Los monstruos

My first production at the International Hispanic Theatre Festival. The festival is one of the main reasons I came to Miami. Where else can I get such top notch quality theater in Spanish, than in sunny Miami. This particular production of "Los Monstruos" comes from the Compañía Criolla in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Emiliano Dionisi wrote this musical at a playwrighting conference, which lasted three months. He's acquired quite a CV as a playwright and director. I learned this information during the talk-back session after the show, moderated by Teatro Avante's director: Mario Ernesto Sánchez. The play is reminiscent of God of Carnage, written by Yasmina Reza, and originally produced in 2006. Accordingly, the subject matter is about societal expectations of parents, parents who have a hard time dealing with their kids' behavior, and the ultimate breakdown of the parents in the face of conflict. I find it a little conflicting that the subject matter is such by a young playwright who is not a parent. But hey, everyone can branch out a bit. And, this musical won a lot of awards in Argentina.

Here "Los Monstruos" won the award for best musical in the 2016 Premios Hugo. Photo by Alfredo Luna.

The play follows the lives of a single dad, Claudio, and his son, paralleled with a mother, Sandra, and her daughter (the dad is a deadbeat who is only referred to). Claudio was played by Argentine actor Mariano Chiesa, while Sandra was played by Argentine actress Natialia Cociuffo. Both have "exceptional" kids: "Ni peor, ni mejor...distinto". Obviously, this is in the eye of the beholder. It's true. Each parent tends to believe their children are unique and outstanding. But their uniqueness creates problems at school. We learn that the dad has a problem with his son because he doesn't defend himself and others bully him. The mother has a hard time with her tomboy daughter who is invited to parties out of "pity". Each parent tries to make the best with their current situation, but they begin to unravel as the play develops. Eventually, the father snaps, and we learn at the end that instead of a life-threatening fight at school, he's actually the reason his son is in the hospital. On the other hand, the mother is in the hospital, awaiting the recovery of her husband, because her daughter pushed him down the stairs. At the end, we learn that the parents are the ones with the problems, and not so much their children. Or, their children were to become a product of their parenting. Either way, it's definitely not a happy ending.

Mariano Chiesa as Claudio, next to Natalia Cociuffo as Sandra. Photo taken from: El Mostrador, Argentina.

The scenery is exactly what you see in the picture above. It's rather simple, which, for me, is always welcome. I like this minimalist feature because I can focus on the acting and the dialogue. There's nothing worse than watching a flashy spectacle with absolutely no story. And there was a story here! If I could add a little more, on top of the minimalist stage, they never left the small square that encapsulated them during the entire musical. Much like God of Carnage, mentioned above, as the play progressed, the parents slowly opened up to the audience and revealed their innermost desires for fame, sexual satisfaction, etc. It was like watching a boxing match where the players bloody themselves verbally more and more, reaching the climax when one is knocked out.

I have to be honest. When I see productions like these, it makes me reevaluate my own position as husband and father. Their kids, on the surface, are everything to them, but underlying it all is their forgotten selves. You could almost argue that their children become their obsessions that end up hurting both their children and themselves. After seeing this production, I've reflected on moments when I raise my voice or get frustrated with my children. How far away am I from becoming like them? It's a scary thought, but I at least find solace in the fact that I can reflect on this development before it is too late. And yes, my kids mean the world to me. And yes, they are special.

Sublime Decisión

I finally have an evening to escape from the plethora of amazing activities Mester in Salamanca has put together for my 2 week course for Spanish professors. Luckily, this week is the "Festival Internacional de las Artes de Castilla y León". Not so luckily, there are very few theater pieces to see: two to be exact. Oh well. "No llueve a gusto de todos" ("you can't please everyone") as one of my professors said here.

