Theater Review: Anino sa Likod ng Buwan (2025) – A Powerful Return to the Stage

Theater Review: Anino sa Likod ng Buwan (2025) – A Powerful Return to the Stage | Daily Tribune

A decade after its film adaptation, Jun Robles Lana’s Anino sa Likod ng Buwan remains urgent and razor-sharp. The passage of time — and our wider exposure to global content — has not diminished the power and intelligence of the script, which Lana wrote at just 20 years old.

Its timeless appeal lies in Lana’s ability to weave tension and psychological warfare into a taut, near-perfect rhythm. With a concise and Pinteresque script, he sets war as the backdrop for an exploration of human frailties, amplified by external atrocities. It feels like a work born from a burst of genius — uninhibited, inspired and never trying too hard.

Set in 1993 Marag Valley, a real-life no man’s land and battleground between the New People’s Army and the Philippine military in the ‘90s, the play introduces three fictional characters: husband and wife Emma and Nardo (Elora Españo and Ross Pesigan) and their unconventional friendship with a soldier, Joel (Martin del Rosario).

Confined to a single setting — a dilapidated nipa hut in the middle of the forest — Lana immediately establishes a chamber drama. He opens the story with symbols that foreshadow its twists: A buck-naked Emma bathing in the night’s scorching heat; a friendly poker game where bluffing, strategy and power dynamics unfold; an insecure comparison of manhood between Nardo and Joel. And then, the looming lunar eclipse, with shadow creeping over Marag Valley, much like the secrets buried beneath the surface.

It’s a sweltering evening, and Emma keeps saying so, fanning herself. But is it just the humid weather? Or is it Joel’s presence — a hot soldier laughing with her homely husband? A soldier with a magnanimous heart, who raids the military pantry just to sneak food to his poor, hungry friends caught in war?

The delicious banter is more than just mindless chatter — it is militaristic in its linguistic strategy, designed to tease out drama, hint at power shifts and inject sociopolitical commentary. Yet, the mix of old-fashioned and contemporary Tagalog — like using maaari ba? in a 1993 setting — feels slightly anachronistic. Still, the language remains crystal clear, accessible and absorbing.

Tuxqs Rutaquio’s direction and set design lean on the actors, as this is, more than anything, a character study. The stage allows for easy movement and blocking, with sparse props: A door, a small table, a bed, a kitchen and a cabinet. One large, gnarly tree stands to the side, further casting shadows on the unraveling taking place inside the hut. The actors also ponder loudly as they look up at an invisible moon that will soon become a blood moon.

The main cast — Españo, del Rosario and Pesigan — are competent. Without microphones, they had to maximize their voices in the PETA Theater Center. Españo, no stranger to erotic roles, is a perfect fit for the sultry Emma, carrying the sensuality the character requires and delivering a booming, crystal-clear voice effortlessly.

Pesigan’s excessively smiley, friendly face sometimes veers into goofy comedy, but he captures Nardo’s seemingly innocent, commoner-husband persona. Both he and Españo stumbled over their lines a few times during the matinee I attended on 2 March, occasionally disrupting the momentum.

The one-hour, 40-minute straight play — packed with verbal jousting and no intermission — demands more than memorization; it requires full embodiment of character for a convincing portrayal. And in that, del Rosario stands out. He delivers his lines flawlessly, with no hitches or panicked fumbling. He imbues his lusty Joel with the perfect mix of ambiguity, playfulness, menace, and smoldering attractiveness his character demands.

The play is rated 18+, featuring graphic erotica live on stage. Sex is pivotal to the characters’ manipulations and vulnerabilities, and their quest for redemption. While at times it edges toward the pornographic, the urgency of their actions is necessary as the story hurtles toward its boiling point.

The choreography of the lengthy sex scenes is clearly designed to titillate, but it is essential in exploring Emma’s interiority and weakness. Lust, in all its manifestations, is not just about desire — it is a coping mechanism, a tool for power play, alpha strikes, and survival in a war that warps the mind.

However, the choreography of the action and gunfight toward the end felt disarrayed. It became unclear who was hit and who was dying, as the staging relied on synchronized gunshot sound effects, without blood effects or lighting cues on the armalite or pistol.

If the 2015 film adaptation was grainy and monochromatic, the 2025 IdeaFirst LIVE stage version is vibrant, with deep hues of purple, fuchsia and blue — a palette that feels more romantic than deceptive and seductive.

Still, even for those familiar with the story, it’s still a satisfying experience. Rutaquio’s direction pays homage to the brilliance of the script while maintaining edge-of-seat excitement. He deftly depicts both external and internal wars, underscoring subconscious struggles and the gray areas of morality and ideology. He brings Lana’s story to life, filling the stage with naked flesh, leaked secrets, and desperation. It’s a must-see.

Anino sa Likod ng Buwan runs until 23 March at the PETA Theater Center.