Theater Review: Selma Arts Center’s searing ‘Mojada’ updates an ancient Greek tale to an all too familiar future
T
he last time I saw a version of the classic Greek tragedy “Medea,” by Euripides, was in 2002. The production devastated me. It was a limited Broadway run starring the great Irish actress Fiona Shaw as the title character, who murders her children, and I can recall that her emotions on stage seemed to manifest themselves in an almost material way, as if her torment were something solid: a ripe, putrid slice of something bad on a hellish cheese tray.
I remember walking out afterward feeling stunned. And enlightened.
I felt much the same after Selma Arts Center’s charged and haunting “Mojada,” a contemporary retelling of the Medea myth set in Los Angeles. This is one of three updated Greek classics constructed by playwright Luis Alfaro in a loose Latino trilogy, all exploring current themes of Latinidad.
Director Juan Luis Guzman and a stellar cast bring this tale to life in a version that seems to find, just like Shaw was able to on Broadway years ago, both the depths of despair and the electric, kinetic nature of life in an imperfect world.
In “Mojada,” set in the Boyle Heights neighborhood, we meet Medea (Dalicia Torrrecillas, who imbues the role with a fierce yet weary resolve), laboring as an undocumented seamstress in the Boyle Heights neighborhood of L.A. She works too hard making garments for which she is paid $8 that sell for $120 in Bloomingdale’s. And she worries that her young son, Acan (a strong Manuel Dolores Espinosa), is becoming too Americanized too soon. The boy’s father, Jason (Mason Beltran in yet another meaty, hugely impactful performance), encourages this idea of leaving Mexico behind: he wants Acan to call him Dad instead of Papi.
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But more than vocabulary is dividing this couple, even though Medea remains unaware of that fact for much of the story. Jason is ambitious. He wants to succeed in American-style capitalism. The question is just how far he’s willing to go.
Themes of gentrification and assimilation are prominent, and the plight of immigrant workers often takes center stage. Alina Gonzalez, in a crisp and evil portrayal of Jason’s boss, Armida, plays a character who personifies the ugliest side of capitalism.
Guzman and his creative team (including Nicolette Andersen as scenic designer) have crafted a space bursting with local color: chain-link fences, backyard shrines and an abundant supply of pan dulces. (Dan Aldape’s lighting design finds the bright, technicolor glow of Southern California days.) It’s telling that Jason, a construction worker, spends his days installing fancy countertops in the new condos taking over the neighborhood. A supporting character, Josefina (played at the performance I saw by a spookily cheery Deyzha Gonzales, who sells her Mexican pastries on the street), deftly straddles both cultures, joking about the bagels she’s having to make for the rich white folks moving in.
But we can’t forget the ancient, bloody origins of “Mojada.” The Medea story is anchored in more than just cultural clashes and the tussle between wealth and poverty. This is a tale of the subjugation of women. As the storyline tightens, we start to realize that every male relationship in her life has been steeped in emotional abuse. Her father, brother, lover and, at the end, perhaps even her son, treat her with a disdain that crosses cultures and centuries.
For me, one of the most wrenching parts of the play is simply in how awful Jason is to Tita (played by Paulina Contreras), Medea’s longtime nanny, confidante and streamlined Greek chorus. At first you might think their adversarial banter is good-natured, but you soon sense that Jason’s character is laced with a deep misogyny.
Perhaps that’s why this smart, intense, fiercely acted production affected me so deeply. And it’s a sign of why Ancient Greek theater remains so potent today. We’ve had thousands of years to get better. And we’re still trying.
“Mojada” continues at the Selma Arts Center through Saturday, Oct. 18.
