Curtain Calls: Paarlberg on GALA

THEATERCURTAIN CALLS WHAT BECOMES OF THE BROKEN HEARTED?

Exquisita Agonía (Exquisite Agony) Written and directed by Nilo Cruz At GALA Hispanic Theatre to March 1

GrievinG can be like dating, in that both processes consist of different stages. There is the initial shock, the rush of emotions from infatuation or loss. There is the deepening obsession, the singular focus on one person crowding out all other thoughts. There is the idealization, placing the loved one on a pedestal. Then there is the reflection, the realization that the person is, or was, a human being, as complex and flawed as all of us. And ultimately, it is hoped, there is a return to equilibrium that points us to a clearer path forward. This process can be complicated by the fact that, in grief, the object of affection is not around to respond. It allows memories to shift dramatically along with emotions. The HBO series Six Feet Under illustrated this with the periodic appearance of the ghost of Nathaniel Fisher, who dies in the first episode, to his widowed wife and children. Depending on who he was talking to and when, he could be loving, hectoring, sage, or a homicidal gun-toting maniac.

Exquisite Agony, a play by Pulitzer-winning playwright Nilo Cruz now on stage at GALA Hispanic Theatre, takes a more static approach, in which another patriarch, Lorenzo, looms over the entire play as a larger-thanlife portrait looking down at his surviving family on stage. At times it can seem comforting, at other times menacing. Lorenzo’s portrait is sometimes obscured by sliding doors his wife occasionally closes on him, but they always reopen. This leaves his memory to be debated and acted out by those he left behind.

This burden is taken on almost entirely by his widow, Millie (Luz Nicolás), a retired Spanish opera singer in Florida, who overcompensates for the apparent indifference of her son and daughter. As the portrait reminds us, she can’t let go, and this motivates her unhealthy pursuit of another living reminder of her late husband. Lorenzo, it turns out, was an organ donor, and his heart went to a Cuban immigrant, Amér (Joel Hernández Lara), whom she tracks down, against the advice of the surgeon who did the transplant, Dr. Castillo (Ariel Texidó). An extended courtship commences, with Millie pursuing Amér aggressively: first by mail and eventually in person. Amér has misgivings, which we learn are very well founded, as his willingness to meet lands him and his protective brother in the middle of a tumultuous family drama into which they’ve been forcibly conscripted.

Like the grieving process, Cruz’s play morphs and moves in unexpected ways. It’s a melodrama, but one that portrays the stages of grief as not just a process but as an adventure. At times it is deeply sad and reflective, at others exhilarating, and in the second act, it becomes another play entirely. Cruz’s dialogue is lush and poetic—everyone, even the doctor, speaks in metaphors and goes on long philosophical soliloquies about things like cellular memory that would sound clunky in less capable hands. But the production is grounded by the excellent Nicolás, a GALA company regular who often takes on the most emotionally wrought roles and projects them through her whole body. Her Millie is an unstoppable force who masks her conflicted memories of her husband with explosive declarations of devotion and pain, twisting her very body into a pretzel.

The acting is solid all around, with Lara and Texidó, two Cuban actors new to GALA, giving life to the shy and sympathetic Amér and the chatty, love drunk (or simply drunk) Doctor Castillo. Another company regular, Andrés Talero, gives a standout performance as Millie’s son Tommy, whose sarcastic attitude comes off as self-centered and petty in the first act, then upends the story entirely in the second.

Exquisite Agony is a breathtaking ride, and GALA’s production is a rare chance to see a work directed by one of the best in the business. Cruz may be a showy wordsmith, and the dialogue can be baroque at times. But above all, he knows how to construct a story,

and can lead an audience around by its nose wherever he wants to take it. It can feel perilous at times, like you are being set up for heartbreak, or worse, cliché. But as with grief, sometimes it’s best to simply accept it and go along with it, not knowing where you will end up.

—Mike Paarlberg

3333 14th St. NW. $30–$48. (202) 234-7174. galatheatre.org.

JOAD RULES

Mother Road By Octavio Solis Directed by Bill Rauch At Arena Stage to March 8

You can look at a road trip from two perspectives: It’s either a journey toward a destination, or a journey away from an origin point. In Mother Road, a theatrical follow-up to John Steinbeck’s classic migration story The Grapes of Wrath, a band of Americans in search of a shared destination examine their own origin points.

Playwright Octavio Solis starts his story when William Joad (Mark Murphey) meets up with the last living descendent of Tom Joad in California. William plans to give this Joad the deed to his Oklahoma farm, for reasons not yet clear, but is surprised and initially dismayed to find that his would-be successor is Mexican American. (Throughout the play, the elder Joad earns the dubious distinction of being slightly less racist than other characters our voyagers encounter along their journey.) Still, he wants to verify their shared lineage and make sure that Martín Jodes (Tony Sancho) is up to the task of taking over his beloved farm. Because Martín Jodes, who harbors his own secrets, refuses to fly, the two have to drive back to Oklahoma together. Mother Road quickly falls into the rhythm of a road trip story, with the two men arguing over what music to listen to, and the long, lonely miles prompting them to open up and reveal intimate truths. The play is at its best when it examines these truths. Sancho highlights Martín’s righteous and Sisyphean bravery as he struggles against systemic racism and violence. Murphey captures William’s deep, internalized hurt. As they travel, the pair picks up more travelers, including Martín’s cousin Mo (a hilarious and winning Amy Lizardo). She, like William, Martín, and their fellow travelers, dreams of freedom, prosperity, and belonging—your typical American Dream stuff. Mother Road is, at its core, optimistic. It believes that people, despite their differences, can travel through life together. It’s a beautiful sentiment, with powerful staging. The characters travel around in a beat up truck, and the intimacy of the in-the-round staging pulls the audience into the play’s more actionpacked scenes.

