Blog

At every show under the tent, the feathered dancers take the floor, the whole tent leans in, and I speak the first words of the night: “Welcome to the EuroXtreme Circus!”

That is my job in EuroXtreme Circus ¡Carnavale! at Zaldivar Field, General Santos City: I open the show. It sounds simple. One line. But that line has to carry a lot. Here is what opening a show under a tent asks of an actor.

1. You set the energy for everybody

The first voice the audience hears tells them what kind of night this is going to be. If I come out half-awake, the tent feels it. If I come out with everything, the tent feels that too.

So I treat the first line like the most important line of the night, because for the audience, it is.

2. A tent is not a theatre

I’ve stood on a lot of stages. A circus tent is its own animal. The air is different. The crowd is closer. And you can feel when a whole field of people is holding its breath at the same time.

Big, open spaces change everything. The space is bigger, the sound travels differently, the light keeps moving. You have to fill a lot more air with your voice and your body. I learned that on an outdoor stage with mountains behind it, which I wrote about in the last days before opening night.

3. The voice is the instrument, so protect it

Opening a show is vocal work, night after night. Planes are dry, air-con is drier, and everyone around you wants to talk. I warm up even when the schedule says there is no time. That habit has followed me from zarzuela stages in Spain to this tent in Gensan.

4. The body has to show up too

Your body is your instrument. The audience reads you before you say a word: how you stand, how you walk in, where you look.

That is one reason I keep training. My split is in my bodybuilding workout. Consistency is the whole game, in the gym and on stage.

5. The face has to read from far away

Under coloured lights, and with the audience at a different distance every venue, makeup reads differently. What looks good in the mirror can disappear in the tent. My theatrical makeup guide covers the basics.

6. Calm is a skill

Live shows move. Things change at the last minute. What saves you is what you have practised. Calm under pressure is not magic. It is reps.

7. Respect the people around you

The opening number is not about me. The dancers, the artists, the crew: we are all building the same moment. My part is to welcome the audience into it. Do it with puso, and get out of the way.

Come and see it

EuroXtreme Circus ¡Carnavale! by Art Box Entertainment is at Zaldivar Field, General Santos City, until November 22, 2026. Shows run Tuesday to Sunday. No shows on Mondays. Get tickets at artboxentertainment.com, the venue ticket office, or the SM City General Santos ticket booth. Check showtimes and prices with Art Box directly.

Watch my opening and read how it all started in EuroXtreme Circus General Santos: I’m Under the Tent.

People ask me how I learn a role when I’m living out of a suitcase. Short answer: the same way I learn it at home. Just with less sleep and more airports.

I’ve been performing since 1998, in Spain, in China, in Holland and Portugal, and in the Philippines since 2011. Here is the method that keeps working for me.

1. Build it at home, test it in the room

People think the learning happens in the rehearsal room. A lot of it happens at the kitchen table, alone, with the script in your hand.

The room is where you test it. Home is where you build it. On the road, “home” is a hotel desk or the seat in the van, but the rule is the same. I showed what that looked like before one out-of-town opening in Off the Plane, Into Rehearsal.

2. Small things, every single day

When I worked on my character in Guadalupe the musical, I did not wait for rehearsal. At home, in the car, before sleeping. A look, a pause, the way a line lands.

That is still how I do it. Small things, daily. Talent gets you into the room. Daily work keeps you there. The full story is in The Toughest Director I Ever Had.

3. Do your homework on the character

Before I meet the role in a rehearsal room, I want to know who I’m playing, who is directing and what story we are telling. I wrote the basics in ways to prepare for performing auditions: research the character, know your lines, and record yourself so you can see what the audience will see.

4. Use your own memory

When a director asks for a specific situation, I look for a real moment from my own past that felt similar, and I play from there. That is acting 101, but under pressure people forget it. On the road, with new people and a new stage every week, it keeps me honest.

5. Pack your basics

On tour the stage changes. New wings, new floor, new lights, new acoustics. What travels with you is your basics: your warm-up, your voice, your lines, your marks, your face.

Even your makeup changes with the venue, because coloured lights and the distance to the audience change how it reads. I break that down in my theatrical makeup guide. And I keep practising my singing between cities with a very cheap setup, the one in my home recording studio post.

