Oedipus: “Am I what the lesson looks like?”
Article by Rebecca Romani
For young Oedipus, just out of jail and drifting down to the barrios of Los Angeles, Fate is about to smack him upside the head, somewhere on highway 99. Is it his destino, as the Coro or chorus asks, or will he move beyond and be, as he says, “not my story?”
Who we are and the choices we make or are made for us are but part of a larger picture playwright Luis Alfaro paints in The San Diego Rep’s powerful and dynamic staging of “Oedipus, El Rey,” now on stage through March 29th at the Lyceum Theatre.
It’s a centuries old story- hubris, passion and a thirst for power doom a ruling family. Chances are, it’s not going to end well, even in the barrio.
Alfaro has not so much adapted Sophocles’ ancient tragedy about a royal child of Thebes fated to kill his father and marry his mother as used it as a springboard to bring forward a story that is intimately connected to the barrios of the Southwest and to today’s issues of racially-tinged incarceration and cyclical poverty seen by many as merely the fate that befalls those living in some of our less-favored neighborhoods.
Thebes is now Southern California, Laius (Leandro Cano) the leader of a familia with “businesses.” Creon (Jorge Rodriguez) is still a jerk and the chorus has become the tattooed code-switching Coro, a fast-talking, smart-moving group of commentators as quick with the chisme (gossip) as they are with the advice.
Told mostly in the now, “Oedipus el Rey,” sets the story further back than Sophocles does, starting not with a King but a somewhat naïve young cholo, cycling in and out of one institution after another. When we meet Oedipus (Lakin Valdez), he is currently incarcerated in the California state prison in Delano, restless, bored, a reader. His father, Tiresias (Matt Orduna), has gotten himself sent down to Delano for a petty crime, all so he can raise Oedipus right while in jail. For this transgression, the gods have taken his sight, a harbinger of things to come.
What Oedipus Gomez doesn’t know, but we do, thanks to the Coro, is that he is the son fated to kill his father, that macho Lauis has defied the gods, giving his son to Tirenius to kill lest the child kill him, that Tirenius defied the gods to save that child, the same Oedipus, aka Patas Malas who hobbles on feet damaged by Laius at his birth.
That’s a lot of defiance, and in Greek tragedy and Chicano mitos, when you defy the gods, someone has to pay.
When Oedipus leaves jail, he goes not to Las Vegas (“a new place for a new start”), but to the heart and soul of Chicano culture, the barrios of Los Angeles. There, destiny kicks in and Oedipus fulfills the prophecy in rapid succession: Laius’ machismo gets him dead, face down in the dirt, felled by his own; Creon the wannabe supplanted by the new boy in town. And Jocasta (Monica Sanchez), the smoldering widow looking like some Azteca princess off a barrio calendar? Her journey from grieving (although secretly resentful of Laius) widow to passionate lover parallels that of Oedipus who moves from callous to King in a masterful group of scenes that end with him taking the older Jocasta to wife, and thus, into passionate, unknowing incest.
In the end, it is chisme that fells the mighty and Creon, the jealous, the wannabe mero or leader, finds himself THE man. Or does he? Messenger of the gods who seek retribution for defiance, Creon’s words bring the whole casa- passion, power and incest– tumbling down- Jocasta blinds Oedipus at his request, and in despair and disgust, takes her own life.
Alfaro’s “Oedipus” moves through the epic tale like flames through a building. In turns dynamic and fiercely tender, it weds Chicano humor with a sense of human frailty that recalls some of the hard-hitting plays of El Teatro Campesino, in which Alfaro clearly has both story and stylistic roots. Like El Teatro, Alfaro gives his work a striking immediacy. It has not been lost on Alfaro that the US boasts the highest incarceration rate in the world with Latinos making up almost 25% of the prison population according to the U.S. Bureau of Justice.
Little wonder then, that Alfaro’s characters find themselves imprisoned physically and figuratively by culture, race, socio-economics and desire.
However, Alfaro is not beyond really stretching the boundaries and the warning of nudity is well warranted. Putting the passion of Oedipus and Jocasta front and center, Alfaro leaves little doubt about their interest in each other in a scene that has both actors completely nude in a five minute demonstration of passion. Clearly the scene is intended to redirect the energy of the play towards the couple, but a slightly more stylized staging could have achieved the same impression. As it was, the suggestion of soft porn lasted longer than many cinematic sex scenes and almost functioned as an ad hoc intermission, so thoroughly did it stop the action temporarily in its tracks.
Under director Sam Woodhouse’s sensitive yet flexible direction, the switch up with Southern California Chicano culture is a brilliant conceit that meshes well with the original story. Like the Greeks, Chicano culture too, has an underlying belief system. Alfaro interweaves curanderos (healers), supernatural messengers (los tecolotes or owls) and the competing concepts of respeto, destino and devotion to la familia to create a tale as universal as it is steeped in Chicano culture, a sense of sabor which gives ‘Oedipus” its bite and power.
Woodhouse is working with a fine cast whose timing and delivery keeps the production from tripping over the weight of the script.
As the dramatic and emotional center, Lakin Valdez does a fine job of guiding Oedipus from innocent ex-con to a figure who can step in as El Rey. Son of El Teatro Campesino founder, Luis Valdez, his interactions with Monica Sanchez’ evolving Jocasta give the seduction and coupling of the two characters a sweetness that makes the final unveiling of the incest that much more tragic. As for Sanchez, her Jocasta has the thorny outside formed by a suffocating sense of compromise and unfulfilled nights. Sanchez beautifully unwinds her character until Jocasta fairly melts like butter in the love of a younger man who sees her much more clearly than Laius ever could.
The Coro (made of interchanging members) is tight, on cue and deadpan funny. It’s a fine piece of ensemble work made even better by Spencer Smith’s excellent choreography that gives the play its necessary backbone. Leandro Cano as Laius has limited stage time (he dies about 30 minutes in) but he anchors the fatally macho Rey with a bluster and a swagger that balances well with the solid dynamism of the coro and the sniveling brilliance of Jorge Rodriguez’ Creon.
Matt Orduna gives Tiresias a quiet dignity and pathos which plays well off Creon. Although Orduna feels a little tentative in the beginning, his Tiresias grows quickly and commands the stage even when the movement has stilled for a moment.
Spencer Smith and Davis Rivas round out the uniformly excellent cast, doing an amazing job switching between up to five different characters and yet remaining distinctly clear in each.
Woodhouse’s direction is amply complimented by Yoon Bae’s set design and Lonnie Alcarez’ lighting. Bae’s sets are spare and elegant, taking their cue from Alfaro’s psychological settings. Done in mostly simple tones, hints of Chicano iconography from a shadowy impression of the Aztec Calendar to imagery reminiscent of a Frida Kahlo painting are a perfect foil for Alacarez’ lighting that highlights the Brechtian curves of the stage and rims the actors, making them appear almost hyper-real.
Jennifer Brawn Gittings’ costumes are some of the most surprising visual highlights of the show. The mask work is a brilliant stroke and the three-person Sphinx is fantastic with the neon lights for eyes as a nod to vintage cars.
With “Oedipus El Rey,” The San Diego Rep is off to an incredible season. Timely and topical, Alfaro’s re-working of the classic Greek tragedy will have audiences thinking about how racism, the drug wars and the prison-industrial complex collude to control some of the more vulnerable of our society.
As Oedipus bends to the will of powers beyond his control, he asks, “Am I what the lesson looks like?”
Perhaps, Alfaro seems to say. Are you the Fates who play or do the Fates play you?
