Check out this excerpt from the thoughtful, glowing reviews for Oedipus el Rey continue to roll in, this one from Faddah Wolf at Portland Stage Reviews …
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| Photo by Russell J. Young |
«[Playwright Luis] Alfaro’s wordplay pulls off the agile coup of having the challenge, the swagger, the humor and the grittiness of Latino urban culture, while still maintaining the myth and poetry of style. The Chorus, or Coro here, are Oedpius’ fellow inmates at California’s North Kern State Prison. Instead of Greek columns, stark prison cells and walls. They direct us from the beginning and throughout to ask, particularly internally for ourselves, why tell the story of this man? What does the story of this cholo inmate have to say about us? This Coro observes and relates his journey to their own prison longings. Marco Garcia Ballaré’s Laius carries the aggression and fuming rage of an elder gang leader who’s never seen the inside of an anger management group, desperately trying hold on to his gang’s territory and power while alternating passion with abuse on Jocasta (Miracle Theatre Group’s Artistic Director Olga Sanchez). When the “cash-only” oracle tells him of the fate of him and Jocasta’s child — that he will grow to kill him and take his mother as his lover — Laius attempts to cheat fate by wounding the baby’s feet and then having Tiresius (a scarily mystic José E. González) take the baby out and kill it. Though no stranger to carrying out gang violence, this act is beyond even Tiresius, and he escapes taking the child as his own. And our fated mythic journey rolls underway.
«Oedipus, wonderfully played with the right amount of Latino strut, daring pride and smoldering intensity by Nick Ortega, is resigned to his abandoned life and growing teen-age anger, landing him in a life of prison. His foot injury he takes on to make him seem to walk with even more of a pridefully defiant stride. He is looked after there by Tiresius, now blind after committing several crimes also to look after his ward, and raise him hopefully with some wisdom, spending days in the prison library, the “REL” section, for religion. Indeed, Oedipus has his own spiritual visions — first with totem owl deities relating to his fate, later wrestling with barrio elders who transfigure into Luchca Libre enactors of the gods’ will, as he wrestles with them for his kingdom and godhood. But Oedpius has his own take on this spirituality, the pantheon of gods in prison represented by the differing faiths, catholic gods, jewish gods, christian gods, muslim gods — people can believe whatever they want, but he will make his own choices once out, and rise to god himself. Is this unique self-determination, or arrogance dooming him to carry out his destiny? The answer would seem fated as his first act after parole is killing an angry fellow cholo road rage stranger who threatens him, not knowing it is his father, Laius.
«Sanchez’s Jocasta shows the brilliant palette of a mature artist at its finest — both the heights of this Sureña’s passion and longing as well as the subtlety of her street gang wisdom are well played. Her mourning for Laius is real, but so is the longing left in her by the hole left by her lost son, and it is realized, without over-stating, that this is what Oedipus should fill for her on his return, and does, only in the most deviant way due to their intervening experiences. The passion that develops between her and Oedipus upon his return is not easily won with her guard up, but Oedipus slowly wins her over with his plain pragmatism and unyielding ambition. He does not mock her culture or beliefs, but simply states he sees the gods as, “a stick people use to beat themselves.” Their scenes together, especially the sexual ones, would some of the most steamy and sensual on stage in a while, were it not for the creepy knowledge the audience and Coro share of who they actually are to each other. Equally impressive is Osvaldo “Ozzie” González’s Creon, Jocasta’s brother, who, as Laius number two and former inmate comrade of Oedpius, feels that he should be moved into position now as gang leader. The obviously rivalry between Creon and Oedipus as the relationship between him and Jocasta goes from heated passion to her new appointee as gang leader throws more gasoline on this house on fire.
«The call of this Coro begs us to ask the questions to ourselves and apply to this culture — was all this completely fated? Where could any of them turned from this fate? At the crossroads, meeting his rageful father? Before? At what point does Oedipus’ self-determination transgress into sheer arrogance that contributes to his own downfall and blinding, a symbol of how this arrogance blinded him to other choices? Are all people in these communities fated to gang, crime and endless violence existence, or is there hope for other choices? Can there be such hope, ever, without an ultimate sacrifice we hold in symbolism by those who have gone before?
«When a production leaves you asking these questions within and without, you know you’ve struck gold. I know we’re barely to the mid-point of the year, but I’m calling it: for poetic writing, passionate direction and an taught, amazing acting ensemble, this is the production to beat. In addressing a culture that could teeter either towards redemption or throwing itself further into flames of violence, this piece stands as a true classic.»
Read the full review on Portland Stage Reviews blog.
Performances continue through May 26. If you haven’t bought tickets yet, visit our online box office or call 503-236-7253.