If the basics live in your body, a new stage is an adventure. If they don’t, it is a panic attack with costumes.

6. Choose your voices

When the director is not around, a lot of people suddenly have opinions about your role. Listen to your director. Respect your fellow actors. But don’t rebuild your character every time someone has a new idea. Commit to a direction and go deep.

7. Expect the plan to change

Airport straight to rehearsal. Rain in the “sunny” place. Rehearsing while having dinner. On the road, the schedule is a suggestion.

Stay flexible, and save your energy for the stage. Calm under pressure is not magic. It is reps.

Language is part of the role

One more. I did zarzuela in Spanish, Peter Pan in English in Spain, and now I work in Taglish every day. Each language opens a different door to a character. If you work on the road, collect them.

More about the suitcase side of the job is in Life on Tour: What 28 Years on the Road Taught Me.

How do you learn your lines? Kitchen table, shower, or the jeepney? Tell me in the comments.

Another uniform. You saw that coming.

In the feature film Sisa, directed by Jun Robles Lana, I play Commander Harrison.

If you read my post on why I always get cast as the priest or the soldier, you know the pattern. Whenever there is a historical film, my name pops up. This time the name on the call sheet was Commander Harrison.

Opening week, on camera

I filmed the opening week of the film for my vlog. Such preparation and promotional events for this film. Loved it all!

People see the poster. Opening week is also preparation, promotional events and a lot of showing up. I wanted you to see that side too.

Where Sisa sits in my work

Sisa is part of my screen work in the Philippines, next to GomBurZa, Heneral Luna and Lav Diaz’s Hele sa Hiwagang Hapis. You can see every credit, film by film, on my Work History page.

I’m not going to tell you the story of the film here. Watch it, and then come back and tell me what you thought.

A small thing I keep doing

Every officer I play is a new man, even when the uniform looks familiar. Same face, new person. That is the job, and I still love it.

More vlogs from rehearsals, film openings and my everyday life as an actor are on my Video page. And if you are new here, start with my story.

Mga kaibigan, week two. I’m still under the big tent, and I’m still loving it.

I’m performing in EuroXtreme Circus ¡Carnavale! by Art Box Entertainment at Zaldivar Field in General Santos City, until November 22, 2026. If you have not come yet, this is your sign.

The quick facts

• Show: EuroXtreme Circus ¡Carnavale! by Art Box Entertainment
• Where: Zaldivar Field, General Santos City
• Until: November 22, 2026
• Show days: Tuesday to Sunday. No shows on Mondays.

Where to get tickets

• Online at artboxentertainment.com
• At the ticket office at the venue, Zaldivar Field
• At the ticket booth in SM City General Santos

I’m not going to guess showtimes or prices on my blog. Get them straight from Art Box, then get yourself under the tent.

Why Monday is sacred

No circus shows on Mondays. Ever. Monday is our rest day.

So if you are planning a family night, plan it from Tuesday to Sunday. And if you see me walking around Gensan on a Monday looking very relaxed, now you know why.

What a tent does to a crowd

I have the honor of opening the show. I told you about that moment in EuroXtreme Circus General Santos: I’m Under the Tent, with the video of my opening.

A tent is its own animal. The air is different. The crowd is closer. And you can feel when a whole field of people is holding its breath at the same time. You do not get that from a screen. You get it from a seat.

Bring everybody

Live shows need live people. A full tent changes everything for the people performing inside it.

So bring the barkada. Bring the family. Bring your lola who says she is too old for the circus. Nobody is too old for the circus.

Filipino audiences are the warmest and loudest crowds I know. General Santos, prove me right. See you under the tent.

When I sat down with Broccoli TV and we talked about my career, I said it plainly: I always play the priest or the military. Whenever there are historical films, my name pops up.

And then I added the honest part: “If they get me or not, that’s another question.”

That is typecasting in one sentence. So let me show you what it looks like from inside the collar and the uniform.

The collar

Look at my Work History and count the priests. I did, and I laughed.

• Padre Tressera in GomBurZa, directed by Pepe Diokno.
• Padre Camorra in Lav Diaz’s Hele sa Hiwagang Hapis.
• A Spanish friar in The Agony and Fury of Hermano Puli.
• Fray Santiago in Amor y Muerte.
• A Catholic priest in Ang Sugo: Felix Manalo, and a deputy priest cameo in Bonifacio: Ang Unang Pangulo.

