On a rain-slick September night, Rockwell Center’s brand-new Proscenium Theater opened not with a whisper, but with gunfire. The inaugural show-9 Works Theatrical’s staging of The Bodyguard The Musical-began with a flash and the crack of a gunshot, immediately pulling the audience into the world of danger, fame, and love that defines the story.
The Proscenium Theater makes its intent clear the moment you step inside. Its tiered seating curves upward in an elegant rise, ensuring visibility. Unlike many other theaters where rear seats relegate you to staring at the back of the audience’s heads, here you can follow the on-stage action no matter where you are. It is a theater built to amplify moments like that opening gunshot: immediate, visceral, and impossible to ignore.
Based on the 1992 film starring Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner in their breakout roles, The Bodyguard The Musical follows rising star singer Rachel Marron as she grapples with both the dazzling demands of her newfound fame and the lurking threat of a dangerous stalker. To protect her, Frank Farmer, a former Secret Service agent-turned-bodyguard, is hired. What begins as a tense professional arrangement grows into a complex relationship, as Rachel and Frank navigate trust, vulnerability, and romance.
Grammy-nominated artist and West End sensation Christine Allado as the leading lady sparkles on stage. Her riveting performance entirely embodies both sides of the role, whether it be the global superstar or the woman caught between love and fear. Her crystalline voice was the production’s centerpiece, bringing both strength and vulnerability to Whitney Houston’s powerhouse repertoire.
Opposite Allado was Matt Blaker, the British West End actor cast as Frank Farmer. With roles as Raoul in The Phantom of the Opera and Billy Flynn in Chicago, Blaker brought a measured, stoic restraint to the role. His Frank was all brooding restraint, providing a dramatic counterweight to Allado’s freedom-loving Rachel.
What begins as a tense professional arrangement grows into a complex relationship to the tune of Whitney Houston’s legendary hits like ‘I Have Nothing,’ ‘Run to You,’ and ‘I Will Always Love You’.
One of the most striking technical choices was the use of separated stages paired with video projections. Frequently, actors performed on one plane while music video-style visuals, pre-recorded sequences, or stylized backdrops played on another. Initially impressive, this overused framing device lost its novelty and became a crutch.
The power of theater as a medium lies in immediacy: proximity, presence, and intimacy. Too often, the production leaned on effects better suited for film, neglecting the very intimacy that makes live theater distinct.
And yet, when the production leaned on stagecraft and trusted the medium, it soared. For instance, the karaoke bar scene in Act 1 used a physical bar set and the energy of multiple ensemble actors to make the world feel lived-in and alive. Ensemble actors filled the space with the messy energy of a night out-laughing, bantering, spilling drinks, and singing off-key. Rachel and Frank’s relationship softened here, in a moment that relied not on projection screens but on on-stage chemistry and atmospheric design.
Act 2 started strong with the most fully realized use of the stage all evening. The stage was stripped down, featuring only a bed as its central prop. The silence was heavy, the lighting tightly focused. That simplicity funneled every ounce of attention to the characters onstage, their proximity, their dialogue, and their emotions. Restraint in setting the scene drew the audience into the world closer than any projection could.
These scenes, more than any technical flourish, reminded the audience why theater endures.
The production’s devotion to the 1992 film was both its strength and its Achilles’ heel. The music-the late, great Whitney Houston’s canon-is both the production’s gift and burden. While audiences were thrilled by the live renditions of iconic songs, their placement in the story often felt disjointed. Instead of emerging naturally from character and circumstance, numbers occasionally halted the narrative, resembling a greatest-hits concert stitched onto a plot.
Costume design, however, was a consistently strong department. Not only was the fashion period appropriate, but it feels like something taken right out of a superstar singer’s wardrobe. Rachel’s many performance ensembles are as glamorous as the life she leads, and even her ‘off-duty’ everyday attire marks her as someone who could never quite blend into the crowd.
Lighting was less successful. In ensemble-heavy moments, the absence of clear focal cues leaves you unsure where to look. Costumes were sometimes the only clue as to who the eye should land on. Bright spotlights during concert scenes often shone directly into the audience, creating discomfort and broken focus.
What the show makes very clear is that it loves the original Bodyguard film-its music, its moments, its aura. That love is both a strength and a limitation. While audiences relished hearing Houston’s timeless songs, the show risked losing sight of the very qualities that could have set it apart from the film as a theatrical production in its own right.
As the very first production to christen the Proscenium Theater, The Bodyguard The Musical was bold and ambitious. It was neither flawless nor hollow: at its core, it offered moments of brilliance-especially when it embraced theater’s unique strengths rather than imitating cinema.
Perhaps that is fitting for a debut: a promise for what this new stage could grow into. If the Proscenium’s next productions build on these lessons, this new venue could quickly become a space where Filipino audiences experience productions that not only dazzle but also truly move.