Theater Review: Watching 'Tulog Na: The Musical' Is Like Mindless Scrolling Before Bed

Up to 81.9 percent of the Philippine population is active on social media, spending an average of 54 hours per week (roughly 7.7 hours per day), according to a March 2026 research by online media, social, and consumer intelligence company Meltwater. Most of these hours are spent mindlessly scrolling before bed, swiping reel after reel, laughing at one meme and then another, chuckling at a random video and then the next. And this is probably why Studio A Productions' Tulog Na: The Musical “worked” for a certain demographic, maybe even up to 81.9 percent of the audience during the sold-out performance on the holiday of August 21. And by “worked,” I mean they laughed at one canned banter and then another, let out stifled cries at a random scene and then the next, and clapped every blackout—as if swiping scene after scene.

But fleeting emotional reactions don't prove an artwork's worth, Stendhal syndrome aside.

Because if watching Tulog Na: The Musical is like mindless scrolling before bed, is it really worth paying P1,000 to P4,000 for a ticket, taking the time and effort to commute to and from Circuit Makati or RCBC (for the extension), and sitting through three hours of brainrot? After all, you can get the same dopamine hit from an AI-generated short reel on your phone, maybe even one with talking dogs, without having to leave your house.

Headlining the production is Pokwang, who's also marking this as her first-ever stage performance. But apparently, despite her face being in all the posters, she's not exactly the main character of the narrative. Tulog Na: The Musical centers instead on 10 corpses who find themselves in a morgue managed by married couple Rose (Pokwang) and Mal (Jimson Buenagua). It is written by Danna Bernardino and directed by Jef Albea.

As Rose and Mal periodically enter and exit, blackouts allow the dead characters to position themselves on the steel tables in groups. When the lights return, the dead rise to interact, with the intent of introducing their backstories and figuring out how they died.

First, there's the gay family man Jojo (Jeremy Manite), the old lady Alya (Zenaida Sevilla Loyola), and the high school student Angela (Eunice Somintac). Then, the lights switch off and on, Rose and Mal enters with their usual nagging, the lights are turned off and on again, a few (pre-recorded) bars from Ebe Dancel's "Tulog Na" are played, and then the next group enters: the gay prisoner Rochelle (Primitivo Moscare), the OFW Josie (Farrah Era), the terminally ill child Rex (Nicollo Gutierrez). The whole lights-on-lights-off sequence happens again, then the rest of the dead come in: the girl in a white dress Biyang (Cary Faith Rodolfo), the homeless Grace (Rachel May Lagad), the influencer Tamara (Cherry Morena), and the delivery rider Victor (Jude Gamaliel Tan). Somewhere in the 50-minute mark, the married couple's own drama is revealed—though without any sign of a rising action or even a prompt: Mal is a disappointment of a husband for Rose; Rose has cancer and is forgetting things.

After three dragging hours, we eventually find out how almost everyone died, except for the elderly Alya, whose origin remains a mystery—especially toward the end of Act 1. The show even forces in a random game show segment just to construct a full scene around it.

It turns out Alya is actually Rose, having spent her golden years waiting to be reunited with her deceased husband. Tracking the overall narrative, this splits the story into two distinct timelines: Rose and Mal's, and then Alya's alongside the other corpses—running parallel despite frequent physical interactions between the two worlds. It doesn't make much sense on a literal level and shatters any standing suspension of disbelief, but then again, logic isn't exactly this musical's strong suit.

Rather than relying on a traditional overarching plot, the narrative of Tulog Na: The Musical unfolds as vignettes: 10 + 1, to be exact. While an episodic structure isn't inherently flawed, the real issue lies in how the production executes it.

What jumpstarts the story in the first place? What is at stake for the characters? This part of world-building relies on identifying the want (external desire), needs (internal truth), and obstacles (or fears/flaws) of the characters, and that is hardly the case for Tulog Na: The Musical’s ensemble-heavy narrative.

What does Rose want and need? Rose is just... there. She's followed around by a husband dishing out cheap punchlines, desperately hoping at least one of them lands with his wife (and with the audience).

Why are the corpses there and what’s keeping them there? Well, because they’re corpses and this is a morgue, understandable. But what’s the obstacle? The dead characters remain in the morgue until they figure out how they died. The obstacle is that they have forgotten (or are choosing to forget). And so what if they can’t figure it out? What’s at stake? Apparently, none. Because Alya, the old lady, has been there for a long time and it never mattered that she’s been stuck there—and there’s also no real reason why now? Why did she suddenly “remember” who she is? Why did it suddenly matter that Rose “remembered” that she is Alya?

