The theater went dark.
A lone figure dressed in black stepped onto the stage and declared, “Let there be light.”
There was. Then came the music. Then came the laughter.
For the next three hours, Live A.I.D.S. 36 unfolded like a modern creation story. One built not from stars and seas but from punchlines, parody songs, political scandals and a crowd eager to laugh at truths it already knew by heart.
By the end of the night, it became clear that the production had not simply illuminated a stage. It had cast light on everything waiting beyond it.
From June 26 to 28, the UP Samahan ng mga Mag-aaral sa Komunikasyon (SAMASKOM) staged Live A.I.D.S. 36: Let There Be Laughs at the IBG-KAL Theater, University of the Philippines (UP) Diliman.
Under the direction of Deo Divinagracia with Waxee Galang leading the writing team, the annual comedy-musical-variety show once again found light in unlikely places, transforming headlines into humor without losing sight of the truths beneath them.
Waiting on every seat was a Laugh Stick, inspired by those carried by K-pop fans and bearing SAMASKOM’s iconic pink logo, ready to illuminate the theater alongside the performers.
By the time the curtain fell, the biggest laughs no longer felt like punchlines at all. They felt familiar. Satire, after all, rarely has to exaggerate when reality is already doing the work.
The monologues delivered some of the night’s sharpest blows, proving that a single performer could command an entire theater with little more than a spotlight and well-timed writing.
Opening the production was Joy Cambio, who claimed to be a seasoned talent manager and the former manager of the iconic 2000s girl group SexBomb — a hilarious play on real-life manager Joy Cancio.
She stood alone onstage with minimal props and staging, walking the audience through its defining elements — acting, improvisation, dance and singing — as if inducting them into the tradition themselves.
Each “lesson” blended with punchlines, celebrating the chaos, discipline and joy of mounting the annual production. Without elaborate visuals to lean on, the monologue lived and died by its writing and delivery, immediately establishing the show’s confidence in its material and setting the tone.
Portrayed by Galang, Michelle Lyn was easily one of the night’s standout performances. Framed as a playful riff on Michelin stars, the monologue quickly transformed into a relentless roast of the Villar family’s controversies, from alleged land grabbing to Villar City, Vista Mall and PrimeWater.
The audience was often already laughing before Galang even reached the punchline, anticipating exactly where each setup was headed. Rather than hurting the joke, that familiarity became its greatest strength, turning every reference into a shared inside joke between the performers and the audience.
The production shifted gears with Born to be Wild, which tackled environmental destruction through the story of the critically endangered bird, the Philippine bulbul. By anchoring larger issues such as Dolomite Beach, reclamation projects and the displacement of coastal communities to a single native bird, the monologue landed with a surprising emotional weight.
Closing the monologue set were the Malita Gays, who balanced camp humor with sincerity as they explored the realities of coming out. They were later joined onstage by the “18 Marinas” — a nod to the 18 self-proclaimed former Marines who claimed they acted as “bagmen” that delivered billions in flood-control kickbacks to top government officials.
The performance never allowed either its comedy or its message to overshadow the other, proving that vulnerability could coexist with satire.
If the monologues landed the punches, the ensemble sketches amplified them through sheer scale.
The clear crowd favorite was Joyride, which transformed everyday Filipino struggles into a full-fledged P-pop comeback stage. Dressed in coordinated idol-inspired outfits, the fictional girl group Joyride performed polished choreography opposite rival act LB19, as they invited the audience to sing along with flashed lyrics in karaoke style.
The result felt less like watching a stage play and more like attending a P-pop showcase, making songs about soaring oil prices, rising electricity bills and the ripple effects of Israel’s aggression on Iran. The catchier the chorus became, the harder its social commentary landed.
That same blend of comedy and criticism carried through the remaining ensemble pieces. Diliman Darlings drew much of its humor from its immediacy, with jokes that felt lifted straight from recent Senate hearings and political headlines. Its biggest laugh came from one deceptively simple question.
“UP, produkto mo ba talaga sila?”
Meanwhile, Hitad Rivalry broadened the show’s reach by pulling from different corners of Philippine pop culture. From “Bong Reveal” to “Alex Owala,” the sketch packed in references that resonated across generations, with exaggerated costumes and performances making each caricature instantly recognizable even before a line was spoken.
Bulacan rounded out the ensemble by shifting the spotlight away from national politics and toward corruption at the local level, reinforcing that the country’s political problems do not begin and end in Congress.
The production’s true strength lay in its restraint. By swapping elaborate set pieces for movable props and minimalist staging, Live A.I.D.S. 36 kept transitions brisk and left the spotlight exactly where it belonged: on the performances.
The writing never paused to spell out its satire, confidently trusting the audience to uncover the truths tucked beneath the laughter.
But the truth is, we don’t need a comedy show to tell us that reality is bleak — we already live it. The real value of Live A.I.D.S. 36 isn’t that it simply lists our anxieties, but it transforms them into collective catharsis.
Satire may not solve political problems, but it refuses to let them fade quietly into the background. By forcing us to laugh at the very things that frustrate and overwhelm us, the show strips power away from the absurdities of the world outside the theater.
For a moment, cynicism gives way to connection, replacing the isolation of private frustration with a room full of people recognizing the same truths. If nothing else, it reminds us that indifference is never the only response available.
In a year when reality often feels more unbelievable than satire, Let There Be Laughs reminds us why comedy still matters.
Sometimes, the loudest way to call out injustice can be through a theater full of people laughing at the same thing and knowing why.
