By Eric George Tauber
SAN DIEGO — “We all got destiny. We all got stories already been written.”
If you’ve ever taken a psych class, you’ve heard the name “Oedipus.” Playwright Luis Alfaro is known for his adaptations of Greek tragedy including Electricidad and Oedipus el Rey, recasting them in the Spanglish of the barrio.
This story begins in a prison yard. Prisons are dreary by design. You are surrounded by cold gray walls, don drab gray prison garb and meet the cold, stony stares of the guards. The best escape is into your own head.
“It’s not good to dream in here. … It makes you crazy. … It makes you sad.”
The prisoners form a Greek chorus, speaking in fragments, completing each other’s thoughts. Some fragments are in English with others in Spanish. Piece the fragments together and you get a complex, colorful mosaic.
Laius was a mero, a crime boss in a Los Angeles barrio. His army of cholos could steal and strip down a car in minutes. A mistico prophesied that his child would one day kill him. So Laius handed the baby over to a henchman for execution.
Leandro Caius cut an imposing figure as Laius. Large and stone-faced with dark, piercing eyes, he seems the kind of man who could order the murder of anyone, even his own newborn child.
Years pass and Oedipus is getting paroled. Growing up in the system –foster homes and juvie- he has never really known life on the outside. But he thinks he could be a jefe (big-shot) if given the chance.
Laius and Oedipus meet on a narrow street and neither will give way. Things turn ugly. George Ye choreographed a brutal street fight in which Laius goes down.
When Oedipus meets Jocasta, she’s playing the part of the grieving widow because it’s tradición, what the gente expect. But when the chemistry starts cooking, the clothes come off and it gets pretty hot.
Mónica Sánchez gave us a compelling cougar in Jocasta. Suffering for years in a loveless marriage to a jealous psychopath, she was the brains to his brawn. Yet, in Oedipus’ tender embrace, she reveals the pain behind her anger.
Jocasta la Reina carries on the business with Oedipus as her front man. But this cabrón’s hubris is wanting everyone, even los viejos and God, to respect him.
The REP put together a tight ensemble. Dave Rivas is one of those actors that can pull you down the rabbit hole into his world. It’s crazy, colorful and dangerous where he lives, but you willingly follow as he gives you the grand tour.
Lakin Valdez, Oedipus, grew up in El Teatro Campesino, a guerilla theater founded by his father, Luis. Lakin unabashedly stripped himself bare, physically and emotionally, exposing raw wounds that never healed. His father was kvelling.
One might ask, why “update” it? What’s wrong with the original? Years ago, I taught drama classes to some pretty rough kids in the system. Offer them a “high-brow” classic and you meet resistance. Ancient kings aren’t relevant to their world. But if you tell them about a young mother losing her baby and an ex-con trying to survive on the streets, they pay attention.
The myth of Oedipus is as current as it is ancient. Are we masters of our fates or puppets pulled by strings of destiny? This burning question is the same question posed by the ancient Greeks, by Job, by all of us at one time or another: Why?!
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Tauber is a freelance writer specializing in coverage of the arts. You may comment to him at eric.tauber@sdjewishworld.com or post your comment on this website by following the instructions below.
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