but one that reinforces the production’s refusal to offer easy resolutions and false hopes.
What truly lingers after the final curtain isn’t the unresolved ending, however, but the fact that 9 Works chose to take a chance on a play like “Yemaya” in the first place. It is imperfect, occasionally meandering, and undeniably bleak — but it is also ambitious, imaginative, and unlike almost anything else currently on our stages. Given the choice, I would much rather see a theater company take a risk this bold than see them conga back into the safe zone.
“Yemaya” runs until July 5, 2026 at The Proscenium Theater Black Box in Rockwell, Makati City.
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