Seeing Bugs Bunny play Liszt in Rhapsody Rabbit was a big moment for Jeremy Rafal. His Edinburgh Fringe show, The Boy from Bantay, follows his life, career and love of cartoons from his boyhood in a small town in the Philippines, via Hawaii, to becoming an international classical pianist and multi-hyphenate artist as an actor, musician, writer, director, and educator based in New York City.
A lot of the world’s problems could be solved by being kinder.
What was life like in your boyhood home in the Philippines?
Bantay is a small town. Our house was surrounded by rice fields. My family kept goats and pigs
in the backyard to sell at the local market. Beyond the rice fields were dense forests with
snakes, giant lizards, and wild pigs. It was tropical – hot or rainy. Yet music was everywhere. We
had the radio, sure, and American media trickled down to us, like a couple years late.
Everybody made their own music. The guitar was the go-to instrument. Adults would show up
at each other’s houses to serenade one another during special occasions. At parties, especially
big fiestas, the neighbourhood would gather to sing together. For anything more 'city' you had
to go to Vigan, a 20-minute tricycle ride away. The children’s choir there was a huge deal, and
my friends and I were all in it. I saw friends taking piano lessons too. In the first grade I jumped
in to join them.
What changed things for you - and why did the music from cartoons inspire you?
I’ve always been super aware of the music around me. One of my earliest memories was my
mom carrying me around while the Blue Danube Waltz by Johann Strauss played on the record
player. Apparently, I was so fascinated that I ended up wrecking half her record collection trying
to make them play music again.
When we finally got our first colour TV, seeing all those colourful images paired with music was
so exciting. Cartoons especially — I’d watch them over and over and become obsessed with the
soundtracks. I wanted to know what those pieces were and how to play them. Since we got
foreign shows way later in the Philippines, a lot of what I grew up watching was already old.
We had a lot of Looney Tunes and Tom & Jerry. Some of my favourite episodes were The Waltz
of the Geese with the Blue Danube Waltz, and Pigs in a Polka, which used Brahms’s Hungarian
Dances — I would laugh at the part where one of the pigs sticks out its tongue. Most had big
orchestral pieces, so I couldn’t recreate them exactly on one lone piano. But when I saw Bugs
Bunny in Rhapsody Rabbit playing Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, I was happy to finally play
— at least the easy parts – and have it sound like how it did on TV.
There was a family tragedy - how did this affect your family?
My brother died in an accident when I was 10. When you go through a family tragedy as a kid, it
hits you in a different way than when you’re an adult. I remember all the adults breaking down
and crying. I was aware why everyone was sad — I was sad too — but I thought the best way to
handle it was to not let it get to me. I thought I needed to be 'strong' for everyone else.
Mom told me to stay home from school as long as I needed. But I wanted to go, do well, and
keep moving forward. That’s what I did. I feel like I’ve been doing that for most of my adult life.
But it catches up with you. Always. Usually at the worst possible moment. Training to be a
concert pianist meant spending hours alone in a practice room, just me and the music. Most of
the time, that was enough. But you’re also alone with your thoughts. That’s when the stuff you
push away creeps back. One of my favourite quotes about grief is that it's like the ocean.
Sometimes the water is calm. Sometimes the waves are overwhelming. Trying to control the
waves is futile. All we can do is learn to swim with it.
Who helped you on your way to a career in classical music?
A lot of 'characters' helped shape me. One was my high school piano teacher in Hawaii. She
made me decide to pursue classical piano as a career — because she told me not to.
She understood my family history and immigrant background. She wanted me to choose
something more practical, to make money and help out my single mom. But I’m a Taurus. If
someone tells me I can’t do something, sometimes I go do the complete opposite.
Did you experience racism?
There’s always this issue — for some people — when they see someone from a different
culture or ethnicity dive into something outside of their own background. Here I am, from a
small town in the Philippines, someone who studied music written by a bunch of dead
European guys.
A friend once joked that “you have to be Italian to cook good Italian food”. Does that mean I
have to be German to play Brahms well? Most teachers and colleagues have been super
supportive. But there are people who believe in stereotypes. Take Asians — there’s that
stereotype that we’re machines, obsessed with technique, and end up playing like robots. So,
there’s this quiet, unspoken prejudice in the classical music world that Asians might be
technically perfect but musically empty.
I’ve felt that in some circles. Funny thing is, I don’t fit that stereotype. Sometimes I wish I did. I
have to work super hard to get things near-perfect technically, but I always play with my heart.
I like to think my musicality shines through. That’s probably why I’ve been more and more
drawn to acting, where you’re encouraged to let your emotions flow.
You wrote an opera about US race riots in which Filipino workers were persecuted - tell us something about that.
Standing Above Pajaro is an opera I created with San Francisco-based playwright Conrad
Panganiban. The story centres on the Watsonville riots of the 1930s, when violence erupted
against Filipino migrant workers. Filipino men were dancing with white women in a taxi dance
hall, and the white men didn’t like that. The violence went on for almost a week, with white
men roaming the town, beating up Filipino workers.
The story and libretto come from Conrad’s play. Musically, I drew from 20th-century American
opera composers like Jake Heggie and Gian Carlo Menotti, plus 1930s dance hall music, and of
course, Filipino genres like the kundiman — the traditional Filipino love song.
When did you decide to create the show you are bringing to the Fringe?
The idea was planted in my mind when a good friend of mine told me to go see her friend’s solo
show — it was about being an Asian actress in New York City. It left a lasting impression on me.
I was still thinking about it days later — I thought, “Hey, I didn’t think I had anything in common
with the actress, but I see some of myself in her!”
That’s what theatre should be: to see ourselves in someone else’s story. It makes us more
empathetic, more kind. Maybe I’m naive, but I believe a lot of the world’s problems could be
solved by being kinder.
Most people probably have no idea where Bantay is — most Filipinos have to look it up. But if
just one person connects with something from my show I have done my job.
If you could be any cartoon character who would it be?
I have a soft spot for shapeshifters. I’ve always wanted to be able to do a bunch of things — be
a scientist, athlete, historian, musician. Maybe that’s why I’m an actor now too – actors are
real-life shapeshifters. I’m biased toward the Wonder Twins. I would be Zan. I’m sure I could use
his powers way better than he did.