On stage it is the same story. I played Padre San Vitores in Pedro Calungsod the musical on a national tour. Back then I wrote that I was probably cast because of the looks, my accent and my performing skills. In that order. Haha.

The uniform

Then there are the soldiers, the officers and the men in charge.

• Tenyente Mateo Flores in the GMA series Katipunan. I broke him down in this old post.
• Lieutenant Jose in Ang Supremo.
• Commander Harrison in Sisa, directed by Jun Robles Lana.
• Spanish General Ramon Blanco in Miong for Repertory Philippines, and General MacArthur in Sindak 1941.
• The Gobernador Heneral in I Love You Since 1892.

Why my name pops up

It is not a mystery. I have a Spanish face, a Spanish accent and a Filipino heart. Philippine history has a lot of Spain in it, so when a production needs a friar, a governor or an officer from that time, somebody remembers me.

When I arrived in Manila, people teased my accent. Today that same accent helps get me cast as a Spanish priest. Turn the thing they tease you about into a tool. That is one of my favourite lessons, and I wrote more about it in Life on Tour.

Being typecast is not the same as being booked

Here is the part people miss. My name popping up only gets me into the conversation. “If they get me or not, that’s another question.”

So I prepare like I could lose it, because I could. I research the character and the director before the room, like I explain in ways to prepare for performing auditions. I show up already looking the part, so the director can imagine me. I learned how much the small things matter in what it really takes to get cast in a commercial.

And once I have the part, I do the work daily, even when nobody is watching. Tita Baby taught me that the hard way, in The Toughest Director I Ever Had.

Not every role wears a collar

To be fair to the casting directors, they also let me out of the cassock sometimes. I was Mr. Clarke in Bad Genius, Ahmed Al Juffali in Can’t Buy Me Love and Headmaster Mendoza in He’s Into Her.

I’m proud of every priest and every soldier. Each one is a different man, with a different voice, in a different moment of our history. Same face, new person. That is the job.

Watch the interview

The full Broccoli TV conversation is on my Video page, together with my behind-the-scenes vlogs.

Now tell me in the comments: which of my priests or soldiers did you see first?

If you follow me, you know I love the gym. I’ve even shared my bodybuilding workout here on the blog. One year I did 315 push-ups in a day, just to see if I could.

But nothing humbles you like Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.

In the gym, the weights don’t fight back. On the mats, the problem is a human being who is actively trying to stop you. And that’s exactly why I keep coming back. BJJ keeps teaching me lessons I end up using everywhere else: on set, in sales, in business, in life.

Here are the big ones.

1. Thank the problems

In jiu-jitsu, every training partner is a problem to solve. Some are stronger. Some are faster. Some are just smarter than you on that day.

At first you get frustrated. Then you realize: those are the people making you better. If everyone let you win, you’d learn nothing.

I try to bring that into life. A hard client, a tough director, a project that keeps going wrong. Instead of complaining, I try to say thank you. Difficulties are the training partners that make you stronger.

I learned the same thing in theater from a very tough director. I wrote about it in The Toughest Director I Ever Had.

2. Ego is the first thing you tap out

You will get caught. You will get pinned. Someone smaller than you will submit you. It happens to everyone.

The people who quit BJJ are often the ones who can’t handle that. The people who stay are the ones who tap, smile, and ask “how did you do that?”

That’s a great attitude for an actor too. You’ll lose castings. You’ll get notes you don’t like. You’ll see someone else get the role you wanted. Tap, learn, go again.

3. Pressure reveals your training

When someone is on top of you and you’re tired, you don’t rise to the occasion. You fall to the level of your habits.

It’s the same in a live hosting gig when the program changes five minutes before you go on, or on a shoot when the call time moves. What saves you is what you’ve practiced. Calm under pressure isn’t magic. It’s reps.

4. Breathe, and stay calm

Beginners panic. They burn all their energy in the first minute trying to escape a bad position, and then they have nothing left.

Experienced people breathe. They make small adjustments. They wait for the right moment.

I’ve used that so many times in life. When things get bad, money, health, career, the panic move is rarely the right move. Breathe first. Then fix the next small thing.

5. Sell the change, not the feature list

This one surprised me. BJJ made me better at sales.

