Ballet Philippines’ ‘Paglalakbay’ brings ancient migration story to life

Before there were maps, there was muscle memory.

In Paglalakbay: The Journey of the Sea People, Ballet Philippines strips history down to its most elemental form: movement. Premiering April 10 to 12 at The Theatre at Solaire, the production transforms the Austronesian migration from a distant narrative into something immediate, physical, and deeply felt.

At its core, the ballet asks a deceptively simple question: What does it mean to remember something your body has never been taught?

For choreographer Mikhail “Misha” Martynyuk, the answer began not in a studio, but in Batanes, the northernmost and smallest province in the Philippines. 

“The journey itself is a drama of space,” he tells Rappler. “Batanes is wind, rocks, and ocean. The choreography had to come from that.”

Rather than imposing a classical structure onto the story, Martynyuk allowed the environment to dictate movement. Dancers lean forward as if resisting wind, their weight grounded as though negotiating uneven terrain. Arms extend not for flourish, but for balance, echoing bodies navigating uncertainty.

“This is not simply a premiere,” he says. “It’s a large-scale artistic statement… where classical technique meets Filipino cultural identity.”

That identity, however, is not presented as fixed. It shifts, travels, and reforms, just as the Austronesian people once did.

Movement as language

The narrative, written by librettist Sheree Chua, moves fluidly between the epic and the intimate. While the ballet traces the migration of Austronesian-speaking people — widely believed to have moved from Taiwan through Batanes and across Southeast Asia and the Pacific — it is also deeply personal.

“The story begins with a question,” Chua says. “How do you tell the story of people whose history is written in the water and sea and land?”

For her, the answer lies in movement itself. Migration, she notes, is not just a historical event but a lived condition. “Dance became the natural language for the story. Migration itself is movement: forward, certain, courageous.”

Chua shares that her interpretation is shaped by her own family history. Her mother, Flora, becomes both inspiration and metaphor — a figure whose life, like many Filipinos, has been defined by journeys across geographies and generations.

“Home is never fixed,” Chua says “It travels with us. It lives in memory, in language, and in family.”

This duality — between departure and return, movement and stillness — anchors the ballet’s emotional core. It is not just about those who leave, but also those who choose to stay.

The production’s visual language extends this philosophy. Production designer Leeroy New, alongside assistant Arvie Santos, approached Batanes not as a backdrop, but as a collaborator. Their research was immersive, even disorienting at times. 

Chua says New got lost for hours in Itbayat while searching for pre-colonial structures. Itbayat is a municipality and the largest island in Batanes.

What emerged is a stage world built from natural textures: cogon, reed, raffia. These materials are not static; they move, breathe, and respond to the dancers. Costumes ripple with each step, creating the illusion that bodies and landscape are inseparable.

This commitment to authenticity extends beyond aesthetics. Cultural consultant Professor Edwin Valientes, an expert in Batanes archaeology, worked closely with the team to ensure historical and cultural integrity. 

“Batanes is one of the first places where Austronesian-speaking populations settled,” he notes. “This journey shaped not just the Philippines, but much of Oceania.”

Migration, then and now

Yet the ballet avoids becoming didactic. Instead, it operates in a space between fact and feeling; what Martynyuk describes as “a new myth.” The past is not reconstructed; it is reimagined through the lens of contemporary Filipino identity.

That identity was, in many ways, rediscovered during Ballet Philippines’ 2024 outreach program in Batanes. What began as a teaching initiative quickly became an exchange.

“We went there to teach,” BP president Kathleen Liechtenstein says at a press conference. “But they taught us back.”

More than 200 children participated, many encountering ballet for the first time. Some arrived without proper attire; others brought with them stories, dances, and chants passed down through generations. One moment, in particular, stayed with Liechtenstein — a child moved to tears by the experience.

“That’s when we realized,” she says, “this heritage has to be on stage.”

The outreach became the seed for Paglalakbay, grounding the production not just in research, but in lived community. Echoes of that encounter appear throughout the ballet: in its gestures, its rhythms, and its sense of collective memory.

The score, composed by Ronald Vincenzo Khaw de Leon, further deepens this immersion. Known for his work in video game music, De Leon brings a cinematic sensibility to the piece, blending traditional influences with contemporary composition. The result is a soundscape that feels both ancient and immediate.

Together, choreography, music, and design create a work that resists linear storytelling. Instead, it unfolds like a tide, advancing, receding, and carrying fragments of memory with it.

What makes Paglalakbay particularly resonant today is its reflection of modern Filipino life. The narrative of migration is not confined to prehistory; it continues in the experiences of overseas workers, diaspora communities, and families navigating distance.

“The journey of the sea people continues with all of us,” Chua says.

This continuity is perhaps the ballet’s most powerful idea: that movement is not just something we do, but something we inherit.

As the finale of Ballet Philippines’ 56th season, the production marks a turning point for the company. It signals a commitment to placing Filipino stories at the center of the classical stage — not as adaptations, but as original works with global relevance.

“This brings together everything the company stands for today,” Martynyuk says. “Tradition and modern sensibility stepping confidently onto the international stage.”

That confidence will soon be tested beyond Manila, with a European tour scheduled in May. But Paglalakbay does not seek validation from outside. Its strength lies in its rootedness, in its ability to draw from local histories while speaking to universal themes.

In the end, the ballet does not offer a conclusion.

There is no final arrival, no fixed destination. Instead, it leaves audiences with a sense of ongoing motion, a reminder that history is not something behind us, but something we continue to carry; because long before we learned to write our stories, we learned to move them forward. – Rappler.com

Jinji Abaño is a business writer and a lover of the arts. When she is not monitoring the stock market or covering summits, she reads, attends ballet classes or practices some of her old piano pieces.