[In the following review, Bacalzo offers high praise for the March 2001 Public Theater production of Dogeaters, asserting that the stage production successfully transforms the broad-ranging novel into “a vibrant theatrical landscape.”]

Jessica Hagedorn's 1990 novel, Dogeaters, is not the easiest work to adapt for the stage. Set in the Philippines during the Marcos regime, this epic book is filled with numerous characters that have detailed personalities and eccentricities. The novel is also infused with a Filipino pop culture aesthetic that draws from American movies, local radio soap operas, and a celebrity-driven political system. Hagedorn's own stage adaptation successfully transforms this mix into a vibrant theatrical landscape.

The author takes two minor characters from her novel—radio and screen stars Barbara Villanueva and Nestor Noralez—and transforms them into Brechtian narrators. Hagedorn ingeniously uses the book's preoccupation with movies and show business to create a purely theatrical method of telling the story. Played by Mia Katigbak and Ralph B. Peña, Barbara and Nestor become perky talk show hosts. They introduce key players in the drama, as well as provide historical background for those in the audience unfamiliar with the history of Philippine politics. An early segment features Barbara and Nestor talking with nineteenth-century French Jesuit priest Jean Mallat (Christopher Donahue), who is appearing on their show to promote his new book about the Philippines. The sequence is so absurd and playful that it overcomes any tendencies towards preachiness or heavy-handed didacticism. At the same time, it provides a critical introduction to the history of colonialism and imperialism that characterizes the Philippines' relationship with the West.

The play (like the novel) contains numerous characters and subplots, but ultimately focuses on two primary storylines. The first is the murder of Senator Domingo Avila (Joel Torre), an outspoken critic of the Marcos regime. There are, of course, direct parallels to the assassination of Filipino senator Benigno Aquino, gunned down at a Manila airport in 1983. The assassination within the play leaves behind a witness: a young Afro-Filipino hustler named Joey Sands, played with manic energy by the charismatic Hill Harper. Joey loses control over his life through no fault of his own, and gets swept up in political situations he does not fully understand.

The other major storyline revolves around Rio Gonzaga, a Filipina-American returning to her native land to attend her grandmother's funeral. This character seems closest to the playwright's own life. In a sublime costuming decision, designer Brandin Barón has made the actress playing Rio (Kate Rigg) resemble a young Jessica Hagedorn. Several of Rigg's vocal inflections and onstage mannerisms also mimic those of the playwright.

These two main narratives are only loosely connected to each other. Joey's tale is an action-adventure story, filled with danger, death, and revolution. Rio's is more meditative; she is forced to come to terms with her own presence as outsider in the nation of her birth. “Everything has changed,” she says, “And nothing is different.”

Hagedorn took great pains in her original work not to identify President Marcos and his wife by name, instead referring to them as simply the President and First Lady. Yet, in the stage version, there are numerous mentions of Imelda Marcos, as well as an exquisitely devastating portrayal of the character by Ching Valdes-Aran. The actress' chiseled features and regal bearing lend a powerful presence to the first lady. While she speaks in polite tones, an underlying air of menace permeates her presence. She need not do much to demonstrate her power; a pointed glance at Barbara Villanueva has the talk show hostess struggling to regain her composure.

Director Michael Grief (best known for directing the Tony Award-winning musical Rent) infuses the work with an energetic pacing, flavored with a distinctly rock and roll beat. The action flows seamlessly from scene to scene, with slide projections (designed by John Woo) helping to distinguish changes in locale. Greif also uses every inch of scenic designer David Gallo's set, which resembles an industrial catwalk with multiple levels. One scene has a young revolutionary work his way up and across the metallic scaffolding, as if climbing a balcony to meet his ladylove—who in this case happens to be Senator Avila's daughter.

Sex and sexuality are commodities within the world of the play. A gay disco even serves as one of the show's primary locales. The place is run by Andres “Perlita” Alacran, played with a campy charm by Alec Mapa. The actor performs a drag lip synch routine to Donna Summer's “Bad Girls,” that provides much needed comic relief. Another scene depicts a sexual underground where patrons can go to watch live sex acts. A young heterosexual couple are shown making love. Afterwards, the young man turns to those watching and says quite simply, “Okay, boss? You want us to do that again?” Sex is never shown as simply a pleasurable activity; it is used by the various characters in the play to make money, negotiate political favors, or demonstrate power.

The multiplicity of these power relations is what makes the play so fascinatingly complex. All the characters are caught in a web of socio-political machinations, and are at the same time attempting to come out on top. And yet, there are also moments of genuine affection and perhaps even love that are possible within this dog eat dog world. Towards the end of the play, Rio reunites with two friends of her mother's whom she has not seen since childhood. They embrace her warmly and welcome her home.

Although the play is undoubtedly semi-autobiographical and integrates real-life characters and events into the script, Hagedorn is not writing a documentary of either her life or the Philippines, and should not be taken to task for any historical inaccuracies. Dogeaters is an intriguing blend of fact and fiction, telling a moving story of political upheaval and personal growth. It is undoubtedly an ambitious work, but succeeds in painting a portrait of Filipino culture in the early 1980s—complete with its class divisions, social networks, and political intrigues.