Nobody signs up for jiu-jitsu because of a list of techniques. They sign up because they want to change: feel confident, get fit, defend themselves, stop being scared, have a community.

When I explain a service to a client now, I try to remember that. Don’t list everything you do. Show them the change they’ll feel. That’s what people really buy.

6. Small daily progress wins

You don’t get good at BJJ in one session. You get a tiny bit less bad every week. A slightly better grip. One escape that works today that didn’t work last month.

That’s how careers are built too. I’ve been performing since 1998. Nothing came in one big jump. It was a lot of small days stacked on top of each other.

7. Respect the people on the mat

At the end of a roll, you shake hands. You just tried your best to choke each other, and you say thank you. There’s something beautiful about that.

Hard on the problem, kind to the person. I want to work that way too.

Try it

If you’ve been curious about BJJ, my advice is simple: go to a trial class. You’ll be bad at it. Everyone is at the start. That’s the point.

And if you already train, tell me: what’s the biggest lesson the mats have taught you?

Want to know more about me? Start with my About page, or read more on the Blog.

Every week someone asks me the same question. “Kuya, aren’t you scared AI is going to take your job?”

Fair question. I’m an actor, a host, a director and a content creator. On paper, that’s exactly the kind of work people say AI will replace.

My honest answer: I use AI almost every day. And the more I use it, the clearer it becomes which parts of my work are mine.

I’ve been testing it in public

I’m not talking from theory. I’ve been playing with these tools for a while, and posting the results here on the blog.

I once asked ChatGPT to write VBA code that builds a whole PowerPoint presentation for me, then ran it as a macro. A deck in about five minutes. I wrote down the steps in How to use ChatGPT to create a PowerPoint presentation in 5 minutes.

Then I gave the exact same prompt to five different AIs: “Invest ₱10,000 for me.” ChatGPT, Grok, Gemini, Copilot and Meta AI. Same question, five very different personalities. That was a fun experiment. (Not financial advice, by the way. It was a test of the tools.)

And recently I set up an AI assistant on Grok to help me with everyday errands. It even helped me find a cleaner for my condo. Small thing. But it saved me a lot of messages and time.

What I hand to AI

After all that testing, here is my simple rule:

If it’s repetitive, I hand it to a tool.

Things like:

• First drafts of a list, a caption or an outline
• Turning my messy notes into something organized
• Researching options so I can compare them faster
• Building slides, formatting, the boring structure work
• Errands and admin that eat creative hours

Every hour I don’t spend on admin is an hour I can spend rehearsing, filming, or being with people.

What I never hand over

Now here’s the other side.

When I run storytelling trainings, I keep telling participants the same thing: put puso in it. Heart. Feeling. Your real experience. People don’t remember a perfect sentence. They remember a moment that made them feel something.

AI can describe sadness. It can’t remember the day your lola died.

When I act, I use my own memories. In a casting, if a director asks me to play a certain situation, I go back to a real moment from my life and play from there. That’s the job. That’s not something you can prompt.

Same with hosting. When I hosted the Artitude Group’s exhibit at the Ayala Museum, a lot of the best moments were unscripted: reacting to the artists, the room, a joke that landed or didn’t. Live energy is human energy.

So, these stay with me:

• The emotion. The reason anyone watches.
• The choices. What to keep, what to cut, what the story is really about.
• The relationships. Directors, crews, clients, audiences. Nobody books a chatbot because they had a great coffee with it.
• The final say. If my name is on it, I check it.

The viral formula is still human

Years ago I wrote about the 4 key elements to make a video go viral: relatability, making people curious, emotion, and something unbelievable. I still believe that.

AI can help you brainstorm a hook. It can help you edit faster. But relatability and emotion come from knowing people. You learn that by living, by performing, by watching how a real audience reacts.

I’ve posted 1,000 Instagram reels. If there’s one lesson in that number, it’s this: consistency beats luck. AI can make consistency easier. It can’t make you show up.

My advice to fellow creatives

Don’t fear it. Don’t worship it either.

Use AI like a very fast assistant who never gets tired but has never lived a day in your shoes. Let it carry the boxes. You decide what goes on stage.

The creatives who will struggle are the ones who either refuse to touch the tools, or let the tools do all the thinking. The ones who will thrive use AI to clear the boring stuff, then put all that saved time into the human part.

