REVIEW: ‘Delia D.’ is just delightful

REVIEW: ‘Delia D.’ is just delightful

Delia D. marks a milestone not just for its lead actor Phi Palmos—taking on this title role after more than a decade of theater work with evident readiness and earned gravitas—but for the visibility it grants a queer narrative in one of Manila’s most upscale venues. 

That a musical with a queer protagonist’s rise to stardom could be staged at Newport Performing Arts Theater and received as mainstream entertainment says a lot about the cultural landscape of Philippine theater. 

It’s so striking that Delia D. doesn’t position queerness as niche or subcultural. It doesn’t tiptoe around its protagonist’s identity—it simply presents Delia’s dreams, heartbreaks, and rise to fame as any other aspirational story. There’s something undeniably powerful in that kind of visibility. 

And yet, even with this cultural shift onstage, the show’s storytelling doesn’t quite match the depth of the moment it represents.

Packed to the brim

Delia D. is brimming with energy, color, and charisma. But beneath the glitter and spectacle is a show weighed down by an overloaded narrative and an emotional arc that never fully lands. Directed by Dexter M. Santos and written by Dolly Dulu, the musical follows Delia, an earnest and ambitious drag performer from Ozamis with dreams of becoming a live-singing superstar. Phi Palmos’ Delia is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed—less cutthroat diva, more “small-town girl in the big city”—and Act 1 has the audience rooting for her.

The plot zooms past: from her humble beginnings performing in drag bars, Delia enters and wins the glitzy televised singing competition Idols of the Galaxy. By Act 2, we jump a year ahead. Delia is now a megastar, drunk on her own hype and in need of a reality check. The emotional tonality shifts here—from aspirational underdog story to a cautionary tale about ego. The problem? We’re never given enough emotional real estate to feel the shift.

The show is packed to the brim: multiple characters, viral fame, queer romance, internal network politicking. So packed, in fact, that Act 1 feels like a nonstop overture of high-octane musical numbers and exposition. The result is a show that constantly tells us who Delia is without ever letting us know her. Her story is painted in shorthand—the drag bar bedsit, her provincial origin—but never truly examined. There’s no real scope for interiority, not even for Delia herself.

Making of an Idol

Phi Palmos holds the center confidently. As Delia, she brings a disarming mix of ambition, charm, and vulnerability that makes her easy to root for, so much so in the first act that it’s a challenge to simply accept the Delia D. in act 2 needs to be taken down a peg. Still, it’s a role that could easily fall into caricature, but Palmos keeps her Delia grounded, likable, and consistently watchable.

Other performances also shine in their own right. Mimi Marquez is magnetic and visually commanding as the siren-y network exec GVB. Floyd Tena, known for his dramatic roles, offers range and flair as the flamboyant judge Sir T. John Lapus is particularly memorable as Delia’s drag mom Mama Eme—funny, full of signature sass, but with a tough-love tenderness that adds heart. Omar Uddin, as Delia’s love interest Raymond, has a charming youthful appeal that made you wish there was more of him and more for him to work with. 

Too spectacular

Noteworthy performances aside, their character work is somewhat constrained by the script’s emotional flatness. Emotions are communicated more through shorthand and spectacle than nuance, with little space carved out for any of the show’s multitude of characters, especially Delia, to reflect, unravel, or grow with complexity.

Much of the show’s emotional weight is also left to the audience to fill in. Delia’s friendship-turned-rivalry with Kiki (Shaira Opsimar) is glossed over between acts, and her romance with Raymond lacks both build-up and payoff for anyone to latch onto, much less root for. 

There’s also something a bit muddled in how Delia’s relationship with drag and authenticity plays out. She is initially dragged by her own community for desiring to sing live rather than lip-synch, which hints at a tension between being a “real” singer versus a traditional drag performer. As the show goes on, where her emotional arc revolves around reclaiming her authenticity, that journey seems to come with her visually toning down and shedding the hyper-stylized flair of her persona. 

