Elia Saldana and Ruth Livier (Photo by Grettel Cortes Photography)
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Latino Theater Company at LATC
Through June 9
In American Mariachi, José Cruz González’s new play directed by José Luis Valenzuela, a group of Mexican American women rebel against the macho mindset of their husbands and fathers when they strive to form a mariachi band, an enterprise traditionally reserved for men.
Intended as a celebration of mariachi and a feel-good tale about women discovering their potential and fulfilling it, the play leans a bit too heavily on familiar tropes and predictable plot points, while the performances, while capable, aren’t probing enough to obscure the writing’s limitations.
Still (to judge from the audience response), the production serves up a pleasant interlude of theater for lovers of the genre and the larger culture it represents. As dramedy, it also deserves note for underscoring the struggle of women to define their own lives — a lingering theme ruefully relevant now that reactionary forces are acting to wrest from women the hard-earned autonomy it’s taken years of struggle to attain.
The story is set in the 1970s. Lucha (Elia Saldana), a nursing student, is the prime caregiver for her mom Amalia (Ruth Livier) who suffers from early onset dementia. Lucha is a devoted daughter who loves her mom dearly, which is made clear by how promptly and generously she caters to her needs. But Lucha is also frustrated because the time spent at home interferes with her studies. Her father Federico (Sal Lopez), is a mariachero who supports the family with any gigs he can get and is frequently away. He’s unsympathetic when Lucha requests that he cover for her just once so she can take the test she needs to move on with her studies.
A turning point for Lucha comes after Federico accidentally breaks a recording of a song near and dear to Amalia’ heart. The record is impossible to replace, so Lucha, with her friend Boli (Esperanza América), conceives of learning to play mariachi to replace for her mom the song that was lost. The two women visit churches and beauty parlors seeking out other singers who might help form a band and succeed despite the efforts of various males to thwart or belittle them.
One important subplot (with a parallel I’ve noted too tragically often in real life) has to do with the relationship between Federico and Amalia. He is an adoring husband — but a suffocating one. Amalia gave up her musical dreams when she married him. And Federico’s unfounded jealousy has marred their lives in what is for Amalia an unnecessarily hurtful way.
American Mariachi aims in part to be a family drama, but some of the staging works against that effort. The scenic design by Maureen Weiss features a white ceiling-high backdrop with a filigree design whose busyness interferes with our focus (it did with mine) on the characters and their story, who seemed dwarfed by it. The stage is sparsely furnished, which is fine for some scenes but less so for family ones; for some scenes I wanted more of the warmth of a living room to reflect the family theme.
Other aspects of the staging are more arresting — certainly the ghostly white silhouettes of mariachi players that loom hugely larger than life in the background, suggesting how much that music infuses these people’s lives, along with the drawing in white of a guitar on the floor of the stage and the appearance of a large glowing white cross to indicate how religion too looms over people’s choices. The live music, buoyant or poignant or both, infuses throughout. One of the spirits that roams the mind of the lost-in-her-own-world Amalia is an imposing figure of a woman in 19th century dress Tia Carmen (Yalitza “Yaya” Vasquez-Lopez), who appears intermittently to add the strains of a haunting violin. And Pablo Santiago’s lighting is particularly effective in highlighting Amalia’s lonesome voyage both in this life and onto the next.
Latino Theatre company at LATC, 514 S. Spring St., downtown; Opens Sat., May 11; Thurs.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 4 pm; thru June 9. www.latinotheaterco.org Running time: 95 minutes with no intermission.