That’s my plan, anyway.

Are you using AI in your creative work? I’m curious how. Want to know more about what I do? Read my About page, or if you have a project in mind, let’s work together.

I’m Kuya Manzano, a Spanish-Filipino actor and singer, and I have been packing a suitcase for shows since 1998. Zarzuela stages across Spain, a six-month run in Shanghai, a national tour here in the Philippines, out-of-town show weeks with mountains behind the stage. People think touring is glamour. Half of it is. The other half is finding your toothbrush in a dark hotel room at 1 a.m. This is what life on tour has taught me about the craft, and about staying human while you do it.

Where the road has taken Kuya Manzano

I was born in Madrid to a Spanish father and a Filipina mother. As a kid I watched my family’s rehearsals at Repertory, and my mom took me to see plays in London and New York. So the travelling bug and the theatre bug bit me at the same time. Rough deal for my suitcase.

I studied voice and acting in Spain, competing against the whole world, without family around. Then came about 30 zarzuelas and operas in theatres across Spain and Portugal. La Verbena de la Paloma in Galicia. La Calesera and Gigantes y Cabezudos in Logroño. Katiuska in Vitoria. Doña Francisquita and Luisa Fernanda in Madrid. I toured Spain as the lead in Nos vamos de campamento, and as the lead in Save Peter Pan, which we toured around Spain in English. Work also took me to Holland.

When the 2008 crisis dried up work in Spain, I went further. I spent six months in China at the Universal Expo in Shanghai, playing the lead in a very visual show promoting Spain. Yes, there was bullfighting. On a stage. In China. Life is funny.

In 2011, passing through Manila, I dropped by a rehearsal. They were auditioning for someone who could sing opera. I got the part, and the Philippines has been home ever since. Later I played Padre San Vitores in San Pedro Calungsod the musical on a national tour, with a very young cast. One stop was a school campus in Cavite. Every stage counts, even the one in a school. The full list of shows is on my work history page.

Lesson 1: The stage changes every week, so own your basics

On tour, nothing stays the same. New stage, new wings, new floor, new lights, new acoustics. One out-of-town show week went straight from the airport into two rehearsals, and the stage was outdoors with mountains behind it. Beautiful. Also, it rained. I wrote about that week in the last days before opening night.

What travels with you is your basics: your warm-up, your voice, your lines, your marks, your face. Even your makeup changes with the venue, because coloured lights and the distance to the audience change how it reads. I break that down in my theatrical makeup guide. If the basics live in your body, a new stage is an adventure. If they don’t, it is a panic attack with costumes.

Lesson 2: Your voice is your luggage

Planes are dry. Hotel air-con is drier. Rehearsing over dinner is normal on tour, and so is talking too much because everyone is excited. Protect the instrument. Warm up even when the schedule says there’s no time, and keep practising between cities. I still record at home with a USB mic I have had for 15 years. It’s in my post on my home recording setup for singers. Cheap gear, honest ears.

Lesson 3: Language is part of the craft

When I arrived in Manila, I barely spoke English or Tagalog, and people teased my accent. I did zarzuela in Spanish, Peter Pan in English in Spain, and now I work in a country where every sentence is a little Taglish adventure. Each language opens a different door to a character. My accent even helped get me cast as a Spanish priest. Turn the thing they tease you about into a tool. I wrote more about it in the Spanish words hiding in Filipino.

Lesson 4: The cast is your family on the road

In Spain I learned the hard way what it means to be far from family. On tour, the cast and crew become that family. You share vans, meals, rain and nerves. Be the one who is on time, knows the lines and makes the room lighter. Directors notice, and some of them will test you anyway. That’s a whole story in the toughest director I ever had.

Lesson 5: Take care of the body and the head

Touring is a sport. Long days, late meals, strange beds. The body you bring on the road is the body you perform with, so I keep training wherever I can. Here is my bodybuilding workout. The head needs training too: tired actors get dramatic offstage, not only onstage. My mind over matter tips are how I stay sane.

Lesson 6: Enjoy the small things

A towel folded into a flower in the hotel room. Mountains behind the stage. Rain that follows the cast around like a fan. Touring is hard work, but you get to see the world while you do what you love. Spanish by birth, Filipino by heart, and a little bit of every stage I’ve stood on. Not a bad deal.

