Drama Masks: In ‘Aztlán,’ gripped by intense forces beyond control

This is Drama Masks, a Bay Area performing arts column from a born San Franciscan and longtime theatre artist in an N95 mask. I talk venue safety and dramatic substance, or the lack thereof.

For reasons that should be obvious, I didn’t do a lot of Pride stuff last week. Between personal safety, desperately job-seeking, and my disdain for corporate-sponsored, cop-supporting pink-washing, I’ve found Pride to be a very solitary experience the last half-decade.

One of the few events I did attend was the Trans March on Friday. It was great. I got to Dolores Park early and hit up all the booths for swag (which included lots of free COVID tests and Narcan) and even got some great job leads. Hell, there was a great showing of (K)N95s on lots of the fabulous faces in attendance—even a Flo Mask. I was also there when our Honorable Mayor Blue Jeans showed up for photo ops, only to be mercilessly jeered out of the park. Life’s little victories, y’all.

As is often the case, the best part is running into folks you know. I ran into several Black theatre folk, including a member of SF Neos, a great actress in Oakland, and a journalist-playwright on the eve of his world premiere opening. Not only was it great to see them in person, but each and every one of them came based on political motivation. They came to march on behalf of queer kids, Palestinians, and everyone else who has been (and will be) fucked over by the current White House shit show.

I didn’t even march alongside them specifically as we hoofed it towards the original Compton’s spot on Taylor, but I marched with the front contingent reassured about the political spirit of Pride, the grassroots spirit of my hometown, and the fact that theatre artists are more bold and active than any rainbow-buttoned corporate shill trying to have it both ways as trans kids are stalked outside of restrooms.

We Black theatre folk showed up, and we didn’t come to stay silent. That’s Pride for me.

Aztlán world premiere by Magic Theatre

Speaking of not staying silent, the running theme of Luis Alfaro’s latest Magic premiere seems to be: “I have no mouth, but I must scream.” Even if you don’t know Harlan Ellison’s story, the title alone may trigger relatable frustration. Alfaro’s protagonist certainly does. He’s a now-adult juvenile ex-con, recently “freed,” but still trapped in a system that can’t even be bothered to hear his pleas. In fact, everyone seems to want him to shut up. No wonder he’s angry.

This is the eponymous Aztlán (world premiere through July 13 at Magic Theatre) as played by Daniel Duque-Estrada. He calls himself “a piece of shit” who suffers from “diagnosed aggression.” That’s a pretty myopic description for a guy who wound up in juvie because cops thought he was trying to kill the shop-owner he was performing CPR on. Of course, a life-changing incident with his father and brother didn’t help matters. Now, Aztlán— named after the storied home of the Aztec people—finds his attempts to avoid recidivism constantly butting up against a callous parole officer (Ogie Zulueta), a pair of crooked halfway house supers (both humorously played by Juan Amador), and his own tendency to use certain substances before taking a urine test.

It’s not just the system that haunts Aztlán, it’s also the culture that gave him his name. His daily life begins to merge with the Aztec legends of old, creating a magical reality of tribal dances and call of offerings. It can all be a bit overwhelming, especially since director Kinan Valdez (who, like several cast members, is no stranger to Alfaro’s work at The Magic) having everyone deliver most of their lines in an elevated manner. Most characters are shown in a state akin to a pot about to boil over. The results are mixed, even if does make the frustration of our lead all the more visceral.

What always works is staging the action on yet-another-winning-set by Tanya Orellana, an all-red space of shiny brick and roses, both forming into an Aztec pyramid upstage. Christopher Sauceda’s tribal and digital sounds and Alejandro Acosta’s lights are particularly effective during the play’s opening and closing sequences in the ancient land, with David Arevalo’s eye-catching costumes somehow fitting in fine with Aztlán’s modern-day conversations. (And no, I haven’t forgotten Joan Osato’s video work.) It all makes for an incredibly immersive production, albeit an intense one.

There were very few masked faces at the Magic on opening night. My Aranet4’s CO² readings peaked at 1,799ppm by the final bow. It really does seem that the Magic space seems to have found some steady medium in those numbers.

Aztlán is an intense story of being caught between forces beyond your control. It’s a story where it’s hard to tell the folks who want to help you from those who want to profit from your failures. As the PO tells our lead, “I’m gonna make a law-abiding citizen outta you, even if it kills you – which it probably will”. How one reacts to that indifference will reveal a lot about them. If nothing else, the anger will be felt front start-to-finish.

AZTLÁN’s world premiere runs through July 13 at Magic Theatre in the Fort Mason Center, SF. Tickets and further info here.

The Last Goat world premiere by Central Works

If there’s one thing (among many) for which Stephen Sondheim deserves credit, it’s the way Into the Woods reimagined the relationship between Rapunzel and the Witch who holds her captive. Traditionally, the latter is portrayed as an envious jailer who wants to deprive the world of a great beauty. Through Sondheim and James Lapine’s more empathetic eyes, The Witch is reimagined as a parent who knows the world’s dangers all too well, and has a parent’s natural urge to protect her child from those dangers.

A similar dynamic is on display is Gary Graves’ The Last Goat (world premiere through July 27 at the Berkeley City Club), in which overprotective Melina (Jan Zvaifler) knows the evil outside of their isolated Greek island. As such, one can’t really blame her for hoping her grand-daughter, Kori (Liris Robles), will find contentment there on the island. But Kori isn’t dumb: She knows that there’s a world out there to explore, and she knows that their once-plentiful island’s resources are dwindling: What was once a large herd of livestock is down to one last goat.

Complicating things further is the arrival of shipwrecked soldier Nikolis (Andre Amarotico). He claims to be the son of a wealthy man from Mykonos, and his tales of the bustling metropolis are music to Kori’s ears. Of course, Melina won’t let Kori go without a fight.

Say this for writer-director Gary Graves (Central Works’ AD): you’ll find very few who do so much with so little. The set of The Last Goat consists of just two stone benches. The props are a copper pitcher, three goblets, and a foot-and-a-half-long sword. Yet, with only those at his disposal (plus, some creatively modern and ancient costumes by Tammy Berlin), Graves has crafted an absolutely enthralling chamber play set in Ancient Greece. There’s almost an Edward Albee-like claustrophobic tension amongst our trio that finds us, the audience, unable to choose fidelity to any one character. All are passionate, all are liars, all are empathetic in how they feel trapped. It makes for a gripping 80 minutes of drama that’s near-impossible to turn away from.

Although this opening-weekend performance wasn’t one of the COVID-safe shows (July 5, 13, 19, and 27), there were a good number of masks in the intimate performance space. In fact, the woman behind me told her companion about how new COVID symptoms terrify her. My Aranet4’s CO² readings peaked around 1,134ppm, dropping down to 737ppm by the final bow (what with the courtyard doors opening and closing regularly).

The Last Goat is almost deceptively apocalyptic in its tone, even concluding with a gallows tone as someone asks “What now?” Contemporary headlines being what they are, one can relate. To the credit of Graves and his trio, they deliver a night of theatre work seeking out. Hopefully, it won’t be anyone’s last.

THE LAST GOAT’s world premiere runs through July 27 at the Berkeley City Club. Tickets and further info here.