Last March 13 to 15, the Harlequin Theatre Guild (HTG) returned to the Natividad Fajardo-Rosario Gonzalez Auditorium spotlight for their yearly showcase of talents and crafted narratives with DuLaSalle 2k24: Candelabra. The four-act play was inspired by elements from the rich culture and diverse traditions of Candelaria, Quezon, taking off from the works of Dr. Mesándel V. Arguelles, a poet and associate professor of the Department of Literature. Candelabra bridged tales of justice and sacrifice as they brought light to persisting societal issues.
Who tells your story?
Capturing a hero’s legacy is no task for the weak. Introducing King, Candelabra’s first act, was played by one of its directors, Kizabelle Aromin. “Bago maging bayani ang isang bayani, sila muna ay tao. At bilang tao, sila rin ay nakararanas ng lungkot, takot, at pagkatalo.” The segment ignited the stage with a fiery fervor, which set the tone for what was to come. The act followed a reporter tasked with documenting the life of Carlos “King” Delos Reyes, a quiet hero of fictional Barangay Patag.
(Before a hero becomes a hero, they are first human. And as humans, they also experience sadness, fear, and defeat.)
As an orphan raising his little sister, King arrived at the barangay as a factory worker determined to rebuild his life. He refused to leave his workmates behind when a fire broke out at the factory, earning him the title of the community’s unwavering protector. He led them to safety and rushed back for those still trapped, even at the cost of his own life. Through the accounts of those he left behind, the reporter pieces together the legacy of a man who gave everything for others.
The flicker of flame
Shifting to a different kind of heroism and highlighting the fight for justice, the show’s second act, Ngiti sa Apoy, took the audience to Candelaria, Quezon. Tupe, a new and hopeful worker at an oil company, believes the key to her family’s future is in that industry. But beneath the factory’s polished facade, exploitation lurked and festered. The social truth became a personal pain when Tupe discovered that her own brother was bribed into taking on a dangerous task he was not trained for. And instead of receiving justice, he was served hush money to protect the factory’s reputation. With this realization, Tupe was at a crossroads: was she to stay silent and protect the illusion of stability or rise against the system and risk everything for what is right?
King’s story is a reminder of grief’s refusal to let love fade; it exists in the everyday acts of resilience and in the quiet yet unwavering resolve of workers who push forward despite exhaustion. Tupe’s journey, on the other hand, is a testament to the power of awakening—the moment when fear gives way to defiance. Her realization that they are not just cogs in the machine is a call to action.
In a world where the sacrifices of the working class go unseen, Candelabra’s first two acts are a reminder that the backbone of every industry, every city, and every movement is in unseen labor and perseverance. Heroism is not always about grand gestures or martyrdom. Rather, it is in the hands made rough by work and in the voices that refuse to be silenced.
A love letter to history
Within the stone walls of an ancestral home lies a tale of justice, superstition, and heritage. The third act, Kilapsaw, plunged into the lives of the father-daughter duo Lucero and Alon. An embittered widower, Lucero was determined to sell off their home, a house of stone that had been passed down through generations. This was, of course, to the dismay of his mother-in-law, who had left the humble abode in the care of his deceased wife. After their explosive argument, the young heroine of the story, Alon, resorted to visiting her mother’s grave, keeping her grandmother’s reminders and superstitions in mind.
Alon gave into the overwhelming longing, wandering to a mysterious river on the off chance it would allow her to reconnect with her departed mother. With both reluctance and curiosity, she dove in and found herself in a different world, surrounded by seemingly unfamiliar faces. Alon then recognized them as a youth group that fought during the Japanese occupation. While unable to find her mother’s spirit, she had unearthed the souls of those she had spent her life writing about. “Binibigyang lunas ng pag-alala ang dalamhati,” the group exclaimed, allowing the young girl to truly grasp the importance of her mother’s writings. Upon returning to consciousness, the incident shifted the family’s perspective on loss, grief, and resistance amid adversity. In the same way, Kilapsaw swayed the audience’s outlooks on keeping the departed’s memory alive, reminding them that recollections of the past are bridges to the present.
(Remembering provides relief to anguish.)
As the show grew closer to its finale, Candelabra’s fourth and final act, Kandili, showcased the lasting and defining impact of a memory, situated amid a festive barrio. As the people of a local barangay celebrate in peak Filipino fashion, over food and karaoke, Kandi’s unforeseen return brought back tragic wounds from twenty years past.
Kandi grew up in the barangay but eventually moved to Manila, leaving without even saying goodbye. More than twenty years onward, she returned to pay her respects to Teacher Paez, while a reunion with her old friend Hiro and Mayor Kix forced them to reflect upon grief, forgiveness, and moving forward. Once belonging to a group called the “Kandili Warriors,” Kandi and Hiro had emotionally-charged conversations as they reminisced and confronted a heavy ghost of their past, an accident that had killed their friends. Before going their separate ways, they bonded over Kandili Mo Ako, an emotional ballad that they had once sung and danced to as a group.
Hope burns bright
The second half of the production impressed every onlooker with the power of remembering and acknowledging the past, as even the most tragic memories still hold profound lessons. As the cast took their final bow, the reverberating cry of how hope continues to burn in the face of hopelessness echoed throughout the auditorium.
The heroism of King, the fierceness of Ngiti sa Apoy, the mystic tale of Kilapsaw, and the bittersweet reminiscing of Kandili each left an indelible mark on the hearts and minds of spectators. The play closed with a poem sounding, “‘Sing bigat ng katotohanan, ‘sing gaan ng pangarap at kalawakan” —and brought the three-day run of Candelabra to a triumphant close.
(As heavy as the truth, as light as dreams and vastness.)
