Featured art by Bhernn Saenz. With images courtesy of PETA.
MANILA, Philippines — The lights are dimming again. The stage breathes in. And somewhere between revolution and romance, the wound is ready to speak.
PETA’s critically-acclaimed hysterical stage comedy, “Walang Aray” is back. Not to start over, but to dig deeper. Not to repeat, but to remember. And for this second rerun, PETA isn’t simply bringing back a hit. They’re re-opening the story, re-cutting the edge, and inviting us all to bleed with a little more intention.
On its second rerun, PETA’s runaway hit doesn’t tiptoe back onto the stage. It kicks the door open, sequins and all, and insists you feel something. More than nostalgia. More than pride. This time, it’s asking you to stay a little longer inside the wound. To watch how it throbs. To witness how, somehow, it learns to dance and sing again.
(L-R) Jon Abella, Shaira Opsimar, Marynor Madamesila, Gio Gahol, and Lance Reblando. Photos by Paw Castillo courtesy of PETA.
Even in its original form, “Walang Aray” thrived in contradiction: humor built from history, resistance wrapped in love songs, tragedy softened by absurdity. But this rerun turns the volume up. Director Ian Segarra returns, this time flanked by Norbs Portales, whose presence cracks the story open even wider. Together, they tear into the text, not with caution, but with curiosity. Scenes are re-sketched. Lines are re-interrogated. Songs are made sharper, bolder, and funnier. And in that chaos, the truth lands harder.
Expect music that refuses to play it safe. Original composer Vince Lim has laced this rerun with fresh arrangements and cheekier orchestrations, new songs stitched into familiar melodies, giving old wounds a different rhythm to pulse to. If last musical moments made you hum, this year’s return will leave audiences, old and new, humming with your whole chest.
In this new staging, familiar names share the spotlight with fresh faces, each one bringing something honest and vibrant to the story. Lance Reblando steps into the role of Julia, gracefully, grounded, and unapologetically herself. Rendell Sanchez brings charm and intensity as the newest Miguel; Divine Aucina’s Monica is both witty and warm. Gold Villar-Lim and Roi Calilong offer striking presence as Juana and Padre Alfaro.
Then there’s Ice Seguerra brings warmth and wit, slipping into his role with the ease of someone who’s always known how to hold space. And in a performance that’s part camp, part celebration, Jolina Magdangal reminds us why she remains such a beloved presence, this time, in a new kind of spotlight in her theatrical debut.
Original cast (L-R): Jarred Jaicten, Gie Onida, Johnnie Moran, Neomi Gonzales, Carlon Matobato, Gerard Dy, Csairus Habla, Ada Tayao, Bene Manaois, Ayla Garcia, Yeyin de la Cruz, Kiki Baento. New cast: (L-R) Ice Seguerra, Roi Calilong, Bomba Ding, Miah Canton, MC Dela Cruz, Otep Madriaga, Gold Villar-Lim, Rendell Sanchez, Matel Patayon, James Lanante, Divine Aucina, Zoe Damag. Photos by Paw Castillo courtesy of PETA.
The stage pulses also with the rhythm of new ensemble voices of James Lanante, MC Dela Cruz, Bomba Ding, Otep Madriaga, Miah Canton, Matel Patayon, and Zoe Damag. The grounding force of it all is the return of the loved original lead and supporting cast members like Gio Gahol, Jon Abella, Shaira Opsimar, Marynor Madamesila, Bene Manaois, Jarred Jaicten, Gie Onida, Kiki Baento, Carlon Matobato, Neomi Gonzales, and many more who return like memory made flesh. And you get a cast that doesn’t just perform the story but live inside it.
Behind the scenes, the creative team keeps the vision burning. Rody Vera’s words still cut, Lim’s music, now reworked and expanded, still sings, and under Segarra and Portales’ direction, the show beats with new life. Add choreography by Gahol, set by Julio Garcia, lights by David Esguerra, costumes by Bonsai Cielo, and sound by Happy Constantino, and you get more than just a musical. You get a full-bodied experience, alive and full of heart.
Under the gentle vision of PETA’s new Artistic Director J-mee Katanyag, this rerun becomes more than a revival thus it becomes an act of care, a quiet resistance, and a space where love and truth are allowed to take center stage.
Around them, the cast feels like a chorus of energies that clash, blend, and eventually dance together. Some are names we’ve watched for years. Others are new voices finding their rhythm. But all of them, every single one of them move with a sense of purpose, of joy, of something bigger than just telling a story.
PETA’s “Walang Aray” press conference photo. Image courtesy of PETA.
There’s no resting on past ovations here. This version breathes new life into every corner: freshly cut earworms for songs, rewired references, and a cast that doesn’t just fill roles but redefines what a leading character is allowed to look like. The result is electric. Unpredictable. Braver.
This is a revival of purpose. A reclamation of the stage. A reminder that art isn’t soft. It’s sharp. It cuts, it carves, and when held with care and it heals.
Theater has always been a gentle yet powerful way to tell the truth. In its own quiet way, it helps us remember what we often forget: that stories matter. That voices deserve to be heard. And that even in the heaviest moments, there is still space for softness, for resistance, and for hope.
And if Walang Aray leaves you with anything, between the laughter and the ache, it’s the reminder that in a world full of pain, we still get to stand. We still get to love. Tumindig at umibig… pa more.
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