Review: 'Septic Tank 4' is theatrical gold
Eugene Domingo and a pitch-perfect ensemble skewer the local theater industry in a metatheatrical masterpiece that is well worth repeat viewings.
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Eugene Domingo and a pitch-perfect ensemble skewer the local theater industry in a metatheatrical masterpiece that is well worth repeat viewings.
Prepare for thigh-slapping, rib-shattering riotous laughter at the "cheter." Septic Tank 4 is THE theater show to see, period.
I saw it twice, and it’s still a remarkable masterclass. The wit is razor-sharp, the narrative construction is impeccable, and the dramaturgy is formally disciplined enough to make a theater academic weep tears of joy.
This is the holy grail of comedy—the kind that refuses to resort to cheap, gratuitous gags for a pity laugh. Every single narrative beat earns its place, with setups and payoffs executed with sniper-like precision.
Comedy is notoriously the hardest thing to write, but Chris Martinez pulls it off with precise craftsmanship, matched beat-for-beat by Maribel Legarda’s directorial wizardry. The production’s narrative cohesion is airtight; its internal logic never wavers for a second.
And look, yes, DAILY TRIBUNE is a media partner. But my review is, and has always been, entirely independent of any corporate handshakes. When I tell you to see this show, I am saying it from the depths of my soul.
The Septic Tank satirical franchise—where actors joyfully turn themselves into weaponized, outsized self-caricatures—is a gift to local entertainment.
It all started back in 2011 by hilariously skewering indie poverty porn, which was also the exact moment Eugene Domingo revealed the kind of cosmic comic virtuosity uniquely suited for portraying gloriously self-mythologizing artists.
Now, that same virtuosity is on full display live at PETA—completely stripped of safety nets like edits, cuts, or second takes—and somehow, Uge is even better.
This time around, she positions herself as nothing less than a towering theatrical monument in this trendy era of the Philippine "golden age of theater." Desperate to piggyback on the booming local stage industry, she summons her creative inner circle to a dinner feast of kare-kare, red wine, Rivotril, and suspiciously strategic gifts. It’s part celebration, part blatant bribe, all to help her mount a stage adaptation of Aurelio Tolentino’s 1903 anti-imperialist play, Kahapon, Ngayon at Bukas.
What transpires is a deliciously meta comedy that gleefully takes a scalpel to today's theater scene. It pokes affectionate fun at theater makers and their hip new audiences alike, ruthlessly dissecting everyone's intentions and contradictions.
The supporting ensemble orbiting Planet Uge is pitch-perfect: Andoy Ranay's uninhibited exhibitionist self-caricature (I'm still laughing while writing this); JC Santos, Marlon Rivera, Meann Espinosa, Stella Cañete-Mendoza, Melvin Lee, and Joshua Lim So, alongside the loyal "Ugeng-gengs," all eventually become collateral damage to Uge’s grandiose, absurd delusions.
The dinner scene is a particular masterclass in comedy as they passionately debate the state of the industry and their collective obsession with the stage.
Uge’s existence is an automatic laugh cue. She enters without uttering a single line, yet her aura alone makes you bust a gut. When she finally emerges through the door in a glittering, tasseled, oversized Elizabethan ruff—introducing herself to her “co-horts” as a living, breathing theatrical institution, my hysterical laughter refuses to die down.
She maintains this magnificent self-coronation throughout the entire runtime, turning herself into a stage monarch and the undisputed patron saint of theater, proclaiming with absolute, unhinged conviction: "My theater is brave. My theater is fearless. My theater has teeth. My theater fights."
Of course, knowing the Uge of the Septic Tank universe, you already know the actual play is going to be a total, unmitigated sh*tshow. And that is the brilliance of this production: it masterfully builds anticipation for the fun absurdity right after the 15-minute intermission, where commerce and egos hilariously masquerade as "art and advocacy."
While the humor during the rehearsal sequences loses a tiny bit of steam, the overall wit continues to overflow with physical, musical, and verbal comedy. It quickly regains its manic momentum, barreling toward an ending that is brilliantly self-reflexive.
My repeat viewing landed me in the second row, which gave me a front-row seat to the genius of Gino Gonzales’ costumes. We’re talking about Uge’s tasseled ensembles engineered specifically for maximum hilarity, the elegant monochromatic dinner looks, and the matching gear of the Ugeng-gengs.
Every single inch of this production is visually scrumptious. Ranay’s Elizabethan-inspired pleated mini skirt fans out with every single pirouette, gleefully flashing his briefs as a recurring visual gag.
Easily the best theater experience I’ve had so far this year, Septic Tank 4 is intelligently written, dramaturgically bulletproof, and powered by a cast operating at the peak of their powers.
Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a third watch. Or even a fourth.
