“Bring him home,” they chanted. At The Hague. On TikTok. In performances that made you laugh so hard, you almost forgot they were about actual people running for public office. Almost.
Before the first ballot was cast in this year’s midterm elections, Live A.I.D.S. 2025: A Laugh Story took aim at the circus of Philippine politics. Staged from May 9 to 11 at the IBG-KAL Theater in the University of the Philippines (UP) Diliman, the country’s longest-running comedy-musical-variety show was mounted by UP Samahan ng mga Mag-aaral sa Komunikasyon (SAMASKOM).
True to its form, Live A.I.D.S. once again proved that art does not just entertain: it confronts, challenges, and speaks with urgency.
Through sharp writing and bold performances, the show laid bare the contradictions of our political climate. Rather than merely blurring the line between absurdity and reality, it revealed how closely they intertwine.
The sharpness did not just reflect in the script—it moved, breathed and snapped into place with every raised eyebrow and perfectly timed pause. Group numbers, in particular, struck a rare balance: funny yet disciplined, loud yet controlled. Each bit was delivered with such precision that, beyond the laughter, you could sense the careful construction behind every joke and beat.
A clear crowd favorite was the Dahague’s Got Talent parody, set in The Hague, where various Dutertys—Duterte siblings—and a mystery challenger competed for the chance to “Bring him home.” With clear caricatures and smart references, the sketch nailed its satire without needing direct name-drops. Visually, it was just as striking: a high-energy dance number with bamboo poles for a fast-paced tinikling routine, enhanced by smoke effects, strobe lights, and cardboard cutouts, that transformed the stage into a surreal game-show spectacle.
That level of execution was not limited to this segment. Throughout the show, technical elements worked smoothly, from set transitions to well-timed lighting and sound cues, all of which helped keep the pacing tight and momentum steady. For a student-led production, the polish and control on display speak volumes about the team’s dedication to their creative vision.
Other sketches kept the energy going. One reimagined a high-profile figure presiding over a prison election, featuring three candidates vying for the title of “prison mayor” which had the audience roaring. Public figures, thinly veiled yet unmistakable, were transformed into exaggerated characters that entertained without losing their bite.
Even online personalities like Lumpia Queen Abi Marquez made an appearance as part of a segment spoofing TikTok, where viral social media influencers were repeatedly interrupted by over-the-top ads of politicians.
From ensemble sketches to absurd lip-sync showdowns, the show maintained its comedic control all throughout.
But perhaps the most impressive were the monologues that grounded the show in emotional resonance. Delivered with wit, clarity and control of tone, the solo segments shifted the room’s energy. In the middle of a large-scale comedy show, it is no small feat to hold an audience’s attention—but these monologues did more than that. They carved out a space for sincerity, demanding the kind of attention not with volume, but through conviction.
One standout segment reimagined Snow White as a guide for spotting red flags in political candidates, using fairy-tale tropes to expose how corruption, incompetence and the repeated return of discredited politicians have become normalized. By breaking down familiar campaign tactics and calling out the common “no-no’s” in candidates, it clearly shows how easy it is to overlook warning signs that are sometimes right in front of us.
Taking an unexpected but powerful turn, another segment utilized the viral toy Labubu to discuss mental health. Dressed in a life-sized costume, Labubu narrated his rise to fame while gradually peeling back layers of struggle: self-image issues, insecurity, impostor syndrome, burnout, and the constant pressure to stay relevant. The sketch struck a chord, especially with younger audiences, whose quiet battles were reflected in the story. It offered a moment of unforeseen vulnerability, showing that even the most “put-together” figures aren’t exempt from doubt and exhaustion.
A tribute to Filipino nurses also stood out, led by a performance from “Nurse Jan” that was equally hilarious and heartfelt. From chaotic ER scenes and absurd patient encounters to reflections on migration, underpaid labor and the emotional toll from care work, the monologue honored the strength and resilience of nurses without resorting to sentimentality. It used humor and raw honesty to offer a moment of recognition for the people who keep the country going, crisis after crisis.
Even the rise of artificial intelligence (AI) found its place in the show. In a cleverly staged face-off between a librarian and an AI assistant, the sketch questioned our overreliance on automation, the erosion of institutional trust and the fragility of information literacy. It was as thoughtful as it was funny—a piece that lingered long after the laughter faded.
The show ended with a final song and dance number: big, bold and unapologetically theatrical. But one line delivered earlier in the program by Jervi Wrightson, known to many as KaladKaren, resonated even more by the time the curtain fell:
“My humble story is just one of the many stories that were written in the 50-year history of UP SAMASKOM. Isang organisasyon na nagbibigay ng entablado para maikwento ang mga istorya na mahalaga para sa ating mga Pilipino. Stories that matter, that sometimes we make a laughing matter,” she said.
It was a thread that held everything together–a reminder that Live A.I.D.S. is not just comedy for comedy’s sake. It’s a space for truth-telling, reflection and holding the powerful accountable, with punchlines that land because they matter. And while the show drew its final applause, it left no doubt: there is still work to be done. Every sketch, every line, was part of a larger push to confront, question and make sense of the world we live in.
But beyond the grand production value, what stood out most was the sense of community that UP SAMASKOM has nurtured over five decades. Alumni and resident members return year after year, united by a shared passion for performance. That connection is felt in every scene. This is more than just a show; it’s a labor of love crafted not only to entertain, but to resonate. And that love is unmistakable.
That spirit is what has carried Live A.I.D.S. for 35 years, shaping its reputation not just as a comedy show, but as a cultural institution.
This year’s edition understood the moment: the exhaustion of election cycles, the normalization of scandals and the need to laugh without forgetting what is at stake.
In a political climate where distractions abound and where entertainment often exists to desensitize us to corruption, scandal, and injustice—Live A.I.D.S. chose the harder route. It leaned into discomfort, pushed its audience to think and did so with humor, heart and remarkable craft.
