Theater Review: Miranda & Yolanda Reaffirms the Expansive Range of Floy Quintos

My introduction to the world of Floy Quintos came relatively late: in 2017, when I first encountered the UP Playwrights' Theatre staging of The Angry Christ. That production was widely acclaimed for its intimate, agonizing portrait of the artist Alfonso Ossorio, offering a glimpse into the psychological depth the playwright could breathe into a character-driven narrative. Then I caught Laro (Artist Playground, 2019), another piece of intricate character study that explored the vulnerabilities and cycles of the human condition. Now, in this posthumous staging of Evening at the Opera and Ang Kalungkutan ng mga Reyna (billed by Encore Theater as Miranda & Yolanda), I am reminded of Quintos' ability to pivot from tragedy to comedy, from profoundly mournful to hilariously absurd. More importantly, his scripts remain essential studies in the craft—models of structural clarity that never sacrifice emotional complexity.

Watching the first play of the twin bill felt like flipping through a sample piece for a class in Playwriting. I could imagine my fingers passing through every line, as if underlining every word on the first few pages as I am introduced to Miranda, a woman of elegance, culture, and vengeance. Ana Abad Santos is divine in the lead role: exuding an elevated grace in scenes of affluence, a sharp-eyed slyness in moments of deceit, and a shattering vulnerability in times of tragedy.

The first scene brings us to her bedroom as she prepares for, well, an evening at the opera—one where she has spent millions to bring the Italian classic to their small province. Her language reveals her intelligence, her movement unveils her penchant for being above everyone else, and her imaginary conversation with her dead Mamang (Frances Makil-Ignacio) shows us her vulnerability. Quintos’ diction for Mamang, one that is mixed with old-rich Spanish expressions, is executed by Makil-Ignacio with a certain flair and, at the same time, the composure required of the character.

Miranda comes from a local political family—her mother, whose lineage was married into by her late father, the image of a strongman. As the banter between Miranda and Mamang goes by (and pages of this imaginary script in front of us are turned), we learn about her own marriage of convenience to Bingo (Joshua Cabiladas), the current governor who likewise rules with a gun. 

When Bingo comes home (after much delay and the subsequent annoyance from Miranda) and intrudes on the silent scene between mother and daughter, a contrasting dialogue ensues. Bingo is representative of violent rural politics. Though physically smaller and perhaps less imposing than Jonathan Tadioan, who originated the role in 2011, he commands the stage with a subtle malice that brings a palpable chill to the room. He is most comfortable in his washed-out jeans and denim jacket—a sanggano in the munisipyo, for all intents and purposes. He speaks in almost-broken English, with that distinct accent of someone obviously clawing his way through the language, peppered with crisp curses.

After about 25 minutes, just in time for that 20-page mark of an inciting incident in Writing 101, the tension that has been slowly bubbling to the surface shoots up, escalating the conversation between Miranda and Bingo. We finally learn of her secrets, which she uses as leverage. Here is a woman who tries to flip the script. She reminds the sanggano that she has all the power. But this is the Philippines, and the climax reminds us that. Bingo, by the use of force, reclaims that power—ultimately bringing back Miranda to where she belongs, ending the piece in a tragedy.

While Evening at the Opera offers a gritty, realist glimpse into the backrooms of provincial politics, Ang Kalungkutan ng mga Reyna is an exercise in deliberate superfluity. At its center is Yolanda (Shamaine Centenera-Buencamino), a sitting president who has just declared Martial Law. Convinced that the nation requires a radical change, she summons hairstylist Marcel De Alba (Topper Fabregas). Yolanda aspires to be queen and change the political system into a monarchy. And the Palace is transformed to match her delusions (and/or frustrations)—a lavish design feat executed by Mitoy Sta. Ana. However, where Evening at the Opera moved at a perfect pace under Dexter Santos’ direction, Ang Kalungkutan ng mga Reyna tended to linger, with a runtime that felt overextended compared to its original Virgin Labfest run (or so I’ve heard).

While Centenera-Buencamino maintains her signature command of the stage, there are moments where her energy seems to fracture. It appears her pace is intended to be matched—or perhaps carried—by the ensemble, yet the momentum is frequently punctured by clunky scene changes and the inclusion of song numbers by the generals. Instead of keeping the performance afloat, these in-betweens create gaps in the narrative.

On the other hand, Fabregas, while stripping away his usual onstage mannerisms, occasionally struggles to find the balance between a stereotypical 'parloristang bakla'—which Marcel De Alba certainly is not—and the world-class, elegant stylist the character is written to be. However, as the play progresses into a showcase of increasingly superfluous wigs, the narrative itself begins to demand a certain level of tackiness from him. And it became a challenge to pull this off.

Encore Theater’s Miranda & Yolanda is an invitation to look behind the curtain of authority and witness the personal cost of public ambition. While the two plays differ in rhythm and style, they share a resonance that is impossible to ignore.

This is a review of the 7 p.m. performance on April 11, the second show on opening day.

Miranda & Yolanda ran from April 11 to May 3 at the Power Mac Center Spotlight Blackbox Theater, Ayala Malls Circuit, Makati.

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