Flyer for the Arts Festival

Tonight's production was "Sublime Decisión", an overtly didactical feminist play, at the Teatro de la Comedia in Salamanca. This play was originally produced in 1955 by Spanish playwright Miguel Mihura at the Madrid theater "Teatro Infanta Isabel". All the actors of this production, directed by Pablo Málaga, belong to the company "En Verso" ("In Verse"), promoted by the "Universidad de la Experiencia" (University of Experience), a government inititative with the University of Salamanca, for citizens 55+ in the region of Castilla y León. If I were to offer some type of production comparison for the United States, I would categorize this as a "community theater" piece.

Outside of the "Teatro La Comedia" in Salamanca

Flyer for the production of "Sublime Decisión"

In "Sublime Decisión" we follow the life of Florita, played in this production by Isabel Ortiz de Zarate Gorbea. Florita aspires to more than being only a coquetish girl on a balcony, awaiting a suiter to snatch her up. She aspires to work, to do more with her life. The year is 1895, and we are in Salamanca. For women in Spain during th 19th century, to pursue a career was almost impossible, and definitely socially awkward. Take, for instance, Emilia Pardo Bazán, an incredible writer from Galicia who was denied entry into the Real Academia Española, not for her indubitable talent, but for the simple fact of being a woman. Florita confronts her society with her dreams. She eventually persists enough to be placed in a government position that is completely sexist. But, true to melodramatic works, she clearly outperforms the men and makes them feel humiliated. She is the "underdog" with pure talent. However, with time, she is eventually sacked from her job, even though she is the best at it, and even though the other men have problems with her. It's completely unjustified, but what could you expect from 1895 when, in comparison, we have an idiot like Trump who continues to make hostile comments about women and menstrual cycles? But enough about that...

Florita at work

But the government office is not where the majority of this play occurs. We are privy to the conversations of Cecilia, Florita's sister, their mother, the aunt, and the two neighbors who gossip like crazy. That was my favorite part of the play. There were moments when it felt like I was actually watching a real conversation. In other words, a lot of the dialogue felt real, as opposed to other moments when the dialogue was a bit forced. Let me give you an example of forced dialogue here. When Florita was fired, right before she leaves she turns back and says "Adiós a mi sueño". I mean, it's obvious. We don't need to hear it to confirm it.

At the end of the production a sort of "deus ex machina" tool was used, and Florita was offered a position to oversee the new ministry of women and put only women to work in that ministry. She denies, yet again, the advances of her suitor, and dedicates her life to her work. This is when she confronts the audience to say that this decision was "sublime".

The ladies gossip about Florita

Now, if I may, I'd like to add just a few criticisms concerning this particular production. I'm not sure if it was the directing or the limitations of the space, but the lighting and the music truly bothered me. For example, the sound system made me jump in my seat at first. Then, they had some strange jazz/pop selection like something straight out of "Moulin Rouge (2001)" that played between major scenes. Concerning the light, there were moments in which actors whole faces were blocked by the curtain and, subsequently, were in the dark. However, they did well with what they had. I'd imagine this was sort of a shotgun performance for the arts festival, so they probably didn't have a lot of time to sort through technical aspects of the play in this particular theater. 

The actors during their final bow (Florita is next to the guy with the white blazer)

It doesn't seem like theater is very popular here. There are two productions during the whole festival, and very few options in Salamanca. Maybe I'm just here during the "off" season, though. For this production, the small house was maybe a quarter to a third filled. But anyway, it was a fun experience. I'm grateful for the time and talents that went into this production.

Cosas pequeñas y extraordinarias (Small and Extraordinary Things)

It is going to be difficult to see another drama on this trip that will be more visually and emotionally brilliant. Images of this play continue to percolate in my head, and I am still held in a sense of awe and wonder at the creative brilliance put into this masterpiece. In fact, while I was watching the play, I was thinking to myself, this is going to be one of those plays that will be reproduced for decades to come. I felt like I was in the middle of history in the making. But enough about my afterthoughts. If you will permit me, let me describe this majestic drama.

