Theatre in Review: Mariquitas (Theatre for the New City)

	Liam Torres Photo: Sion Fullana

In the course of his long career, Eduardo Machado has examined modern Cuban history from a stunning variety of perspectives. In his latest work, Mariquitas, he comes up with an especially novel premise, examining the lives of gay men in modern-day Cuba -- the year is 2008 -- after the country's restrictive anti-homosexual laws have been relaxed.

Freedom is a relative thing, however. Much of the action unfolds in a gay guest house owned by Ramon, a noted theatre director, and run by Ricardo, his younger lover. The establishment caters to European sex tourists, chief among them Jose Maria, an aging Madrid accountant with lung cancer. Jose Maria visits the island for two weeks every year, enjoying the favors of Tito, whom he keeps on a year-round salary. (Euros go very, very far in Cuba's problematic economy.) Meanwhile, Ricardo is staging a play by Jacinto, a Spanish playwright and frequent visitor to Cuba who keeps the attractive young Cristobal on tap for those hot, tropical nights.

The irony is supreme: Living in a socialist economy, newly free to express their sexuality, Ricardo, Tito, and Cristobal must peddle their bodies for ready cash. Neither are they free of the constraints of Latino machismo; it goes without saying that they all have wives or female lovers and, by and large, they take the traditional male role in all their lovemaking. ("Everybody in Cuba is bisexual," says Cristobal, in many ways the most wised up of the trio.) Even so, strains are showing. Ricardo, who is kept on a tight financial leash by Ramon, has impregnated his provincial girlfriend; he wants to convert his relationship with Ramon into a business partnership in which he shares in the guest house's profits. Tito, grateful for the attention showered on by him Jose Maria, believes himself to be in a sort of love relationship -- but Jose Maria, who can no longer endure his illness, has arrived with enough morphine to put himself away forever. And, of course, if Jose Maria dies, the cash payments will stop.

Mariquitas offers some fascinating details of the lives of these rented lovers. An impromptu pizza party turns a little tense when Jacinto warns Cristobal to watch his weight; Cristobal, wary of the fuss Jacinto is making over the hot young actor starring in his play, has to comply. Ramon and Jacinto openly mock their boyfriends' lack of education to their faces. It is expected that the younger men will be available for group arrangements; when Tito wants to give Jose Maria a special treat, he brings in Ricardo for a little sex show. At the end of the day, Tito, Cristobal, and Ricardo often hang out at a cruising spot, offering themselves to the drivers passing by. A most telling tableau features Mariela Castro Espin, daughter of Raul and the sexologist who brought Cuba into the 21st century in matters sexual, seen making a triumphant speech at a gay pride rally, totally unaware of the unequal and often tawdry relationships all around her.

It is rich material and Mariquitas is alive to all the ironies embedded in it. Machado may love this material too well, however. At a running time of two hours and 45 minutes, the action dawdles and dallies. The facts of each relationship are stated repeatedly, and the slow pace and lack of tension prove fatal after a moderately intriguing first act. The author is also prone broadcasting his themes: "Everything for sale; that should be our slogan," says Ramon early on, unnecessarily spelling it out for us. Certain scenes seem to exist largely to induce someone to remove their clothes; Ricardo mysteriously plays an entire scene arguing with Ramon while sitting at a table in the nude. In the second act, we are made to see scenes from Jacinto's turgid play, which is about -- you guessed it -- a young male hustler. Even the most potentially dramatic sequence, when Jose Maria demands his fatal dose of morphine, falls flat.

This scene, like several others, suffers from Michael Domitrovich's leaden direction -- the scene changes are especially deadly -- and from a company of actors who often fail to deliver their lines with real conviction. (Given some of their lines, that's a tall order.) The actors are further hampered by having to play in a cavernous space that fights the play's intimate nature. Oddly enough, the best work is done by the two women in the cast: Ana Valle as a maid in the guest house, a former nurse who is drafted by Jose Maria to finish him off, and Begonya Plaza as Mariela, who doesn't want to see the truth of the characters' lives for fear of spoiling her heroic point of view.

The production values are fairly basic, with Mikiko Suzuki MacAdams' two-level set -- the second level containing an enormous bed -- Michael Bevins' authentic-seeming costumes, and Elizabeth Rhodes' play list of popular music for the scene changes, all getting the job done. Alexander Bartenieff's lighting design could use a few more instruments.

Mariquitas has such an interesting premise that it all but cries out to be reworked. If Machado could lose about 45 minutes and find a way to restructure the second act, it could be made to work. As it stands, it is like a hot day in the tropics, beset by torpor.--David Barbour