There are times when you are presented with a show that seems so grand that it blows you away. Then, upon dissecting it later will you realize that all you’ve been given is a bland, predictable core coated with air-filled fluff. It’s like eating a slice of cake that seemed so delectable, only to realize that most of its value was in the intricately colored and decorated icing.
Dani Girl has a strong tendency to be pure fluff. After all, its core is not that different from almost every other cancer story out there. Somebody’s presented with the terrible news, the protagonist tries to struggle against the new reality, he/she attempts to recapture some form of normalcy, and when the journey hits a cul-de-sac, the inevitable resolution and acceptance follows. We’ve read that formula in a number of Chicken Soup for the Soul articles and we’ve seen that in a number of soppy melodramatic films. But what separates Dani Girl apart from the rest of the genre is the light-hearted and tender perspective. The formula is given depth with its refreshing point of introspection and the playful interpretation of the protagonist’s imagination.
With book and lyrics by Christopher Dimond and music by Michael Kooman, Dani Girl follows 9-year-old Dani Lyons as she struggles to come into terms with the recurrence of her cancer. Alongside her teddy bear Mr. Fritz, her nerdy hospital roommate Marty, and guardian angel Raph, Dani deals with the horrors of her reality through their adventures in her imaginary universe. Dimond reportedly took inspiration for Dani Girl following his cousin’s battle with cancer. This makes the story largely inclined towards exposition; it merely tries to showcase how a child copes with the curses of the disease. But much respect has to be given over the material’s rich witticism and sincere tenderness. It didn’t feel contrived nor patronizing; it retained the playfulness of a child’s imagination without any form of disservice to the seriousness of the condition.
On that note, the material warrants to be handled with profound sensitivity to balance the energy and fragility within the story.The Sandbox Collective does that in its debut offer as director Toff de Venecia seems to understand the contrasting elements that give the show its uniqueness. From the direction of the cast, the lights, and set design, among others, de Venecia gives considerable justice to the material with his competent direction.
Speaking of the cast, headlining the show is Rebecca Coates in the titular role of Dani. Coates carries the show with confidence and awareness with her immeasurable enthusiasm at the beginning and ethereal glow at the end. Playing Dani’s reluctant confidante and partner in crime is Luigi Quesada as the geeky hospital roommate Marty. Luigi’s performance is commendable, although what’s notable is his attentiveness. On the show that I saw, Coates’ microphone was jammed and realizing that the lead was about to sing a big song without audio support, Quesada improvised in his spacing and movements such that his microphone can capture Coates’ voice. Performing on stage requires teamwork. One can deliver his lines with emotion and passion, but to make an assist to another performer helps the entire production stay afloat, despite any technical difficulties. Shiela Valderrama; on the other hand, keeps the narrative grounded well as she plays Dani’s mother with immense maternal believability. One has to watch out for her heartbreaking rendition of The Sun Still Rose. While the aforementioned actors breathed life into their respective characters with ardor and passion, one cast member undeniably stood out: Reb Atadero’s portrayal of Raph, Dani’s ever-reliable guardian angel. Atadero practically stole the show with his comic timing and energy as he assumed more than ten highly varied personas – from a game show host, French hairdresser, to a rapping Mexican drug dealer (there are other notable roles that he played, but to share some would probably give away certain plot points in the story).
Furthermore, beyond the performance and the material, other elements of the show effectively complemented the tone of the narrative. The show’s largely upbeat music and mood-setting lights laid out the mood of the story’s important plot points. The set design captures the blandness and claustrophobia of a hospital room while the lights and the props color the stage as it assumes Dani’s imaginary universe.
In the end, Sandbox Collective’s staging of Dani Girl manages to effectively balance the wit and depth of the subject matter and its protagonist sans disservice to the realities of the condition. It can be a difficult feat; especially since it’s easy and convenient to get caught up and be more intense on one end of the warranted emotional spectrum. Ultimately, Dani Girl provides the audience with the platform to witness how a child copes, because that is important to see sometimes. We often forget that children are capable of being strong; we tend to overprotect. We fail to see that they’re just like everyone else in terms of dealing with pain, joy, and hope – albeit in a different approach. They’re just like adults; they fear, panic and surrender. And all we have to do is hold their hand, guide them, and help them pull through.