We originally went to see this production on Saturday at the Teatro Galeón at the INBA (Instituto Nacional de Bellas Artes), but it was sold out. We ended up seeing another piece of theater, which was a pleasant experience, but not much to write about. Then we bumped into Fernando Bonilla and Valentina Sierra, who were able to find a way to get us in to the production on Sunday afternoon. Mind you, the production ended on Sunday, so we were able to see the last production before they went on tour.

Centro Cultural del Bosque, next to the Auditorio Nacional. Photo Credit: Pim

From the beginning, while waiting to enter the theater space, the actors mingled with the kids who were waiting to enter. There was also a special program for children with a small book with activities and a small story asking the children questions about how they would react if they had to move to another country. According to Tim, Daniela and Micaela work well with theatre for younger audiences. After seeing this production, I concur! The mise-en-scene was fantastic. They used a projector to put different things on two projector screens throughout the play. For example, they projected grandma's letters, moving water with blue dye, Emma's room, and other experiences. Also, Jacobo Lieberman created original music and sound for this production. More and more I am learning that background music in plays, when used in creative and effective ways, can be a deciding factor between a moving experience, or something close, but not quite enough. Finally, all four of the actors, Daniela Arroio, Micaela Gramajo, Sergio Solís, and Mario Eduardo D'León were stellar. At every moment of the play I was enraptured by their characters and, not once, taken from the story.

Kids in Emma's new home playfully tease her because of her strange jacket in such a hot climate.
Photo from TipKids

The subject matter of this play is immigration and refugees, but more importantly, how this affects the lives of children. The story follows the life of an eight year old girl, Emma, played by Micaela Gramajo, who loves collecting "cosas pequeñas y extraordinarias" (small and extraordinary things) in her small community. Because where she grew up was cold, she always wore her investigting coat with 22 pockets. This is where she would keep the things she found until she could place them in her museum. She keeps a pocket book where she documents when, where, and how she finds the things she collects. This was a beautiful part of the story, because it showed us the innocent, excentric, and exploring nature of children.

We begin to learn about her community's troubles when, at the beginning of the play, she asks why her parents stopped taking her to see her uncle. Then, we learn that things are becoming more dangerous in her community. She can only go from home to school and back each day. Finally, her parents decide to flee the country. They must leave their family, community, friends, etc. to find a safer place to live. For Emma, though, her grandmother and uncle, as well as her little museum of small and extraordinary things.

Emma's Museum of Small and Extraordinary Things.
Photo taken from Ángel Fuentes Balam's article in Ciudad Ocio

When Emma moves with her family to a new country, the climate, language, and customs are very different. For a girl of eight years, she finds her new home terribly different, and decides to stay inside her room. She misses her grandmother, with whom she continues to write and receive letters. The actresses asked an older lady to read the letters from her grandmother throughout the play. My goodness it was beautiful. Even the lady who read the letters found it difficult to read them because of the sentimental value of writing a close relative who you can no longer see.

The family arrives in the new country. Mother and daughter roles are different from what we saw.
Photo Credit: Yazmín Ortega. 

But, soon after Emma's arrival, a cat arrives, played by Sergio Solís, and befriends her. He learns about her museum, and, because a cat's nature is also to explore new things, he convinces her to go out with him and look for small and extraordinary things in Emma's new vicinity. Emma is hesitant, but accompanies him. While out exploring, they see another girl of Emma's age, whose name is  who likes to dance on the beach. Slowly, Emma and her become friends. Litte by little, Emma adapts to her new community. But it wasn't easy. Miscommunication, differing expectations, and her longing to be with her grandma and uncle, make it so that she breaks down one night and refuses to accept her new home. She wants to return. For her, nothing is small and extraordinary. She demands an explanation from her parents why she can't go back home. They decide to tell her that people aren't safe, that they disappear. In her innocence she replies that no one just disappears. And her parents tell her she is correct. People make other people disappear. She can't handle any of this. Sobbing, she runs to her room and decides to never leave again. Then, something truly magical happens...