Life on tour FAQ

Who is Kuya Manzano?

I’m a Spanish-Filipino actor, singer, host, director and producer, performing since 1998. I started on stage in Spain and have lived and worked in the Philippines since 2011. More in my story.

Where has Kuya Manzano performed?

In theatres across Spain and Portugal, in Holland, for six months at the Universal Expo in Shanghai, and across the Philippines, including a national tour of San Pedro Calungsod the musical.

What is the hardest part of touring as an actor?

For me: a new stage every time, protecting the voice while travelling, and being far from family. Strong basics, good habits and a kind cast make it work.

People see the final ad. Thirty seconds, nice lighting, everybody smiling. What they don’t see is everything that had to happen before the camera rolled.

I’ve done commercials for brands like Tide, Sun Life, Chevrolet and Strepsils. One of the Chevrolet ones went viral years after we shot it: I checked one day and it had passed 2 million views. That was a nice surprise.

But today I want to take you behind the scenes. Not of the shoot. Of the casting.

Success is a lot of small things

A few years ago I wrote a quick list of everything that happened for me to get cast in a coffee commercial. Reading it again today, it still makes me laugh. And it still teaches me something.

Here is the honest version.

Before the call

I had joined that talent agency eight years earlier. Eight years. Most people think a casting is about one great audition. A lot of it is relationships you built long before.

I also help agencies on the other side of the table. I’ve worked as a casting associate, providing talents. So I know how stressful it is for the people choosing. They need someone reliable, fast.

The production assistant on that job was a friend from another commercial we shot before, someone who believed in my talent. And I had a personal relationship with the agency owner. We regularly had coffee together, which is a little funny for a coffee commercial.

None of that gets you the part. But it gets you the phone call.

The last-minute call

Then the call came. Audition, now.

I ran. I got a speeding ticket on the way. I parked my motorcycle illegally to make it on time. After the audition I had to hide and wait for the police to leave before I could get my bike back.

I’m not recommending that part. Please drive safely. But it shows you the reality: castings don’t wait for your schedule. Theatre doesn’t either. On one out-of-town musical we went from the airport straight into rehearsal. No hotel, no nap.

In the room

I dressed up specially to look good and formal for the part. If the role needs a certain look, walk in already looking like it. Help the director imagine you.

I had confidence in my acting, and that confidence gave me calm. Calm is underrated. A nervous actor makes the whole room nervous.

I smiled and made some jokes when I walked in. Not to be the clown. To create familiarity. A casting room is full of tired people who have seen fifty faces that day. Make them feel good for a minute and they remember you.

When the director asked for a specific situation, I used my own memory. I recalled a real moment from my past that felt similar, and I played from there. That’s acting 101, but under pressure people forget it.

And when I left, I said goodbye to each and every person in the venue. Every single one.

After the audition: the small yeses

This is the part most actors don’t think about.

After the casting they asked for IDs and photos with sunglasses. I sent them in 30 minutes.

They asked for photos with normal eyeglasses. I sent them.

They wanted me shaved. I said yes.

They asked for several photos taken that same day, to make sure it was really me and not an old picture. I did it.

After I was cast, they asked for a lot of wardrobe options. I said yes.

They changed the call time. I said yes.

Every one of those requests is a small test. Can this person be trusted on a set full of moving parts? Each “yes” quietly answers that question.

What I’d tell any actor

If you’re starting out in commercials, or in any creative job really, here is what that list taught me:

• Build relationships before you need them. The call usually comes from someone who already trusts you.
• Be fast. When they ask for photos, sizes or documents, the actor who answers first often wins.
• Show up looking the part. Make the director’s job easy.
• Stay calm. Confidence in your craft is the best cure for audition nerves.
• Be kind to everyone. The assistant today might be the producer tomorrow.
• Say yes to the reasonable things. Flexibility is part of the job.

Talent matters. Of course. But on most commercial sets, nobody remembers your audition. They remember that you were easy to work with.

You can read the original list here: How I got cast for the coffee commercial. And the viral one: 2nd viral video: Chevrolet commercial.

If you’re casting a commercial or a brand video and need an actor or host who says yes and shows up ready, see how we can work together. Need photos for your casting deck? They’re on my Photos page.