Sights and sounds

Musically, Jonathan Manalo’s contributions bring life and familiarity. His songs—many recognizable from noontime shows or public radios—energize the show. But they’re also indistinct in the narrative. Vince Lim’s arrangements sew them into the plot effectively, but few stand out. “Tara Tena” and “Gusto Ko Nang Bumitaw” are obvious earworms, but even the latter, reprised multiple times, isn’t given enough room to evolve in meaning. The use of “Kabataang Pinoy” in an Act 1 audition montage feels especially tacked on.

Stephen Viñas’ choreography leans into the showbiz vibe, evoking the kinetic energy of noontime variety shows. 

Visually, the show delivers. Lawyn Cruz’s set design cleverly contrasts the drag bar’s grungy intimacy with the televised competition’s glitz. The transformation of Delia’s costume in the second act’s opening number—her gown’s train revealing the ensemble—is a standout moment. GA Fallarme and Joyce Anne Garcia’s video projections add texture, particularly when visualizing Delia’s online fame and the Spotify-driven feud with Kiki. 

Mitoy Sta. Ana’s costumes, and the hair and makeup by Johann Gabriele Dela Fuente and Reynaldo Dela Cruz, are appropriate and expected given the drag and pageantry involved—though Kiki’s nerd-to-diva transformation (via glasses and pigtails) is a particularly uncompelling shorthand.

‘Just’ delightful

Ultimately, Delia D. raises questions it doesn’t answer. Its use of a televised singing contest isn’t a deeper metaphor—it’s a structural device to make the show big and legibly mainstream. The show’s insistence on a rags-to-riches spectacle, keeps it from exploring deeper, more rooted emotional territory. Instead, what we get is a lotto-ticket trajectory: fast fame, quick downfall, hasty redemption.

Delia D. has matter-of-fact inclusivity and representation that should not go unmentioned, as well as dazzling scale and ambition but untucking it from its visual accouterments, Delia D. doesn’t cut very deep. It’s a production to be marveled at and enjoyed—but one that leaves its own heart mostly untouched.

 

Tickets: Php 1000 – Php 3500
Show Dates: April 25 – June 8
Venue: Newport Performing Arts Theater, Newport City, Pasay
Running Time: approx 2 hours and 30 mins (w/ 15 min intermission)
Company: Full House Theater Company
Creatives: Jonathan Manalo (Songs), Dexter Santos (Director), Dolly Dulu (Playwright), Vince Lim (Musical Director and Arranger), Rody Vera (Dramaturg), Stephen Viñas (Choreographer), Lawyn Cruz (Scenic Designer), John Batalla (Lights Designer), GA Fallarme (Video Projection Designer), Joyce Anne Garcia (Video Projection Designer), Mitoy Sta. Ana (Costume Designer), Johann Gabriele Dela Fuente (Hair Designer), Reynaldo Dela Cruz (Make-up Designer), Justin Stasiw (Sound Designer), Arvy Dimaculangan (Sound Effects Designer)
Cast: Phi Palmos, Shaira Opsimar, Floyd Tena, Omar Uddin, Tex Ordoñez-De Leon, John Lapus, Joann Yap Co, Josh Cabiladas, Mimi Marquez, Miah Canton, Rapah Manalo, Chaye Mogg, Alfritz Blanche, Natasha Cabrera, Liway Perez, Mikaela Regis, Cheska Quimno, Mica Fajardo, Jannah Baniasia, Meg Ruiz, Cydel Gabutero, Julia Santiago, Abi Sulit, Khalil Tambio, Jules Dela Paz, Francis Gatmaytan, Ralph Olivia, Rofe Villarino, Vince Denzel Sarra, Ian Hermogenes, Sebastian Katigbak, Franco Ramos, Chesko Rodriguez, Aira Igarta, Almond Bolante, Stephen Viñas, Alyanna Mikaela Wijangco, Adrydeo Dela Cruz, Ring Antonio, Shaun Ocrisma