Emma sees whales in the ocean. Photo from INBA.

At the height of her desperation, cat tells her to look out at the ocean. Emma sees a parent whale with child, swimming through the ocean. Hypnotically, she wades into the water to get a closer look. My goodness, this scene was absolutely breathtaking. The ambient music, the illuminated whales, the ocean waves, and the dark scenery all contributed to a truly magical moment, both for the spectator, and for Emma. And it is at this pivotal moment that Emma realizes there are extraordinary things in her new home. She then decides, after many attempts at persuasion by the cat, to inaugurate her second museum in her new home.

I am in tears just writing about this. If I could only see one piece of theater while in Mexico City this trip, and it was this one, the entire trip would have been worth it. Unfortunately, the play ended it's production at El Galeón at the Centro Cultural del Bosque. However, and fortunately, the company is now touring the Mexican Republic. When this drama returns to stage, you don't want to miss it! Absolutely magical!

To follow this group, visit them on Facebook at Proyecto Perla Teatro, or on Twitter: @ProyectoPerlaT

There is a version recorded on YouTube if you don't have the opportunity to travel to Mexico and see this production. Obviously, it's better live, but you can get an idea of the performance here:

¡Silencio, Romeo!

"Lo que el amor puede, el amor lo intenta"

We came back to another performance by Seña y Verbo: Teatro de Sordos (we previously saw a rehearsal for Gato vagabundo). This time, the production was in conjunction with the British Council. Alberto Lomnitz translated the play Romeo and Juliet into Spanish, and the director, Carlos Corona, in conjunction with the actors, translated that into Mexican Sign Language (LSM: lengua de señas mexicana). We traveled to the Teatro Benito Juárez in Colonia Cuauhtémoc, where we had visited in 2015 to see Valentina y la sombra del diablo. This adaption used simulatenous sign language with oral expression. Two of the actors were deaf: Roberto De Loera (Romeo) and Eduardo Domínguez (Mercutio). The rest of the time, what was signed was concomitantly expressed by either an actor on stage right, or by one of the musicians on stage left. The other two actors, Daniel Ortiz (Nana, París, and Tybalt) and Valeria Fabbri (Juliet) knew and perfomred with sign language, but were not deaf. At the end of the production, they even asked us to applaud in sign language for the two deaf actors. What a treat!

                              Interview with Eduardo Domínguez in Spanish/LSM by Salvador Perches Galván 

Each actor took on multiple roles, and each time a new character was introduced, they showed us their sign, in order for those who might also be deaf, to also distinguish who is who, as well as not having to repeat the spelling of each name each time someone's name was mentioned. For example, when París was mentioned, they would put their index and middle finger around their eye in a "V" formation. For me, the words were accentuated through simultaneous voice. Also, during the final scenes, when Romeo commits suicide next to his beloved Juliet, Roberto De Loera vocalizes "Silencio, Romeo". Because Roberto is deaf, he cannot perfectly hear how he speaks. The choice to have him speak in that moment only, right before his death, appeared to me as a pure vocalization, straight from the heart. This was one of the most powerful moments of the play. It was like what came out of his mouth was purely physical, hardly affected by social norms related to language sounds. It's difficult to explain, but it was at this point that made my eyes started to water - my allergies were acting up at that point! It was the allergies!

The death scene when Romeo & Juliet are found dead by Friar Lawrence.

All in all, this was a fantastic production. My personal taste excludes much Shakespeare, because I think it's time to spread the wealth among productions in English. However, this particular adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, because it was doubly translated into Spanish and LSM, is an exception. I think it is an exception because by nautre it is an adaptation and not a reproduction. Take, for instance, the "What's in name" or "A rose by any other name", and the giddy nature of young love, all of this in colloquial Mexican Spanish, accentuated by sign language that offered other angles for understanding one of the most read and produced plays in Western societies.

The beginning of the play when two adolescents at work decide to reenact the play.