Why is this story happening in the first place? One hour in and there’s still no clarity as to what is happening.

After the long exposition in Act 1, we later find out the 10 characters’ own issues (a.k.a. the reason for their deaths), but not without some problematic takes.

Rape becomes another plot twist…again. In my earlier review of the brilliant Man of La Mancha, though outdated to a fault, I discussed the problem of how “Western literature often depicts rape as a means of establishing male dominance, both from the villain (who does the deed) and from the protagonist (whose heroism is propelled).” In Tulog Na, it is used for its shock factor.

High schooler Angela suddenly recalls how she died while the other corpses sleep—without a prompt, because in this show, things just happen for no reason. We see a flashback scene with her two friends, convincing them to go to a party with her. The friends decline, forcing her to go alone, and she ends up getting gang-raped. Her monologue ultimately reinforces a deeply problematic message—that of victim-blaming oneself. This doesn’t get better, and she leaves the scene in a song about rape and regret.

This opens the door to even more problematic angles, as if Tulog Na: The Musical was desperately trying to check off every heavy societal issue at once—from abortion and suicide to homosexuality.

Tamara, the influencer, reveals she died by suicide—only to be met with severe moralizing from Rochelle (whose actual name is Celso), who dismisses her death as nothing more than a poor "decision." Biyang, the "good girl," dies from a botched abortion, bleeding out on the table. She, too, blames herself—a flawed narrative choice that the script leaves entirely unchallenged, treating her self-blame as truth. Jojo lived a life of regret as a closeted gay man, again putting the blame on himself instead of the society that pushed him deeper into it.

Tulog Na is an issue-bloated musical with sequences undeniably engineered to force tears from the audience. Much like how it hurls out cheap jokes one after another, it also spams emotional, tear-jerking beats in rapid succession—as if operating on a "more entries, more chances of winning" mindset.

Studio A Productions has been the subject of a TheaterFansManila.com article for suspicious attribution of its composer. Tulog Na is its third musical, following Kaning Itim and Makara, and all three did not publicly identify a composer or lyricist. As this is a musical, these artistic credits are obviously the most important.

Initially, for Tulog Na's credits, Studio A told TFM: "The music and lyrics for the musical were composed by Studio A Productions’ in-house creative team, working collaboratively to develop the show’s original score." Then the company later identified a certain JR Dee for its music and lyrics. Dee has zero social media presence, so we can only assume that this is this person's first musical. Or that he's not a real person. Or that he's embarrassed about the music and lyrics he has created, thus hiding from the face of the Earth, because I would be too.

Music is incredibly important for a musical. Songs should drive the story forward and not only repeat what’s been said in the dialogue. Otherwise, what's the point?

But what can you really say in an eight-liner song? Tulog Na: The Musical has this recurring pattern of a character’s exposition in monologue, then singing the same idea in a “song” of eight to 10 lines, written as two stanzas, often as a monorhyme with weak rhyming words (example, “ko”, “mo”, and “ito”). If the songs are removed, the dialogue still stands, and that’s a problem because again, music is incredibly important for a musical.

Why not opt for longer songs? Was there a strict limit to what Dee can create or generate?

The musical doesn't have a live band, which is uncommon in musicals but not unheard of, but that could have been an opportunity for the production to smooth out its sound design (credited to EJ Baliton). It is true that Power Mac Center Spotlight doesn't have the best acoustics, but if you have a sound designer, why did everything still sound like a tin can? We know what they say about empty tin cans.

Tulog Na: The Musical is set in a morgue—with set and costume design by director Jef Albea himself—so the overall aesthetic is overwhelmingly dark. Even with Mark Albea’s lighting design, darkness dominates the stage. The spotlights are often too small to illuminate an actor, and unhelpful blocking only compounds the issue.

Finding the light is a struggle not just for the actors, but for the entire production—both literally and metaphorically. That a sold-out run can extend for another weekend 'due to insistent public demand' despite these flaws leaves one wondering what standard is actually being set. It seems like a very expensive way to consume content that I could see on my phone while sitting on the toilet.

This is a review of the matinee performance on August 21, a week after opening

Tulog Na runs until August 30 at Power Mac Center Spotlight, 2/F Circuit Makati, and from September 11 to 13 at the Carlos P. Romulo Auditorium, RCBC Plaza.

ALSO READ:

Theater Review: 'Man of La Mancha' Ticks Off All the Right Boxes

Theater Review: Setting as Character, Found Space as Paid Actor in 'El Fuego del Alma'