In 1997, Kenneth Lonergan wasn’t simply desperate for a title when he decided to stretch his one-act play, BETRAYED BY EVERYONE, to a full-length and rename it THIS IS OUR YOUTH. Though barely passable for a commercial title, it still comes with a deeper context. See, in its full form, Lonergan’s material manages to explore the duality of reason and presents a clearer understanding of what “we” used to be. THIS IS OUR YOUTH examines the truth about our mindless decisions and cruel realizations, during a time when hope was fresh and tomorrow was always another day.

Nineteen-year-old Warren crushes into twenty-two-year-old Dennis Ziegler’s flat in Manhattan’s Upper West Side. With a big suitcase, he announces that his father can’t bear him smoking weed in the house and throws him out. Warren admits that before he left his father’s place, he stole fifteen thousand dollars from his father’s closet. He knows that it’s bad money, anyway. But he wants to get even with his father. The two argue as to how they’d use the stolen sum. At first, Dennis doesn’t want to be involved, but Warren has other ideas. He plans to spend the money on drugs, girls and have a good time. Enter Jessica, a common acquaintance to whom Warren has developed a crush on. Dennis leaves Warren and Jessica by themselves as he steps out of the flat to pursue a proposed plan.

Dennis’ flat is lavishly messy and chaotically organized but still nostalgically embracing in Red Turnip Theater‘s production of THIS IS OUR YOUTH. To say that it is homelike is underplaying the description. Director Topper Fabregas breaks the fourth wall as he graciously allows the audience to sit comfortably within and around Dennis’ apartment. In a way, Fabregas gives his audiences the same feel that the stowaway Warren feels whenever he’s in his friend’s flat. Here, we develop a sense of ease, confidence, and nostalgia.

Yes, that’s how embracing the entire set is. Reminds me of 33 VARIATIONS‘ (also by Red Turnip) dimensional universes in White Space. Only this time, it’s much more personal, convenient, and accessible.

Jef Flores’ Dennis offers a boisterous young man who thinks he is too old for his age (or maybe not). Flores took on a demanding role as young Warren’s Alpha, but he accepted the challenge and delivered with gripping intensity. Worthy to note is his 15-minute monologue which could be jumpy at one point and emotional at another. Between Dennis and Warren, the former takes the Alpha, and Flores shines. No doubt about that. With his dashing presence and fiery passion as the ill-tensed Dennis,  Flores captures our attention and makes us want to reach out even to such a complicated character.

And the ecstatic, love-blind, and hopeful Nicco Manalo as Warren neutralizes this bouncy duo. Manalo pars so amazingly with Flores’ passion and energy, albeit polarizes his character at strategic thematic distance to establish irony. Hence, completing a whole. Manalo is such fun to watch as the jolly Warren. His punchlines never fail, and his blocks are accordingly appropriate for someone still unsure of himself and his life. Warren sees all things as positively regal – except for his father, perhaps – and it is in his blissful final stages of innocence do we see how wonderfully freeing being young is (or was).

Then, there’s Cindy Lopez as Jessica. Caught in the middle of an already energetic duo act is Lopez’ passive presence, which, I think, pulls the notch a little lower. That’s the challenge when you take communion with highly experienced actors such as Flores and Manalo. See, there’s so much promise in this Lonergan character. In Jessica, we can explore the self-doubting young gal who could be an easy victim of temporary boredom and sudden infatuations. She is the alternative polar to the two battling male characters; the neutralizer and then the deal breaker. But Lopez’ rendition makes Jessica a passive foil, a menacing statue in the center of what could have been a engaging two-hour discourse. Lopez can do more. Really. Sayang kasi.

Fabregas directs so freely, yet congruently, dismissing some standard rules in stage blockings. Though some may consider it a downside, it works, nonetheless. His set’s comfortable hospitality brings the familiar sensation of “being right here, right now.” Mainly watching the back of actors during some crucial scenes could be a forgivable and refreshing consequence. It is its eccentricity and study that somewhat make it raw, believable, and piercing.

In its “nothingness,” Lonergan’s material tackles deeper themes of life’s early journeys. Warren, Dennis, and Jessica’s story may be a capsule of a day’s events, but it reflects the queer and screwed mind of the young. With it are the wrong decisions, the harsh languages, the sudden infatuations, and cruel – yet incredible – realizations. We understand them, of course. We’ve been there. When Jessica asks for Warren’s most favorite memorabilia (his grandfather’s cap) in exchange for the latter’s absolution, he realizes that there are more important things in life than one’s First Kiss. After getting the news that her one-night adventure with Warren reached her bestfriend, Jessica learned that a “quickie” is not worth one’s name. And as Dennis ultimately confronts the idea of death, he realizes, once and for all, that life is not forever.

These realizations – cruel as they may seem – mold and take us to the good side. As Lonergan focuses on the efforts of Dennis and Warren to return the cash to the latter’s father, he presents a biting narrative about a generation in its ironic struggle both to resist and to attain adulthood. It is through their realizations do they see how they can better tomorrow.

So as you leave Dennis’ flat, you know (that like you), they’ll be just fine.

Don’t miss this one.

source: JellicleBlog.com