On our walk out of the theater, Tim commented how when the actors would say "Escúchame", they would point their index and middle fingers at their eyes, as if to really say in LSM "Mírame". These are the moments that make theater worthwhile; they expand my vision of the world, and deepen my love for communication and understanding. So far, this is my favorite production this year!

De Príncipes, Princesas y Otros Bichos

Last night we attended a one-time performance of Paola Izquierdo's theatre piece: De príncipes, princesas y otros bichos (of princes, princesses, and other creatures) at the Foro Cultural San Simón here in Mexico City. It was a lovely, calm area of town, with a beautiful park next to the theater. In fact, I'm not too aware of all the infrastructure and urban planning that goes on in Mexico City, but I have to say that I am very impressed by the infrastructure I've seen so far. The equipment in the parks, for example, is wonderful for kids, well maintained, and they've added fitness areas for those interested in getting their fit on. Also, this cultural center does not charge a fee to enter, making cultural activities accessible to any who desire to participate. I am so impressed by the Delegación Benito Juárez and how this governmental entity upports cultural centers, amenable urban spaces, and attempts to make sure the quality of life in their delegation is conducive to happy citizens. I am very impressed!

The exterior of the San Simón Cultural Center

The interior of the San Simón Cultural Center

The drama we saw is actually two monologues put into one. The version we saw yesterday began with Paola Izquierdo as the personification of all sorts of Disney princesses as she searched for her prince charming, who happened to be in the form of, yes, a frog. The second part of the show was Paola Izquierdo dressed as a street clown entertaining for money. Accompanying her on stage was Isaac Pérez Calzada (from "Dicen que me parezco a Santa Anna... ¡y yo ni guitarra tengo!") who played the violin, and (still waiting to hear back) who played the piano. The musicians played an integral part in the production, adding their own personalities and sound effects to the words that Paola spoke as both characters. For example, certain phrases and certain words would be accompanied by certain sound effects that were repeated throughout.

Paola Izquierdo as Princess. Photo taken from a review by Jimena Eme Vázquez.

The first monologue follows the princess as she narrates her story of following a rabbit into a hole and meeting several different frogs along her journey. Her story is riddled with feminist critiques of women's roles in society as she struggles between following her dreams of her doctoral thesis or finding her prince charming and staying inside and silent. Along her journey we learn about her family's influence on her decisions. Take the Queen of Hearts, for example. She wants her cousin to get married, or it's "Off with her head!" The humor is more light-hearted during the first half of the show, with songs from Disney movies about princes and princesses.

Paola Izquierdo as Street Clown. Photo taken from a review by Jimena Eme Vázquez.

Then, during the second half of the play, the monologue of the street clown shifts the mood into dark comedy. The ragged clothes, messy makeup, and dirty hair bring a stark contrast to the pristine, well-dressed princess of the first half of the show. It was during this second half, when, even though jokes continued to be told, it felt more uncomfortable to laugh. But laugh we did! It's as if the comedic aspects both made audience members realize that they shouldn't laugh because something should be done to change many heart-wrenching social realities, but at the same time it helps the show from spiraling into a dark abyss of depression and melancholy.

Paola Izquierdo as both clown and princess. Photo taken from a review by Jimena Eme Vázquez.

This play reminds me of Daniel Alarcón's War by Candlelight (2005), and specifically, the chapter entitled "City of Clowns." In this story, a newspaper reporter decides to live the life of a street clown to experience what it's like. But, he learns very quickly how terribly humiliating it is to live this life, and has the possibility to not have to do this for a living. However, according to the play last night, the street clown seemed to be desparate for any type of job. Paola's character described, through albures, the sexual and economic exploitation of kids that end up in the position her character was in.

Our first night in Mexico City and it was one not to forget!

