Tortilla Curtain

Kahn, Sears, Meyers. Photo by Daren Scott.

Not to be left out of the current trend in bringing novels to visual artistic life, San Diego Repertory Theatre birthed its world premiere, Tortilla Curtain, adapted from T.C. Boyle’s 1995 novel and transformed by award-winning playwright Matthew Spangler. Based on the reputations of author and playwright, the production had promise. Boyle’s novels number nearly two dozen, and his awards list includes some of the most prestigious. Spangler’s latest adaptive project, The Kite Runner, earned him the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics’ Circle Award for Best Original Script and Best Production 2009.

Yet, this production does not measure up to the expectations. It lacks focus and employs stereotyped characters, and it does not provide new perspectives on the issues first presented in the novel, 17 years ago.

It echoes a possible question by a dedicated Mexican foodie who bites into a vegan taco. “Where’s the beef?”

The subject matter is certainly meaty enough, and it should be relevant to Southern California audiences today.

The story, set in Topanga Canyon country in the fall and winter of 1995, focuses on a Mexican couple, Cándido (Kinan Valdez) and América (Vivia Font), who live in the canyon streambed, and an American environmentalist, Delaney Mossbacher (Mike Sears), who lives with his wife Kyra Menaker-Mossbacher (Lisel Gorell-Getz) in a gated community atop the canyon. The Mexican people want to take part in the American dream. The gringos want to keep them out badly enough to build a fortress-like wall (a device both real and multi -symbolic) to reinforce the community’s privileged perspective. When Delaney runs over Cándido, the lives of the two men become suddenly intertwined, much to their displeasure. A host of weird coincidences, some involving the trickster coyote, help to weave a tangled tale.

As in the 2005 movie, Crash, which also used unlikely links between strangers, this is a situation ripe for showcasing the cultural and legal implications of cross border relations, and it deserves a recipe with significant and thoughtful interpretation.

Yet, this play did not communicate substance, settling instead for speaking in vaudevillian vignettes. The actors, with few exceptions, are acting. Arms flapping, voices speechifying, and bodies bustling about exaggerate rather than enlighten. Somehow, Director Sam Woodhouse either let it get away with them all or misconceived the effects. Some calm and simmer is certainly in order here.

The script may be the greater villain. Going from page to stage or scroll to screen, as recent movie reviewers have ranted, jeopardizes the original. Adapters tend to want to include every scene and dialogue, fearing that critical bits of information and motivation left on the cutting room floor would deprive the whole of its conceived flavor. Nevertheless, translating a work of art, whether in medium or in language, means losing something. It is a tricky business. Taking on the daunting project of reinterpretation means deciding what to chop, what to reduce, and what to conserve.

Writer Matthew Spangler could sever the elder sister, ex-wife-with-gigolo-boyfriend action, titillating as it is with Resurrección (Vivia Font) and the boyfriend’s (Miles Gaston Villanueva) attention-grabbing bit of dirty dancing. Hack and hew, too, Cándido and Delaney’s chance, almost-encounter at the local grocery store. Neither scene imparts anything of true value. Boil down the drawn-out homeowners’ meeting and the inane morning after the accident conversation between Delaney and Kyra. The former needs less to say more; the latter needs more to say.

Consider this. Just hours before he is squeezing fresh oranges, plucked from his own trees, for his wife’s breakfast juice, Delaney may have killed someone. Perhaps he would want to discuss that with his spouse, or even himself, or, preferably, someone in a position to help find and treat the victim. Instead, Delaney flares up the blender then goes for a hike because he cannot get the incident out of his mind, and it is causing a bit of writer’s block. Really? No self-respecting liberal would believe that rationale longer than it takes to dice a jalapeno. Instead, let us witness Delaney’s conflict with the philosophical (“What is the moral action to take here?”) versus the pragmatic (“I tried to help, but he refused.”). His decision may remain unaltered, but his process deserves illumination.

Take a cue from Vivia Font, whose América truly experiences the physical and psychological journey from hopeless poverty in her homeland to hope-filled hunger for new life on the other side of the border. Her elation at dawn, her exuberant, successful job hunt, and her thrilling hopefulness at the prospect of having a real house in the bright future ring true. All the more devastating, then, are the assaults—one by man, the other by nature—that rob her of much more than dreams. Font is real in the role, and her interpretations are the play’s highlights.

Sears, an experienced actor well known to local audiences, delivers a noble effort at depicting Delaney, but he is limited by the script and prevented from portraying what could be a sea change in his metamorphosis from liberal to conservative. What motivates that extreme conversion remains unclear, largely because it happens without obvious reflection or conscientious reason.

Valdez brings passion to his role as Cándido, and if he settles into the character instead of reacting to others’ views of the character, his lead would flesh out the conflicts of a man trying desperately to provide for a family in an unfamiliar and hostile land while keeping a dream alive.

David Meyers is a steady presence as Jack Jardine Sr., Delaney’s best friend, and his responses to his tyrannical teenage son, Jack Jr. (a highly exaggerated Jeremy Kahn) provide a modern take on the difficulties of modern child-parent relationships. Villanueva, who plays several roles, is seriously sinister as the bad gangbanger, but he, too, is more caricature than authentic. Gorell-Gertz needs more to work with in her character of Kyra. As is, she comes across as a selfish, whiney wife, more affect than affected.

The technical ensemble’s territory is more impressive. Projection and set by Ian Wallace add grand dimension and turf; Valerie Henderson’s costumes are spot on, and Ericka Moore’s rough and tumble choreography portrays Mother Nature’s rage.

This world premiere is more a worthy workshop in progress. Give it extra time in the kitchen, por favor.

*****

Tortilla Curtain plays on San Diego Repertory Theatre’s Lyceum stage in downtown’s Horton Plaza through April 8.

Performances are Thurs-Sat at 8 p.m.; Sundays at 2 p.m. Some selected performances on weekends, Tues. & Wednesdays. Visit www.sdrep.org for specific days and times.

Tickets are $32 - $51; Student tickets are $18. Discounts available for groups, seniors, and military.

Four hours free parking in Horton Plaza Garage with theatre validation.

Reservations: www.sdrep.org or Box office (619) 544-1000.

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Tortilla Curtain

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