‘Tipid muna tayo sa therapy’: Inside the world of ‘We Aren’t Kids Anymore’

As is often the case in a world joyed by paradox, the more universal a feeling, the more difficult it is to capture just right.

We continue to feel the likes of love and grief in varying magnitudes, and we keep writing songs, novels, and letters—attempts to accurately document them, or, at the very least, commit the aftertaste to paper. Borrowing from Emma’s Mr. Knightley, if we experienced these feelings less, we might be able to talk about them more.

Broadway composer Drew Gasparini navigated this struggle by zooming in even more closely. The result is We Aren’t Kids Anymore, a 19-track song cycle about the contradictions of adulthood: loving your family then having to leave them behind, or pursuing your own path through gritted teeth then doubting if it’s even the right thing to do. 

Featuring a poem by Keith White with orchestrations and vocal arrangements by Gasparini and Justin Goldner, the show is currently running at Power Mac Center Spotlight Blackbox Theater in Circuit Makati until May 25 as Barefoot Theatre Collaborative’s first offering of the year. It is directed by Rem Zamora and stars Gab Pangilinan, Maronne Cruz, Gio Gahol, Luigi Quesada, and Myke Salomon, who all play Gasparini.

“No matter how old you are, this (show) will hit you if you’re trying to find your purpose or if you’re going through the changes necessary to achieve it, including all the joy and grief,” Cruz tells Young STAR. “His songs have a way of bringing out incredibly specific personal memories.”

Gasparini based the songs on his own life, but the opening track Hello, My Name is Drew establishes that while this is about Drew, we are all Drew. “The songs found me at the perfect time, and I found myself in the material. We continue to find ourselves in (it) every rehearsal process,” Quesada shares. 

This is largely what attracted the cast and artistic team to the song cycle. Gahol recounts his first encounter with it ahead of his audition: “Somewhere in the last 3-4 songs, I started crying and I wasn’t aware of it; tears just started to come out of my eyes.”

He adds that crying often comes “aggressively” to us, but this was gentler. “When that happened, I promised myself I would do everything in my power to pass the audition.”

The show was first staged in the US in 2019—Pangilinan says this isn’t like the usual “foreign musical na alam mong marami nang nakagawa,” so building the show entailed constant discovery. Director Zamora affirms that it wasn’t easy deciding what the world of WAKA would be like. “The script suggests it, but I guess we threw the script out the door.”

Part of the creative team are co-musical directors Farley Asuncion and Myke Salomon, who is also one of the actors. He discovered the song cycle during the COVID-19 pandemic and dreamt of sharing it with an audience.

“The songs are really strong to begin with,” he says. “All we have to do is dig deep and find something in it. Buti na lang we’re in the company of like-minded people – lahat gutom for discovery, and brave.”

“The deepest, darkest parts of adulthood that we’ve been trying to deal with on our own, na-uunearth siya sa production na ‘to. Tipid muna tayo sa therapy (kasi) meron naman tayo nito,” Cruz laughs.

Katrine Sunga, who serves as the female cover, shares that Zamora suggests they come as themselves, since so much of the material is about the challenges of being an artist. “We share the same struggles and sentiments about how life changes you, and to think na New Yorker (si Drew), eh mas mahirap maging artist dito sa Pilipinas,” adds Angelo Lantaco, the male cover.

Having the actors draw from their personal experiences enriches Gasparini’s original text – and widens the scope of what the show could be. “This was the first time I’m directing something (in the theater) after such a long time, and my process and outlook changed a lot because of this,” Zamora admits. “Because of the possibilities, there’s no way to get it on my own. I rely heavily on the team to get there. Not that I wasn’t doing that before, but now more than ever. Hindi ko kaya mag-isa.”

Part of the challenge, according to co-musical director Asuncion, is ensuring the show doesn’t come across as a concert. “If we just follow what’s in the cast album, that’s the radio-friendly version; (it’s) very easy listening. No stress, no high emotions. With how we’re treating it, the journey, energy, and pace are all different.”

Integral to WAKA’s world-building are movement director Jomelle Era; production designers Joey Mendoza and Hershee Tantiado; lighting designer and technical director D Cortezano; and sound designer Aron Roca. “Ganito siya ka-microscopic: Will an actor step forward, stop walking, or step back? Gan’on ka-minute ‘yung detail, pero pinag-uusapan (pa rin namin),” Era says.

Beyond the powerful numbers, among the show's most memorable moments is witnessing the team move together with precision and purpose, like a beating heart. It’s apparent that the people behind it believe deeply in the story and each other. “I said ‘yes’ to this (part) scared,” Lantaco reveals. “But when I rehearsed with these amazing, talented artists who are maybe just as scared as I am, nahahawa ako sa tapang nila.”

There’s no doubt that WAKA is not your usual trip to the theater, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. A song cycle can tap into emotional textures that may be left untouched by a straightforward narrative; the best course of action is to sit back and allow the material to move you. “The show is basically a conversation through music, and I hope ‘pag pinanood ‘to ng audience, they get the energy and are able to express their feelings and thoughts bravely,” Salomon says. “You’ll only receive the show as openly as you’re willing to. It will meet you where you are,” adds Pangilinan. 

Given the show’s title, I asked the WAKA team when they realized they were not kids anymore. Quesada, who began his response with, “At the youthful age of 26…” adding, “Growing up is giving things up.” This is true—we were talking about bills and taxes, but maybe it can also mean giving up our deep-seated beliefs that we’re alone, or that not being a kid anymore is something to dread. After all, as much as the show talks about self-doubt, loneliness, and disillusionment, it’s also stubbornly hopeful. What a relief to be reminded what a gift it is to come of age. 

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Barefoot Theatre Collaborative’s We Aren’t Kids Anymore will be staged until May 25. Follow @barefootcollab for more information.