The Oldest Boy

Tonight I jumped back into the KC theater scene to see “The Oldest Boy” by Sarah Ruhl at the Unicorn Theatre. This particular performance was unique because the show was framed initially around actual Tibetan monks who are currently visiting from India. Before the show began they greeted audience members with hand clasps and head bows, all the while performing ritualistic chants specific to their Buddhist faith. When Cynthia Levin, Producing Artistic Manager and director, introduced the monks to us before the show, she also informed us they would accompany us in the audience. Not only did we dive into foreign anxieties and traditions specific to Tibetan monks and those who practice this faith in the US, but these special guests also saw represented on stage our perception of their own struggles, beliefs, and traditions. Trippy, eh?

Front facade

Before the show

“The Oldest Boy” premiered a year ago at the Lincoln Center and is currently being produced simultaneously by the Unicorn Theater (KC) and the Marin Theatre Company (SF). The narrative of this story surrounds a racially-mixed couple who learn that Tibetan monks believe their three year old son is the reincarnation of a former teacher in Nepal. Faced with the decision to give up their son to be enthroned within a monk community or rejecting this proposal and living a more traditional American life, the couple must face each other and their religious upbringings, their emotional attachments to family, and their commitment to each other.

American living room for first act

There’s one aesthetic outlier to this whole story: the boy is a puppet. Manipulated by two puppeteers the rest of the cast interact with the boy as if he were real, but the audience, or at least myself, struggled to push away the obvious detachment between a real boy and a puppet. However, when the couple decides to let the boy live out a monk’s reincarnated life back in Nepal, the man who manipulated the puppet, and who spoke for the puppet, transforms himself into the enthroned and grown-up version of Oldest Boy. What does it say that the boy is a puppet? Does he have agency? This surprising element of the production raises questions about how parents approach their children and attachment/agency issues.

Alex Espy (puppeteer), the Oldest Boy puppet & myself (from left to right)

At first the plot-line sounds totally far-fetched for a traditional Judeo-Christian Midwestern audience, but I was drawn time and again to the clever threads that connected these two cultures and religions. For example, at one point Mother makes a Biblical reference to the idea of giving up her son to the Tibetan monks like Abraham offering his son Isaac for a sacrifice, or Jesus Christ dying for the Father. Or the other moment, masterfully performed, when the Lama who has only experienced monkhood, and Mother, who has experienced traditional American life, shed tears over losing loved ones in their past. These remarkable, intimate moments unify the two worlds with traditional spiritual narratives as well as raw human emotion. What at first seemed completely foreign became tremendously personal.

If I might indulge on one more aspect of the production this evening it would be the idea of reincarnation as translation. At the end of the play Mother leaves behind her son and rededicates her passion for literature with translation between English and Tibetan. She affirms her new career is similar to reincarnation in that while she creates a new work through translation, the concept or idea does not disappear between the two works. Amanda Boyle, the resident literary manager and dramaturg at Unicorn, quoted Reborn in the West when she describes reincarnation as the ability to “remain conscious through the transition from death to rebirth” (playbill). In a way, when we translate, that transition from one language to another requires that the concept and idea remain consistent, just as the life of a person who dies and is reborn stays consistent with the essence of that person, no matter what sign or form they select in the next life.

“The Oldest Boy” ends this weekend, so if you want to see this incredible production I would suggest you take action now. A big thanks to all who participated in this evening’s performance and for those who made the night extremely enjoyable.

Special thanks to Yve Rojas (right), member of the Board of Directors, for offering me an amazing experience

El amor de las luciérnagas

I’ve heard a lot about Alejandro Ricaño, a Mexican playwright, director and professor at the Universidad Veracruzana. He is one of the young up-and-coming playwrights of Mexico. My first encounter with his work came during a mini-course directed by Stuart Day at BYU. One of Ricaño’s more recent plays, El amor de las luciérnagas (Firefly Love), reopened this past Thursday in the Teatro Xola Julio Prieta in Mexico City. The play, which also won the Premio Bellas Artes Mexicali de Dramaturgia 2011, is a tender story of a young girl that both metaphorically and literally finds herself amidst emotions of young love and changing identities. The usual line-up of actors also appeared in this production which was directed by the playwright himself: Sonia Franco, Ana Zavala & Sofía Sylwin (the three Marías); Pablo Marín (Rómulo, the boyfriend, who also acted in 21 historias de baúl); Sara Pinet (María’s best friend, Lola); Hamlet Rodríguez (Ramón, the campesino); and Miguel Romero (the priest, among other roles).

