“You are heard. You are valued. You are beautiful.” These words echo throughout Isang Pamilya, a devised play by Ateneo ENTABLADO, written by Maria Tria (from original material by Tyron Casumpang), and directed by Joy Delos Santos. Each time a character dares to reveal their truth, the phrase initially rings with the promise of healing. But by the end of the play, when facades crack and wounds are laid bare, it begins to feel rehearsed—like a hollow mantra unable to contain the rot hidden beneath the surface.

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In Isang Pamilya, the dysfunction of a political dynasty is placed on stage—both literally and figuratively—in a biting theatrical satire that begins as a comedy and slowly crumbles into a tragedy. Premiering in May 2025 as the second act of PERSONALITIKA, the season ender for Ateneo ENTABLADO’s 42nd year, this character-driven production blurs the lines between performance and reality. Through the conceit of family therapy, the play dissects generational trauma, political ambition, and the unhealed wounds that power both family and state. The production succeeds not only in exposing the deeply personal cost of public power, but also asking: When the performance ends, what do we take home with us?

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Power on the Couch!

At its core, Isang Pamilya is a family trying—and failing—to reconcile in the spotlight. The stage is set as a family therapy session, but what unfolds is a raw, unraveling portrait of a political dynasty clinging to power, control, and legacy.

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The patriarch, Alejandro Montemayor who is played by Rick Pingol, is no longer just a father, but a figure calcified by years in power—served as mayor of their unnamed town for decades. Marked by a history of violence, infidelity, and control, his leadership extends as much over his household as it does his constituency. His presence looms over the lives of his children, who have spent their lives cast in his shadow. Now, however, that shadow shrinks as both Juanito and Natalia Montemayor campaign against him for the mayoral seat, challenging not only his political power but also the legacy he once deemed unshakeable.

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The eldest child, Juanito Montemayor (Gabriel Nathan Pacardo), is burdened by unresolved grief and a strained need for his father’s approval. His political ambition is shaped as much by personal wounds as his desire for power. In contrast, Natalia Montemayor (Nera Paala and Leoraine Dela Cruz, alternatively), the youngest and born out of wedlock, campaigns with the urgency of someone long overlooked. Her bid for power becomes both a demand for recognition and a critique of how gender and legitimacy shape one’s worth, even within a family. In a system that has treated her as an afterthought, her struggle for political power underscores the unequal expectations placed on her, especially as a woman in a legacy dominated by male authority.

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At the center of this uneasy reunion is Cookie Montemayor (Claudette Galgana), the father’s second wife and former child celebrity who is now running as a partylist representative candidate. Caught in the liminal space between stepmother and peer, she navigates the complex dynamics of a family on the brink of unraveling. Whether a sincere gesture or strategic attempt at repair, she proposed the therapy session. Though it quickly became apparent that reconciliation, if that was ever the goal, was never going to be so simple.

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Tensions erupt early. “How supported are you by your family?” asks Doc Issa (Axel Limjoco), the family’s psychiatrist, whose question lands with the weight of an emotional explosion waiting to happen. One by one, the characters unravel: a father threatened by his children’s defiance, a daughter recounting the quiet humiliations of being dismissed, and a son haunted by the belief that his father may have killed his mother. In one of the play’s more harrowing moments, Alejandro slaps Juanito and, with chilling authority, demands if his son is ready for the brutal realities of political power, asking whether he is prepared to die—or to have others die—for it. The line, delivered with terrifying clarity, shatters any remaining illusion that this is merely a family affair—it is a rehearsal for power, steeped in the real language of violence and control.

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And still, they go on. (Or, perhaps they do not anymore).

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Behind Closed Curtains

The brilliance of Isang Pamilya lies in how the production utilizes theatrical form not just to tell a story, but to implicate the audience in its performance. Framed as an open rehearsal, the play constantly asks: What is real, and what is performed? Characters call “cut” in the heat of arguments, but the scenes persist relentlessly until the illusion breaks entirely. In one pivotal moment, after Alejandro slaps Juanito and the actors attempt to stop, the father continues on, seemingly possessed. The therapy session then becomes a stage, the stage then becomes a trap, and no one walks away unscathed.

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This open rehearsal and “play within a play” format is more than just a stylistic choice, it is a narrative device that deepens the story’s political critique. Every character is performing a role, whether as a politician, parent, or child. And as the play breaks the fourth wall, it draws attention to how easily those performances slip into real life. What begins as a carefully constructed scene becomes an uncontrolled confrontation that exposes the emotional cost of scripted lives. The boundaries between actor and character, stage and reality, therapy and theater blur, leaving the audience acutely aware of its own gaze. We are not just passive spectators; we are witnesses, enablers. We are complicit in the spectacle that upholds power through repetition, illusion, and silence.

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In a country where dynastic politics, corruption, and performative leadership are the norm, Isang Pamilya is a mirror that reflects a culture where the personal is political, and where sincerity is often staged to conceal deeper wounds. The production makes it painfully clear that the stage is not confined to the theater—campaigns are choreographed, narratives are rehearsed, and the public is expected to play along, sustaining systems of power precisely because they are performed.

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Stage left, Nation right?

We are told that we are a part and take part in the nation’s progress. “Kasama ka sa pag-unlad,” but what does that imply when “development” only serves the powerful? In Isang Pamilya, no one is spared, because in this system, everyone is a player—willingly or not. The play does not just invite observation—it demands its audience to go beyond passive consumption. It calls for vigilance, a more critical engagement with the structures that shape our lives.

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By showing how easily authority cloaks itself in the language of care and how often we mistake performance for truth, the production urges us to confront difficult questions: Whose narratives are we believing? Whose interests are being served? In what ways do we enable the very systems we claim to oppose? These are truths we must confront not only of our leaders, but of ourselves.

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In the end, there is no resolution, but only exposure. The rehearsal never truly ends, because the performance never actually stops. What began as satire peels back to reveal something uncomfortably familiar. The therapy session collapses, the script is discarded, and what remains is a confrontation with our own complicity—as watchers, as voters, and as citizens.

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As the 2025 Midterm Elections draw near, Isang Pamilya lands not just as a mirror, but as a warning. It reminds us that political theater does not end on stage—the choices we make, or choose not to make, have consequences far beyond the curtain call. The question, then, is no longer just what the play reveals, but whether we are ready to listen. So when the lights dim and the actors bow, what do we take home with us? And in a nation where performance and power are so tightly entwined, how long can we keep pretending not to recognize the script?

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Shine Cabantog is a second-year student pursuing a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Information Design at the Ateneo de Manila University. Her interdisciplinary practice engages with visual art and design, with particular interest in the intersections of form, narrative, and communication. When not buried in design projects, she can be found catching up with the Cateneans around campus. For a glimpse of her works, visit @foundobjects.png on Instagram.

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