Lydia

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

As a World Premiere, Lydia has to be one the most intense, powerful, important plays produced in the past 100 years.

Onahoua Rodriguez as Ceci and Stephanie Beatriz as Lydia in the Denver Center Theatre Company world premiere production of Lydia. Photo by Terry Shapiro

Not because it shocks.

Playwright Octavio Solis refused to censor his characters, allowing them to speak honestly and openly about social issues few want to think about, much less face.

The incredible characters created by Director Juliette Carrillo and the multi-talented cast transforms the Ricketson stage into a magical time machine of a struggling 1970 El Paso family.

Bravo to Solis’ courage!

Bravo to the Denver Center Theatre Company for commissioning the award-winning playwright to write Lydia, and stand by his final product!

Bravo to Carrillo and the brilliant cast for the intense, honest comprehension telescoped by this family.

Wouldn’t you know it would take an artist to unveil social issues desperately needing to be addressed?

Border control is one thing.

Illegal entry into the United States is another.

Domestic violence gets punished with horrific responses without the rhymes and reasons being addressed.

Deceitful lying, cover-up is so much a part of human nature it’s accepted as a norm.

The issue of brain damaged individuals hearing, thinking, and making decisions trapped in a body that doesn’t work, gets ignored.

But what about physical needs such as the sexual drive? Our society pretends it doesn’t exist.

It constantly amazes me the power Queen Victoria holds over this country, with her Puritanical approach. We the land of the free and brave are more afraid of our sexuality than we are of terrorists, or war. We act like it doesn’t exist at the same time flaunt “sex” everywhere. Porn flourishes. Advertising insists sex appeal sells. It doesn’t matter if a movie star can act or not as long as they have sex appeal. (Of course, there are exceptions to the rule.) Sexuality is as much a part of human nature as is eating or sleeping. The needs are built into the system, but we don’t want to admit it, unless we can laugh at it, tease over it, poke fun at it, or flaunt it.

What? Brain damage people have a sexual drive? Why not? And why should that shock anyone?

Along comes Lydia. Magnificently, poetically written by Solis giving breathing room to a fictitious family. Desires unearthed and presented as they really are with all their warts, foibles, inconsistencies, violence, guilt, and fears.

Having Ceci speak eloquently, combining compassion and frustration, between scenes of action jars the mind to re-think brain damaged individuals. Her transformation from a beautiful eloquent young lady to an uncontrollable jerking body, a voice only able to make noises demanding constant attention, is one of the most awesome moments experienced on stage.

Omahoua Rodriguez embodies the brain damaged 15 year old with the awesome ability to reveal her inside thinking process. She taunts the question of how much can brain damaged people hear, how much do they understand, how much do they think? Frequently we say “nobody’s home”, but the play reveals another side that wants and needs to be paid attention to.

Ricardo Guitierrez wears the soul of Papa, Claudio. Laden with guilt, a night short order cook, he buries his eardrums in headphones listening to music to escape surrounding shadows. Violence overtakes him when there’s no way to dissolve his frustration.

Mama, Rosa tries desperately to keep her home glued together with a perspective covering everyone in her home and outside. Catalina Maynard’s depiction fills her very Being.

Carlo Alban lights up the stage as the younger brother, Misha, struggling to find his identity. Yes, Misha is a Russian name, a nickname for Mikhail Baryshnikov, the classical ballet artist who defected to the west in 1974. It is Misha, embedded with heightened sensitivity, in spite of being abused by Claudio, who has the audacity and courage to express unprecedented compassion toward Ceci at the very end of the play. The animated Misha owns a particular connection to Ceci threatened when Lydia, stunningly portrayed by Stephanie Beatriz, enters the picture.

Lydia, a magical stranger from Juarez exhibits an ability to interpret Ceci’s grunts and groans. Magical realism it’s called in the theatre world. Is that so difficult to imagine when other cultures reach deep within the human psyche with an ability to read signs?

Ceci now needs constant attention. Attention Rosa no longer has the time or energy to provide. Lydia’s perceptive powers allow her to interpret every sound Ceci makes winning the family’s confidence, including Misha. The emergence of Ceci’s white dress, Lydia insists she asked to wear, ignites a time bomb.

Angry, guilt-ridden with horrific boxed-in emotions, Rene, the older brother, emerges full-force from actor, Rene Millian.

Having served in the war, now a border patrol agent, Alvaro played with an arrogant heavy hand by Christian Barillas, strains the best friend relationship with Rene. Alvaro remains Ceci’s key love interest feeding frustrated complicated already strained emotions.

The issues throughout the play wondrously interact and intercept each other, flowing honestly and naturally throughout. Nothing is contrived. Nothing is forced to fit just because it is an issue that should be addressed. These people live with all of them day after day as a normal fabric of their lives. Along with the character development, the integration of the issues is what places this play in a category all by itself.

Antje Ellermann’s brilliant set design divides the house into areas without any need for the hint of walls. The characters depict their own isolation. Charles R. MacLeod reflects the intensity with his lighting design. So perfect is it, it is almost undetectable. Christal Weatherly’s costume design took her into 1970 El Paso Mexican tradition.

I lived in El Paso for two years, leaving for California August 1970. The cultural issue Solis’ characters live with, I knew well. They refer to Skyline Drive, a place I visited often for its spectacular view of El Paso, Juarez, and the surrounding desert. The greatest shock when I first arrived was seeing the Mighty Rio Grande River, read about in my youthful cowboy days, confined to a cement culvert. I had a maid from Juarez once a week costing only $5.00 a day. Suburban culture forbids me to pay her more.

Unfortunately and fortunately depending upon perspective, the last few minutes of Lydia will be the most remembered, and most talked about. Everything leading up to it hopefully will not become a blur.

Lydia raises several questions over the course of the play. Irresponsible teen-agers, a car accident leading to a deceitful cover up, a father guilt ridden over his beautiful daughter Ceci reduced to a vegetable, domestic violence brought on by guilt, fear, anxiety. A mother trying to hold her family together, a father who works at night as a short order cook, a younger brother searching out his identity, an older son riddled with his own lies and guilt becoming hard, cold, hiding within himself without success, a friend becoming a border patrol agent, and Lydia’s illegal entry into the U.S. in spite of her magical abilities.

Rather than reel over the shock, perhaps Lydia contains the magic to encourage honest inquisitive study accompanied with adequate discussion.

After the opening night production a woman walking up the aisle was heard to ask, “Why didn’t they warn us with a note on the tickets?” Along with announcing a World Premiere, the publicity said “shock time, not a play for kiddies.” The play doesn’t call for irresponsibility. It calls for paying attention and recognizing human needs. Maybe the kiddies should see it, with guided discussion. Not advocating anything. Only raising questions.

If Lydia isn’t nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, my system will experience shock waves greater than what any audience claims.