Cebu City’s HIV scare is often framed in ways that push sexual and gender minorities into the margins. Statistics are recited with clinical distance, but numbers alone cannot shape the full truth.
So in the days leading up to World AIDS Day on Dec. 1, 2025, a musical stepped into that breach. Staged on Nov. 29 and 30, it arrived bright, funny and determined to say what headlines often cannot.
“Hook Up The Musical,” the latest work of Jude Gitamondoc, follows Tim, a fresh graduate threading his way through the digital maze of queer courtship. His search—messy, earnest and painfully familiar — becomes a map of today’s queer landscape, with its hazards, absurdities and tender joys. Beneath the flirtations and fumbles, the show never loses sight of its central purpose: to articulate a truth already present in the city’s bloodstream but rarely given a voice.
And where better to stage that counter-narrative than the Cebu Provincial Capitol — advocacy meeting the province’s seat of power, vulnerability stepping into the halls of institution.
“That is why I was hell-bent on staging the show on World AIDS Day,” Gitamondoc wrote on Facebook. “My resources were scarce. I encountered setbacks and unforeseen costs. And I knew it wouldn’t be an easy sell… People need a proof of concept. They need to see the material is good.”
Cebuanos are now asking for a rerun. Here’s why:
The many faces of Tim
Everyone has been Tim at some point — unprepared for the modern choreography of digital desire, expecting too much, learning too little and being disappointed again and again.
“Hook Up” turns that experience into a kaleidoscope of vignettes, each one camp-leaning and theatrical. The show swings from burlesque to near-gospel, exposing the vulnerability and humor in queer dating while refusing to flatten it into stereotype. It’s textured, playful and insistently alive.
A question that lingers
“Would you hold the hand of a boy with HIV?”
It is a simple line, but it cleaves through the air. It distills the shame and guilt many people living with HIV continue to face — silently, persistently.
During the 10-minute intermission, Atty. Lord Lawrence Latonio, president of AIDvocates, reminded the audience that advocacy cannot end at awareness.
“This isn’t only about health rights,” he said. “We are also fighting for legal rights. The real question is: What can I do to be part of the advocacy?”
When social media thinks it is god
The musical turns its gaze toward the unforgiving arena of social media. Have you ever taken part in exposing someone whose life was never yours to reveal?
Online, judgment is immediate. With a single click, anyone can become judge, witness and executioner. The show forces you to reconsider the small violences you’ve scrolled past or added to.
The emotional whiplash — of the best kind
“Hook Up” makes you laugh, tense up and, unexpectedly, cry.
You laugh at the misaligned intentions during hookups. You fear the emptiness of social media, swallowing anyone who steps into its pit. And you cry when a bride-to-be confronts her fiancé’s dating history while holding her wedding dress. It’s melodrama, yes, but also truth softened by music.
Music that sticks to your bones
The songwriting is deceptively good—built for that walk-home LSS. The melodies linger; the choreography resurfaces when you least expect it.
The musical also raises a quiet question: Why does an island with so much theatrical talent still retreat into its comfort zone instead of giving homegrown artists the stages they deserve?
A cast and crew that carry the city
Shim Dagatan (Tim) and Jan Echavarria (IamAnonymous) create a chemistry that is both electric and safe. Alem Garcia anchors the comedy with candid charm. Euvic Ferrer delivers clean vocals and textured acting. Joan Marie’s brief appearance is a small heartbreak suspended in song. Joer Gallur’s showgirl moment is a sharp reminder that drag is theater.
Choreographer Jaggy Gomez injects ecstatic precision into each scene, while the homegrown staff keep the production running with a devotion rarely seen in an industry still struggling for footing.
Cebu doesn’t yet have a fully thriving theater economy. As Gitamondoc noted, many artists work for community rates far below their professional fees. But what Cebu does have is a passionate, dedicated theater community — one that shows up and gives everything regardless.