Playbill Cover

Alejandro Ricaño

The structure of the play is an example of a tried and true heroic adventure where the heroine confronts a struggle, goes on an adventure, and then happily ends by learning something about herself. What was intriguing and unique about this specific use of this plot structure were three unique elements: the setting, the psychology of the protagonist, and fantastic elements. The play is set at the turn of the 21^st century in various regions of Mexico and Guatemala. By setting the play in Mexico and Guatemala Alejandro Ricaño played with the cultural uniqueness of these regions. For example, the protagonist travels from Tijuana to Xalapa where she confronts cultural differences between Northwest and Southern Mexico. Also, María travels with Lola to Guatemala where they belittle their neighbor to the South. These episodes create a cultural awareness unique to Mexico that give a special touch to a generic plot structure.

The psychology of the play was also unique because María, the protagonist, was represented by three actresses. Each version of María is a different period of time: young and innocent, adolescent and adventurous, and the present and confused María. During several scenes of high emotions, each of the three Marías narrated their feelings that combined into one rich and profound experience. One particular occasion was absolutely breathtaking. María traveled with Ramón, a country folk, slowly falling madly in love with his burly and masculine body. The present María acted the emotions while the other Marías narrated her feelings. The descriptions were enthralling, and I felt almost as if I became lost in their words. The use of three Marías was a unique element that demonstrated a deep entrance into the psychology of the protagonist.

From left to right: Sofía Sylwin, Sonia Franco & Ana Zavala

Another aspect that makes the play unique is the use of fantastic elements. Several news articles (Milenio, CONACULTA, mx-df.net, etc.), as well as the playwright himself in the playbill, note the use of magical realism within the play, an autochthonous literary genre of Latin America. However, each time it is mentioned there is no explicit reference or justification. Granted, if the play really does use magical realism then it would intend to make the play a truly Latin American one. I agree there are fantastic elements, but I don´t know if I would go so far as to qualify the work as magical realism. The reason I wouldn’t qualify it as magical realism is because the characters initially doubt the nature of a cursed typewriter and the creation of a duplicate María. Even though María realizes later on that she could live a different life while letting her duplicate finish out her current one, the idea of a duplicate was initially shocking (not reality). If because at the end of the play María accepts the fact that a duplicate person can live out the remainder of her life allows the play to be qualified as magical realism, then it slips into this category haphazardly.

The title of the show, referencing fireflies, is a metaphor for the only type of love María experiences: intermittent. Her first love, Rómulo, had an on-and-off relationship with María. Each time they came together it was for superficial and egotistic reasons: imitating actors, exploring sex, etc. María realizes by the end of the play that she’s ok with falling in and out of love and decides to return back to the small village where Ramón dwells. Earlier in the play the two experience an emotional connection and have sex. Realizing she might have a more stable life with Ramón, as well as a more profound connection, she leaves behind her former life for a new one with Ramón. Adding to this reference was the scenic design choice of a network of bulbs hanging down over the stage. On several occasions, as well as the end, the lights would flash in different intervals, replicating the experience of firefly light. At the end, when she accepts that she’s ok with having on-and-off relationships, and that this might be the only type of love she’ll ever know, the main stage lights fade as the flashing lights continue to make sporadic light on the stage.

The light bulbs hanging over the stage like fireflies

It’s a beautiful coming of age story with a Latin American flavor. The show continues until the 28^th of June, and only on the weekends. If you are in Mexico City this is a show you don’t want to miss.