For all the fairy tales I claimed to outgrow, I wasn’t ready for these woods.
When the stage filled with capiz glint and the voice of a returning legend, I realized how some stories just never let go.
This Filipino staging of Into the Woods, directed by Chari Arespacochaga, is a rich tapestry of characters and melodies, held together by Stephen Sondheim’s restless genius and the cast’s distinct local flavor.
To live off poetry and uncertainty is the show’s demand—and Manila rises to the challenge, thanks to Theatre Group Asia led by Tony Award-winning creative force Clint Ramos, with co-producers John and Joanna Echauz holding the line.
Gerard Salonga’s baton never wavers as it guides the orchestra through the notoriously brutal Sondheim signature.
It could have fallen apart under lesser tutelage, but here, the harmonies are tightly woven and consistently vibrant.
Read: REVIEW: Request sa Radyo exposes loneliness of OFWs abroad
INTO THE WOODS ENSEMBLE
Then there is Lea Salonga, returning after six years to the Philippine stage, materializing the Witch with an irascible ferocity and a tenderness that sneaks up on you.
She makes you believe that parental love is both a blessing and a curse.
When she reaches the lines “Children can only grow from something you love to something you lose” and “Children may not obey, but they will always listen,” the theater goes quiet, silenced by the weight of truth.
Lea’s pauses land heavier than some actors’ crescendos.
You can almost see her stopping to steady herself, as she once confessed she had to during rehearsals when potent emotions got to her.
Knowing she shares the stage with her own son and only child, Nic Chien as Jack, makes those truths heavier.
Nic plays the role with a pariah’s innocence—dim-witted, yes, but not without heart.
Read: Lea Salonga posts heartfelt birthday message for trans son Nic
A few feet deeper into the woods, we find the roots grow thickest in the baker’s household.
Mikkie Bradshaw-Volante is luminous as the Baker’s Wife. She moves from the malady of infertility into the bittersweet grindset of motherhood, capturing anguish in both forms.
Her scenes with real-life husband Nyoy Volante (the Baker) pulse with reciprocity and the kind of stage chemistry that can’t be faked.
Together, their scenes reveal a candid intimacy—delicate, razor-edged, thankless, and gutting in equal measure.
To counter this, comic reprieve arrives with the princes.
Josh Dela Cruz and Mark Bautista strut and preen through “Agony,” a number that has long been the stuff of geek boys and their fascinations.
Performed live, the duet lampoons and dissects machismo.
They are peacocks one moment, fools the next. Even as Act II turns darker, the pair of princes never lose their power to disarm.
Having secured their princesses as wives in Act I, they soon find themselves trapped in a fresh cycle of “Agony,” itching for purpose in new conquests and new damsels.
“I was raised to be Charming, not sincere” as an excuse to infidelity is something you can’t quite forget.
Speaking of things you can’t forget, there’s Eugene Domingo.
My biases may betray me, but she is the performance I hauled back as I drove home.
As Jack’s Mother, she hilariously evokes a Filipino matriarch in bad straits. She anchors the show in our soul in a way that is irrefutably Eugene.
The quorum of audiences who warned of “Filipino flair” in this adaptation were not wrong, Eugene makes sure it is the very marrow of the play.
The rest of the cast does not fade into foliage either.
Arielle Jacobs sparkles as Cinderella, with her Filipina-American heritage adding richness to a character caught between workhorse energy and fantasy, misanthropy and obedience.
Her stepfamily—Tex Ordoñez as the stepmother, and Sarah Facuri and Kakki Teodoro as Cinderella's stepsisters—devours every scene as a trifecta of Pinoy villainy.
Meanwhile, Teetin Villanueva’s Little Red is ever the spunky and wisecracking lass known to us from the storybooks.
Carla Guevara-Laforteza slips between roles like smoke—switching from Little Red's feisty Granny to the rumbling Giant, with an interesting mix of warmth and menace.
High above it all (literally from a tower), Joreen Bautista lends her voice to Rapunzel—the Witch's adopted daughter who goes haywire at her first taste of freedom.
Jamie Wilson doubles with gravitas as both Cinderella’s weary father who is sidelined by his own family, and the officious Steward who thrives on “kiss up, kick down” dynamics.
His Steward bows and scrapes to royalty but turns tyrant the moment he wields power over those below him.
Wrapping up the ensemble is none other than multi-awarded playwright Rody Vera, who pulls double duty as both the omniscient Narrator and the tampalasang Mysterious Man.
FAIRY TALES ARE FOREVER
Fairy tales here aren’t lessons to learn by rote.
This Manila staging makes headway on the old question—what survives after “happily ever after?”—as the characters parry cynicism with wit.
It refuses the glad-hander's sheen that would diminish the work, marching instead as a disciplined junto that won’t rest on imported laurels.
Off the page, the story reminds us that every choice we make grows roots that don't untangle so neatly.
Leave a knot behind, and the woods might just speak back.
Read more:
- Dolly de Leon, Lea Salonga share thoughts on yelling at workplace
- Mga awitin ni Mike Hanopol, bubuhayin sa Jeproks The Musical
- Iconic '80s movie na Bagets, magkakaroon ng stage adaptation