This isn’t to say the play always works. While Mo injects welcome comedy and energy into the long journey, the show’s humor sometimes cuts and deflates dramatic and serious moments. Similarly, the play’s greek chorus, which intensifies the show with poetic chanting, at times interrupts otherwise strong scenes. Mother Road also takes on a lot, which means that not every compelling character and story gets as much time as you might hope. The genuine mutual affection, or at least understanding, William and Martín seem to develop doesn’t quite feel earned. Still, Mother Road is a reminder that while we’re all in this together, we’re all going through different things. If we afforded each other the thoughtfulness this play gives its characters we’d all be better off. Mother Road is a road trip. It’s long and winding, but worthwhile in the end. —Will Warren

1101 6th St. SW. $41–$105. (202) 554-9066. arenastage.org.

THRILL PILL

The 39 Steps Adapted by Patrick Barlow Directed by Nick Olcott At Source Theatre to March 15

Film director alFred HitcHcock supposedly first named the concept of a MacGuffin, which he described as "the thing that the spies are after but the audience don't care.” Spoiler alert: The title of the play The 39 Steps refers to a spy cabal intent on evil-doing and perpetuating a “master race.” But all that

How do you protect a child born into danger? Blue

global conspiracy stuff is barely glanced at, and it ultimately doesn’t matter much, when it comes to following or enjoying the play. With more than enough real-world conspiracies to dwell on, it’s a fun reprieve that The 39 Steps, based on the Hitchcock thriller of the same name, treats its shadowy organization as the ultimate MacGuffin, and its spy stuff as a mere backdrop for a spirited farce.

The hook may be the upending of classic film noir, but the play hinges on a gimmick wherein three of the four actors play multiple characters, often within a single scene, assuming new personas with onstage jacket switching and mustache fastening. This lends the show the fizzy energy of an improv show or something thrown together by neighborhood kids, but with the polish and tight choreography of a cast that knows how to sell a joke, and a restrained production that allows them to shine.

Though the nail-biting suspense is replaced with spot-on comedic timing, the plot follows the 1935 movie fairly faithfully. Richard Hannay (Drew Kopas)’s evening at the theater is cut short when the mysterious Annabella Schmidt (Patricia Hurley, who’ll be back to play two other lovely lasses) fires a gun as a diversion. She sneaks home with him, telling him she’s a spy who is in grave danger since she’s uncovered a ploy by the 39 Steps to steal military secrets. The next morning, Annabella is fatally stabbed with a knife in her back, forcing Hannay to go on the run to avoid being framed for her murder, and to get to the bottom of this dastardly conspiracy.

Without spoiling the twists and turns of the plot too much, the rest of Hannay’s journey entails an impromptu political rally, stops at several quaint countryside locales, a criminal mastermind missing part of his pinky, a sheeprelated traffic jam, an odd couple handcuffed together, and a man with nearly superhuman powers of memory. These absurd misadventures and roving settings keep the action and the dialogue moving at a speedy clip, and also provide plenty of memorable scenes, kooky caricatures, and delightful sight gags. The humor can at times veer into extreme dad joke territory, but the lines are delivered with such self-aware earnestness that they earn genuine laughs. Gwen Grastorf and Christopher Walker, who as the Cast of Dozens play all the other characters besides Richard and his femmes fatales, are a riot as they buzz around the stage juggling props, costumes, and accent changes. Constellation’s scenic design demonstrates a knack for working within the constraints of a small space, and the low-key, stripped back aspects of the production keep the feel intimate. A.J. Guban’s set is embellished with nested archways and nooks and allows for endless scene shuffling. Sabrina Mandell’s costuming is era-appropriate but vibrant and evocative. Several shadow puppet sequences are particularly effective, both as a way to cleverly convey the long distances that Richard traverses, as well as some memorably laugh-outloud imagery.

Silver screen aficionados will recognize the strains of scores from other Hitchcock films and other nods to the master’s work, and even those who’ve never seen a noir film will still get a laugh out of cheeky callouts, like one character imploring another to exit through “the rear window.” The fondness for the era of film noir and Hitchcock is apparent throughout, and the familiar rhythms of those films are lovingly sent up, without devolving into satire or heavy-handed moralizing about the geopolitical machinations mentioned in the plot. By the end, the dashing hero has gotten (one of ) the girl(s), the mystery is solved, and many laughs have been had—and all that conspiracy business is mere MacGuffin after all.

—Stephanie Rudig

1835 14th St. NW. $25–$45. (202) 204-7741. constellationtheater.org. March 15–28 | Eisenhower Theater Music by Jeanine Tesori / Libretto by Tazewell Thompson

In English with Projected English Titles

Kennedy-Center.org (202) 467-4600

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Additional support for Blue is provided by The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. Kenneth Kellogg and Aaron Crouch, photo by Karli Cadel