Orosman at Zafira: A reawakening

In an age where subtitled koreanovelas, musical series centered on casts who haphazardly burst into a song, and 20-minute series' that delve on how modern relationships pretty much resemble switching from one outfit to another reign supreme. There simply is no place for the intellectual and creative orgasm raised by theatrical   plays which in every inch scream of gusto.

Bluntly put, it takes a whole level of appreciation and intelligence, not to mention will power, to come out and actually sit down for roughly two-hours of theater play viewing, when you have a pirated vcd at home sitting on your DVD player waiting for a single press to start running. Right everyone?

Much less if the play was written by the guy who bored all of us to death during our second year in high school on that Florante at Laura compulsory subject.

Myself nine years ago would have said WHY? *with matching eyeroll*
Weeks ago upon invitation to watch OZ, I said, why not?

I'm not sure if it's the natural works of aging, but I'd like to think that we'd all reach a point wherein we want to try out on things we solemnly hated in the past. A second look. Or a rerun.

And that my friends is what i'm guessing to be the reason behind me raving about Orosman at Zafira in this entry.

Similar to my disgust in the tasteless vegetarian food when I was twelve, and the epiphany that I now embracingly enjoy each time I grab health food every 15th of the month, a second taste and in this case, a second look at the theater tapped my inner artsy. The one deeply entrenched in all of us, yet only a few wish to unveil for fear of being judged or whatever.

Why not try watching a play?

Other than seeing the actors play live. There turns out to be so much more in plays which other mediums fail to reach on. Raw, visible and affective intensity of emotions.

The passion that pulls the pin in the performers and hurls them towards performing their very best as if it were their last. That is what I can most proudly say to be the core element of Orosman at Zafira.

A set of actors, producers, muscians, lightsmen and staff who were not only passionate about their 'jobs' but feels exactly the same towards the genius in Francisco Baltazar and his masterpiece.

Thank you for reminding me how history clashed with love. And how powerful it were, no matter which form it takes. Love of country, love of subjects,  familial or romantic.

Which made me think, how many wars have actually been waged in the past that has really little to do about democracy, equality or sovereignty; but about winning the love of that special person whom everyone else's apparently willing to fight for?

Ah, love.

Or in Orosman at Zafira's term:

Kasumpa-sumpang pagibig.