‘Chicano Playwrights Showcase 2026’ from GXR Productions
—Jan Farrington
The program begins with Busted Open, a one-act play from LA-based Damian Alejandro Arteaga, recently recognized as an O’Neill Playwright Conference semii-finalist for his play The Hole—and on the side, a writer of interactive gaming experiences.
The setup couldn’t be simpler: it’s a family drama set in a Mexican neighborhood in Los Angeles, and playwright Arteaga brings it off with an un-fussy but lovely amount of emotion, humor, and warmth. Father Pedro Fredy Edward Quiroga), mother Daniella (Lisa Rodrigues), and daughter Gabriela (Jessica Lopez) meet in the family’s popular piñata shop; it’s Gabby’s first visit home since she went away to college.
Arteaga creates a believable family language, and the actors do a fine job of creating an instant sense of connection and love (even rocky love) among the characters. We feel as if we’re quiet customers in the piñata shop, waiting for a birthday special-order to be stuffed with treats.
Gabriela’s come home with a new slant on her college plans, one that embraces the Mexican heritage she’s left out of her life. With new pride in her heart, she’s surprised her Papá is upset. He has his reasons, movingly stated; so does the daughter. Mother Daniella loves them both, and cleverlly uses humor, hunger, and more to distract them from fighting. “You’re as Mexican as tacos,” she assures her daughter, hugging her hard—and giving the fish-eye to Pedro.
How will this story—achingly common to most of this country’s long list of immigrant groups and cultures—come out? In scarcely more than 20 minutes, Damian Alejandro Arteaga gives us a satisfying three-actor meal—and the ending is pure dessert, sweet as candy Busted Open from a pinata.
All the Things She Never Said is the evening’s second one-act. Written by Sophie Goldstein, a Jewish-Chicano writer also from LA, this heart-felt play takes a hard look at a notorious social issue, though it’s a compelling human story as well. Goldstein never skimps in her focus on how policy and prejudice changes lives—sometimes for generations. Set in the “then and now” of Los Angeles, All the Things follows two grown daughters (Jennifer Manriquez as Lupita, Stephanie Bravo Vordokas as Maribel) looking through their deceased mothers’ papers and memorabilia. (Mother Monserrat is played by Jessica Lopez, father Julio by Jorge Martinez.) In the sorting, they discover events they’ve never heard about, and a mother with sorrows and courage kept hidden.
In the “then” scenes (alternating with “now” at opposite side of the wide stage), we meet young Monserrat and Julio, newly married, remembering their courting days, talking about the children they’ll have. (He wants more; she wants two.) In the hospital, Monserrat is in labor (and Julio at work) when a Nurse (Persona Del Dia) intimidates her into signing a form.
The plot is based on real-life events that changed the lives of young women decades ago, and a series of lawsuits that eventually got new laws and some justice. The lawyer who kept working on these cases was Antonia Hernandez (played by Angela D. Stidham), and the Judge (whose verbatim statements we find appalling) is played by Robert G. Shores.
Goldstein’s play draws in the daughter’s own lives and decisions, and how the events of Monserrat’s life affected the entire family. Did their young parents come to terms with what happened? Can the daughters re-claim their own relationship? It’s a good trick for a playwright to effectively mix fact and fiction, hard history with the tender, tough complications of family life.
After an intermission, playwright Kevin Velasquez’ Reverencia completes the second half of the evening. Velasquez is a DFW local—a long-time educator (one of the theatre directors at the Grand Prairie Fine Arts Academy) and actor.
Performed in a poetical and at times dream-like style visually reminiscent of commedia dell’ arte (and lit by characters with hand-held “spotlights” of a very modern cast) the play is set in Spain, within a small traveling circus in the unsettled years after World War II. Though exotic visual distract us, this turns out to be a family story as well, with angelic son Pepito (Juan Emanuel Rivera) and troubled, jealous brother Emilio (Kahil Muro) in a rather Shakespearean battle of brothers, to the distress of their Ringmaster father (Robert G. Shores). “The light has always been yours, hasn’t it?” says Emilio to his favored brother. The circus is peopled with clowns and others, most labeled “payaso” or “payasa” depending on gender. (It’s a Spanish word meaning “clown” or “goofball”—and this IS a circus—but notably, none of Velasquez’ several so-named characters tend toward solemnity and darkness, or comedy.)
The plot jumps forwardly abruptly, and the much-loved Pepito falls dead (poison, perhaps). All mourn, but he is given a short span of borrowed life, enouraged by La Payasa Negra (Mary Muro) not to waste his added time. “So, there you are. Smell the flowers, eat a pie—or wrap your fingers around the throats of those that wronged you. But don’t let us sway you one way or the other.”
Shakespeare never put “You got 20 minutes left, take it or leave it” that baldly, but I like it.
The play’s language is ornate and sometimes obscure, but has a rhythm that pulls us along, trying to decipher what’s happening with Pepito, Emilio, their adoptive father (that’s a story in itself), and the rescued folk who are members of the circus. I was struck by (and now use to my own advantage!) this line: “The world thinks the circus is a place for curiosities, but life contains the things we truly cannot explain.” I can’t truly say I had entirely figured out the play and the plot by the end—but it was a visually and verbally compelling journey all the way.
WHEN: September 3-6,026
NOTE: The three-play program repeats September 4, 5, and 6 at 7:30, with two Saturday events: a Playwrights Workshop (with Rob Bosquez) at noon, and Staged Readings from two new playwrights at 3:00 p.m.
WHERE: SSG venue, 3623 Decatur Ave., Fort Worth
WEB: Xgeo@aol.com or on Facebook page George X Rodriguez
