Before seeing the show, I took the time to read through some of the online comments—not to arrive at a verdict before the curtain rose, but to get a sense of the prevailing public sentiment and see for myself whether the criticisms held water.
That is not to suggest that I am an authority on theater. I write simply as a viewer with some familiarity with performance and the performing arts, and with an appreciation for what it takes to bring a character to life onstage. '
Perhaps the loudest criticism was directed at Atasha Muhlach, the musical’s leading lady.
Being the daughter of matinee idol Aga Muhlach and beauty queen Charlene Gonzalez is, in many ways, a double-edged sword.
The names open doors, but they also invite scrutiny.
Expectations are inevitably higher, and every performance risks being measured against a standard that has less to do with the individual than with the weight of her surname.
Some netizens also questioned her singing ability, an understandable point of concern for someone taking on the lead role in a musical.
So, how did she measure up?
ATASHA MUHLACH AS ANNIE BATUNGBAKAL
Having seen the production, however, I can say that Atasha delivers, and not merely because of the evident work she has put into portraying her character.
At some point, Annie Batungbakal takes over Atasha Muhlach.
The distinction between performer and character begins to blur, and what emerges is not simply a young actress doing her best to play a role, but a woman who seems to have slipped into Annie’s skin.
Annie is a working Pinay with big dreams, a woman searching for her place in the world.
Atasha may not be the most technically adept dancer, but virtuosity, after all, is not the sole measure of a performer.
She dances with so much energy, owns the stage, and possesses the kind of presence that makes her difficult to ignore on the dance floor.
She has a natural flair for glamor, too.
Whether dressed in a colorful ensemble or in what some netizens have termed as “tagpi-tagping damit,” she carries her costumes with a certain ease.
Atasha also demonstrates a knack for comedic timing, an often-underappreciated skill that requires more than simply delivering a punchline.
And yes, she can sing. Her voice is clear, full, and resonant, with a pleasing tonal quality.
I even found myself wondering whether she could take “Pers Lab” a note higher.
Perhaps she has chosen to approach the number with restraint; perhaps the demands of performing live led to that decision.
Whatever the reason, one must remember that singing a beloved song before an audience whose eyes are fixed entirely on you is no small feat.
Familiarity breeds expectations, and a well-loved number comes with a burden of its own.
Her "Langit Na Naman" duet with KD Estrada, who plays Burn, is particularly remarkable.
Toward the latter part of their number, the audience fell into a hush, so absorbed in the performance that it took a moment for the room to register that the song had ended.
And perhaps that is the more important measure of Atasha’s performance: not whether she meets every expectation imposed on her, but whether she can make an audience forget, even momentarily, who she is outside the theater.
In those moments, she does.
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CAST PERFORMANCE
KD Estrada is a revelation.
I met him during a shoot with his former love-team partner, Alexa Ilacad, and I did not quite anticipate the transformation that would take place when he stepped onto the stage.
His voice is pleasing, though there are moments when his notes could use a little more staying power.
What makes his singing compelling, however, is his ability to imbue it with emotion.
He sings not merely with his voice but with his eyes, which convey longing, joy, and melancholy with a sincerity that draws you in.
There is something affecting about a performer who can make a song feel less like a musical number and more like a confession.
Anthony Rosaldo, meanwhile, slips effortlessly into the character of Romer Pasion.
Having seen him perform on several occasions, I knew his vocal prowess would not disappoint, and he delivered as expected.
His dancing is just as compelling, with a stage presence that makes it difficult to take your eyes off him.
My reservation, however, lies in the characterization.
I struggled to reconcile the son who arrives to see his mother with the playboy he turns out to be.
The transition felt insufficiently established, leaving me wanting a clearer sense of how one version of Romer gave way to the other.
Gerhard Krysstopher, who plays Toots, Annie’s buddy, is another delightful surprise.
His transformation is striking that I found myself asking, “Siya ba talaga ito?”
Air Paz-Pablico, as Annie’s mother Suzie, and Yani Lopez, as her sister Iste, also deserve their share of recognition.
Their performances help flesh out Annie’s world, giving the central character a family and a home to return to amid all the glitter and commotion.
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SET, STYLE, AND SPECTACLE
And to those who have dismissed the production as resembling a school play, I would respectfully disagree.
The set design alone is a convincing visual vocabulary for the era.
The Coco Banana could perhaps have benefited from a little more flamboyance to capture the unrestrained spirit of a disco, although the lighting does much of the work in establishing the requisite mood.
The costumes revel in the excesses of disco fashion, where glitter, bold colors, and extravagant silhouettes become extensions of the characters themselves.
At their best, they amplify the production’s theatrical flair. At their weakest, however, some look more assembled than designed.
The dancers, for their part, bring tremendous energy to the production.
The dance numbers unfold with such enthusiasm and visual activity that the eye hardly knows where to settle. There is always something happening, someone moving.
For me, the experience was a walk down memory lane; for my 13-year-old daughter, it was an introduction to an era she had never known.
She found the production “cool and colorful,” which, in its own way, is as telling a response as any.
What I experienced as nostalgia, she encountered as discovery.
THE SONGS
Then there are the songs.
I seldom use the word exuberant, but it is perhaps the most fitting description of the musical’s rendition of “Bongga Ka, ’Day!”
It is tailor-made for the stage: colorful, high-spirited, and brought to life by an ensemble whose collective energy makes the number all the more dazzling.
I also enjoyed Annie and Toots’s “Kulang” and Burn’s “Ikaw ang Miss Universe ng Buhay Ko,” both of which add their own flavor to the production’s musical landscape.
And here I must confess to a certain bias: I am a big fan of Hotdog’s original “Manila."
It is, to my ears, upbeat, grand, raucous, beautiful, and impossible to forget.
Its melody is instantly recognizable, but it is the sheer force of its spirit that makes it endure.
Iconic, in the truest sense of the word.
The musical’s rendition, while beautifully sung, takes a more subdued and mellow approach.
The introduction is strikingly familiar, but when the chorus arrives, the mood shifts.
The song seems to turn inward when I had expected it to burst outward.
For those who witnessed Hotdog perform it live, who felt the electricity of the music and experienced its infectious, almost irresistible energy, the difference is difficult to overlook.
My daughter, however, found the musical’s version “chill, so easy on the ears, nice to hear.”
And she is not wrong. It is a lovely interpretation in its own right, one that favors smoothness and restraint over the original’s more rousing energy. Good, just different.
An iconic song inevitably carries the weight of memory and personal attachment.
A new arrangement will not always reproduce the same feeling, nor should it necessarily be expected to.
Ultimately, Bongga Ka, ’Day! is bongga in more ways than one.
It is colorful, energetic, and unapologetically theatrical, with performances that offer their own surprises.
It may not satisfy every expectation, and certain choices invite debate, but it has enough heart and spectacle to make the experience worthwhile.
And perhaps that is the point: not to recreate the past note for note, but to bring it back to life for an audience that remembers it, and for another that is discovering it for the first time.