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MANILA, Philippines — They say if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?
Fortunately, some art forms know how to laugh at themselves. "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 4: Oh Sh*t! It's Live Sa Cheter!" proves Philippine theater is one of them.
After taking jabs at independent cinema, commercial filmmaking and historical epics in its previous installments, the "Septic Tank" universe turns its eyes to the local theater scene, which has been enjoying one of its strongest moments in recent memory.
But rather than simply celebrating that resurgence, "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 4" turns the spotlight inward. Where is Philippine theater now? Where is it headed? Is this all that it could be?
The answers, however, weren't delivered through grand speeches, but by throwing audiences headfirst into two hours of hilarious theater-making chaos.
True to the Septic Tank formula
Fans of the franchise will immediately recognize the familiar Septic Tank formula. Eugene Domingo's hilariously self-important alter ego is once again convinced she's the artist destined to save an entire industry—this time, Philippine theater.
True to the franchise's formula, Eugene Domingo's hilariously self-important alter ego dreams up yet another artistic masterpiece, this time, an audacious staging of Aurelio Tolentino's nationalistic "Kahapon, Ngayon at Bukas" in the middle of the West Philippine Sea, convinced it will restore Philippine theater's relevance.
Along the way, the play gleefully pokes fun at everything from jukebox musicals and Manila-centric productions to the unmistakable quirks of companies like Repertory Philippines, Dulaang UP, PETA and more.
Among its funniest creations are the Ugenggengs, Eugene's ragtag troupe of recruits whose wildly different acting styles parody familiar theater traditions and schools of acting.
Even theatergoers themselves become part of the joke, with playful digs at treating productions as cultural status symbols, performative political correctness, and the way backstage drama inevitably spills onto Reddit and other online spaces.
The second act trades some of that relentless comedy for the messier process of putting the play together, allowing the satire to take center stage. The production spirals into familiar Septic Tank chaos: endless rewrites, clashing artistic visions, impossible expectations and inflated egos.
Every "small note" pushes the production further away from its original vision, each one justified in the name of making it more relevant, more accessible and, most importantly, more profitable in the face of theater's financial realities.
Comic chemistry
If there's one person born to exist in the Septic Tank universe, it's Eugene Domingo. This feels like her most comfortable role yet because it allows her to go completely uninhibited, and back to her theater roots.
In the play, Eugene is delightfully unhinged, leaning into every ounce of her delusion, vanity and relentless need for creative control. She commits to every absurd outburst with absolute confidence, never worrying about preserving an image or softening the joke. She commands the stage and even gleefully derails it.
Watching her live is an experience in itself. She’s chaotic, funny and fully present onstage, with a way of holding attention that feels effortless. Even in her most over-the-top moments, there’s a clear sense that she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Yet what makes this staging of Septic Tank even more lovable is that it never becomes the Eugene Domingo show. As Eugene's grand production of "Kahapon, Ngayon at Bukas" slowly unravels, she's surrounded by performers who are themselves pillars and practitioners of Philippine theater, each knowing exactly how to meet her energy without ever disappearing into her shadow.
JC Santos is one of the evening's biggest surprises, effortlessly matching Domingo's manic comedic rhythm with an irresistible charm that carries through every scene—and yes, all that dancing included. Andoy Ranay proves just as game, fully embracing the production's gleeful absurdity. Some of the show's easiest, dumbest and biggest laughs belong to him.
Rounding out the cast are theater icon Stella Cañete-Mendoza, PETA Plus Director Melvin Lee, filmmaker Marlon Rivera (the director of the Septic Tank films), artist-teacher Meann Espinosa and celebrated playwright Joshua Lim So—creatives whose contributions shaped and continue to shape the future of Philippine theater.
Knowing that these creatives were cast before the script was written only makes the production more impressive. The result is a show that feels uniquely written for the people performing it, adding another layer to its self-aware humor.
Watching artists of their stature willingly become the butt of the joke is not only hilarious, but also emblematic of what makes "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 4" so endearing: everyone is in on it, and everyone is willing to laugh at themselves.
It's the kind of comedy and casting that only comes from creatives who know Philippine theater intimately. Chris Martinez's script and Maribel Legarda's direction never mistake satire for cynicism. Every jab feels earned because it's rooted in genuine admiration for the art form and the people who keep it alive.
Visually, the production is just as accomplished. I've watched a number of productions at the PETA Theater Center over the years, but I don't think I've ever felt the stage this expansive.
From the choreography of its energetic production numbers to the ambitious inclined set and seamless design that transforms the space from a dining room to a ship in the middle of the sea, the production maximizes every inch of the venue. It's a reminder of just how much live theater can accomplish when imagination and craftsmanship take center stage.
Good sh*t of a show
The play's satire thrives on recognition: quick laughs, familiar references, and inside jokes. Some may wish it lingered longer on the questions it raises or offered a more definitive take on Philippine theater’s contradictions. But perhaps that’s the point. In the most literal sense—and not—"Septic Tank 4" has no tidy conclusions (pun intended).
It never claims to fix Philippine theater and instead embraces a scene that is always shifting, revising and unsettled. That’s what makes "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 4" a no-crap, all-craft love letter to Philippine theater.
With sharp wit, an electric ensemble, and a production bursting with energy, it roasts Philippine theater—mess, contradictions and all—while reminding us why it’s worth rooting for. After all, the best love letters aren’t built on flattery. They’re written for something imperfect, but worth growing with.
And for all the entertainment "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 4" brings, it delivers the simplest kind of satisfaction to its audience: like a really good poop session—it leaves you lighter than when you came in.
P.S. If it’s not too much of an ask, PETA, we hope there’s a way to bring this play outside Metro Manila so more people can experience it—and maybe even see it update and grow over time. This show deserves it!
"Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 4: Oh Sh*t! It's Live sa Cheter!" runs until August 16, 2026 at the PETA Theater Center in Quezon City. For tickets, visit here. — Photos courtesy of PETA
Editor's Note: Philstar.com is an official media partner of PETA for this production.
