I can’t recall exactly when I watched filmmaker Mike de Leon’s Kisapmata, but given its central themes of power, fear, and repression, I imagine it’s not an easy film to watch if you’re a college student.
Back then, I certainly didn’t have the appreciation for it that I do now. That’s why I’m so thrilled that Tanghalang Pilipino’s staging of Kisapmata has sparked my renewed interest in de Leon’s film, and, by extension, in Nick Joaquin’s reportage on The House on Zapote Street.
Joaquin’s reportage on the house on Zapote Road reads like the stuff of a telenovela, with its gripping narrative and dramatic twists. It is easy to understand why it captured the attention of the filmmaker and inspired him to create his iconic film. Writing as Quijano de Manila, Joaquin provided a journalistic account of a real-life murder and the circumstances leading to the tragic event.
The value of his reportage lies in its factual recounting, while detailing the psychological and emotional environment that led to the crime. As a work of reportage, Joaquin distanced himself from overt dramatization.
In contrast, the film and the stage adaptations both prioritize emotional engagement through their different mediums. The film adaptation expertly utilizes filmmaking techniques and elements, such as lighting, sound, visual imagery, and editing, to heighten the unsettling tension.
Close-ups and slow, deliberate camera movements work in tandem to cultivate an oppressive, claustrophobic atmosphere that grips the viewer with mounting unease. Visual cues, rather than spoken words, slowly reveal the father’s authoritarian control and its disastrous consequences, making the viewers deeply invested in the psychological horror narrative.
Adapted for the stage and directed by Guelan Luarca, the stage version uses dialogue that exposes the raw emotions of the characters, turning the family’s psychological struggle into an immediate and intense experience for the audience.
For me, the minimalist stage design is one of the most striking elements of the production, perfectly complementing the dark tone of the play and enriching its unfolding drama. Spare and unobtrusive, the set reflects the seemingly “simple” family while subtly reimagining the suffocating atmosphere they inhabit. The oppressive presence of the father is underscored by the stripped-down environment, amplifying the sense of isolation and tension within the family dynamic.
With such a minimalist set, the audience can focus entirely on the characters, their emotions, and the tension building within the confined stage space. Featuring the TP Actors Company, Kisapmata is truly an actor’s playground, providing a platform for the cast to showcase their immense range and skill. The complexity of the characters, driven by psychological tension and emotional conflict, allows each actor to explore deep, nuanced performances.
I’ve always admired Toni Go’s acting, but in Kisapmata, she delivers an even more compelling performance. She brings a raw intensity to her character, capturing both the vulnerability and strength that define her role as Mila. Toni’s ability to convey the emotional depth of her character, from moments of quiet desperation to scenes of overwhelming tension, is nothing short of impressive.
Tad Tadioan’s portrayal of the psychotic, gaslighting father Dadong in Kisapmata is impressive, but I found it a little wanting. The character’s complexity, with his ability to switch between calm and aggression, has great potential, and I wished Tadioan had explored the darker aspects of the father’s psyche.
Kudos also to Lhorvie Nuevo (as Nanay Dely) and Marco Viana (as son-in-law Noel) for their outstanding portrayals. Nuevo brings a subtle yet powerful depth to her character, while Viana captures the emotional intensity with remarkable nuance. Both add layers to the production, enhancing the overall impact of the performance.
And yes, I would definitely have nightmares from the “bulong,” that eerie whispering that adds an unsettling, spine-chilling effect that lingers long after the scene ends. It perfectly amplifies the psychological horror, leaving the audience with a sense of dread that’s hard to shake off.
Though each medium approaches the story differently, they all converge in their exploration of the dangers of oppressive authority and the psychological impact of familial violence. In doing so, Kisapmata serves as a powerful commentary on the destructive effects of power, fear, and repression, regardless of how the story is told.