The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity
Reviewed by Dana Martin
Chance Theatre
Thru October 23
The Chance Theatre is pulling nothing but power moves this season. Kristoffer Diaz’s 2009 Pulitzer Prize Finalist, The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity, is masculinity on overdrive.
Macedonio Guerra, or The Mace (Rudy Solis III) knows his wrestling history. What’s more, he reveres the form as high art worthy of praise and recognition. He’s a pro wrestler himself, and he’s not just good at his job — he’s great. It’s a childhood dream realized but with a caveat: rather than fame and fortune, The Mace is a “jobber to the stars,” meaning he gets paid to lose matches to stars like Chad Deity (Londale Theus Jr.). Chad Deity is the ultimate anti-hero: he’s rich, flashy, and has an ego the size of Alaska, despite being a mediocre-at-best wrestler. The Mace respects and despises Chad Deity in equal measure. Both men are on opposite ends of the pecking order at THE Wrestling, run by Founder, CEO and resident slimeball Everett K. Olson, or EKO (James Michael McHale). EKO is in the disgusting habit of perpetuating offensive, culturally insensitive stereotypes in order to sell more pay views and shitty merchandise. Talent is the least of his concerns. Mace’s prospects of fame, fortune and even respect are dismal. The Mace forms an alliance with a friend of his brother, the charismatic Indian Brooklynite Vigneshwar Paduar, or VP (RJ Navarra Balde II), in order to create a foil for his rival Chad Deity, intending to beat Chad at last. EKO forces the men to don disparaging, racist personas (Che Chavez Castro and The Fundamentalist) and they are confronted with what it is they’re really fighting for.
Rudy Solis III is earnest and endearing as The Mace, who grapples with the downside of greatness — being a loveable loser. He does well as the evening’s narrator/historian and works hard to maintain the energy of the crowd throughout the evening. Londale Theus Jr.’s performance as Chad Deity is brash, confident and broad. RJ Navarra Balde Jr.’s smooth-talking VP is all bravado. James Michael McHale channels the late great Howard Finkel in his bombastic announcements and over-the-top introductions. He’s like a demented barker at a violent circus — cocky and slimy and he never drops his façade. Aaron McGee is noteworthy as the Bad Guy, playing a variety of nameless opponents that get beaten spectacularly throughout; he’s essentially the production’s very own jobber; a thankless and difficult role.
Director Jeremy Aluma is at his best during the play’s many high- octane action sequences. The play moves at a dizzying pace in the first half but struggles to regain momentum in the second act. The few quiet, reflective moments it offers are, in effect, clotheslined. Martin Noyes’ fight direction takes center stage in this production and the actors are brilliant in its execution. Not just fight choreography but dramatic and believable wrestling choreography that rivals any televised wrestling event. There are powerbombs, clotheslines, body slams, elbow drops, punches, tricks and more. Fred Kinney’s scenic design is primarily a large wrestling ring in the center of the action — appropriate though dominating, capturing the feeling of an arena. Sound designer Marc Antonio Pritchett nails the style and adds much to the many elaborate entrances as does Kara Ramlow’s flashy lighting design. Projection design by Nick Santiago is a mixed bag; sometimes the projections serve the storytelling, sometimes they distract. Bradley Allen Lock’s costume design is playfully outlandish.
The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity is a thoughtful story hidden behind an over-abundance of posturing and hyper-masculinity. Playwright Kristoffer Diaz examines racism and demeaning stereotypes unfairly imprinted upon (mostly) BIPOC performers within the pro wrestling industry. The men are simply aren’t permitted to shape their own identities and are treated as commodities, despite their money, fame and power. But Diaz conveys a deep love and nostalgia for wrestling and asks the audience to examine and appreciate the violence as an art form, which is surprisingly easy to do.
Chance Theater, 5522 E. La Palma Ave., Anaheim; Fri., 8 p.m., Sat., 3 p.m. & 8 p.m., Sun., 3 p.m.; through Oct. 23rd. ChanceTheater.com or (888) 455- 4212. Running time: 2 hours with one intermission.
