‘Alba’ at Palm Beach Dramaworks: A Cuban Family Under Pressure

 

 

What a pleasure to see Alejandro Rodriguez’s Alba go from Dramaworks’ Perlberg Festival of New Plays to a fully staged production. It is a very personal and affecting drama, although it still feels like a work in progress. That, however, is how new plays develop, and being part of the process can be rewarding for playwrights and audiences alike.

 

Alba is set in unincorporated Miami in 2001 and was inspired by Federico García Lorca’s 1936 masterpiece, The House of Bernarda Alba. While the original features an all-female ensemble centered around five daughters, Rodriguez’s adaptation reduces the family to three sisters. He also makes a significant departure by adding a grandson, “the Poet,” who narrates the play, uncovers buried family secrets, and tries to see the women as more than their ostensible stereotypes, revealing them as layered, fully realized individuals.

 

The playwright wanted to take another look at Lorca. He has always loved Lorca’s plays but found their productions “all mood, very heavy and dense.” Rodriguez brings the story back home, from Spain to South Florida by way of Cuba.

 

Drawing on Lorca’s dramatic structure while establishing his own voice, Rodriguez infuses the adaptation with a visceral quality informed by personal experience and insight into the Cuban immigrant’s plight, particularly that of women. Rodriguez’s passion resonates personally with my wife and me.  Some of the dialogue is in Spanish, but it is understandable in context and lends the play authenticity.

 

Rodriguez doesn't bring the play all the way up to the present. Instead, he sets it at the beginning of this century, a dramatically useful transitional moment when new technology was beginning to intrude on an older world but had not yet become the ubiquitous presence it is today.

 

At the play’s center is Alba, a fierce Cuban matriarch fighting to maintain control of her working-class household in the face of that technology, unpaid debts, and a suspicious suitor. Maggie Bofill makes her a compellingly controlling figure, while allowing glimpses of the humanity beneath her formidable exterior.

 

Maggie Bofill as Alba

The play opens in the aftermath of the funeral of Alba’s second husband. Alba lays down the law: her daughters will observe the proper decorum of mourning, receive guests, and remain in mourning until she releases them. Otherwise, what would the neighbors think? Alba is obsessed with protecting the family’s reputation, a recurring theme that governs much of what follows.

 

The family home is practically another character in the play. It is multigenerational, a repository of family history, and a prison as well. “It all begins with that pink house,” the Poet observes. Alba makes her position unmistakable when she tells her daughters, “This is my house!”

 

Her three daughters respond to their mother’s authority in different ways, sometimes finding common ground and sometimes driving one another apart. Their relationships with one another alternate between competition and affection.

 

Monica Quintero, Barbara Bonilla, Diana Garle, Dayana Morales, Maggie Bofill, Gianna DiGregorio

The youngest, Adela, is the rebel, flaunting the traditions that bind her family. She is the modern woman, played by Diana Garle with defiant passion. Garle is the only member of the cast who has appeared at Dramaworks before; the other actors are making their PBD debuts. Adela feels trapped while her classmates travel and go to concerts. She, meanwhile, is stuck listening to “Father Morales’ homilies.”

 

The middle sister, Amelia, is the smart one, and what else, she’s in therapy. Played by Gianna DiGregorio Rivera, Amelia brings a more reflective voice to the family conflict. She articulates a central dilemma of the immigrant experience: “You think Mom chose to be here? You don't think she’d prefer to be back in Cuba with her cousins and aunts?” Is Amelia simply making excuses for her mother, or does she understand something her sisters don’t? Her perspective adds another dimension to the family struggle, even as she gets caught up in the competition among the sisters.

 

Gianna DiGregorio, Barbara Bonilla, Dayana Morales

The eldest, Angie, is 29 and played by Dayana Morales. Her deep religious convictions and fear of becoming an old maid have left her vulnerable. She is engaged to Roman, the son of a neighbor, who turns out to be interested in more than her affections. He has his eye on her eventual inheritance from her biological father, Alba’s first husband, which is a source of tension in its own right. The stage is set for a family struggle in which each daughter tries, in her own way, to resist Alba’s controlling personality.

 

Beyond the four central women, three other characters help fill in the picture.

 

Barbara Bonilla plays Yolanda, Alba’s childhood friend. Bonilla brings considerable humor to the role, including some memorable physical comedy. Yolanda also serves as a voice of reason and a buffer between Alba and her daughters, though she too remains under Alba’s spell. Recalling Alba as a young woman, she says affectionately, “Alba was one of the best salseras in all of La Habana.”

 

Yolanda offers a glimpse of a different Alba, allowing us to see the matriarch as something more than the tyrant she has become. The play also hints that the two women shared more than friendship, although that possibility is never fully explored. Yolanda is one of the production’s most engaging characters, thanks in large part to Bonilla’s sparkling performance

 

Then there is Josefina, Alba’s mother and the girls’ grandmother, or “abuela.” Suffering from dementia, she is a link to the past and its buried secrets, a kind of truth teller who reveals what the family would rather leave unspoken. Mary Lou Simo brings considerable pathos to the role, although I found the character’s function in the larger drama less clear. Perhaps this is something to consider as the play develops further.

 

Gladys, played by Monica Quintero, is a healthcare worker from Honduras to whom Alba always seems to owe money. Although hers is a smaller role, she delivers one of the play’s bluntest lines: “We [in Honduras] did not know the type of unhappiness that I have seen in this house.” Her portrayal of a beleaguered caretaker made us keenly feel her exasperation.

 

Finally, there is the unnamed Poet, the playwright’s stand-in, who breaks the fourth wall and frames the story as a memory play. He is Adela’s son, conceived during her affair with Roman, and his presence allows the family history to be examined from a distance, even as he remains emotionally implicated in it. Matthew Ferro has the challenging task of making this personal journey believable, giving voice to Rodriguez’s perspective while also conveying the pain, regret, and tragedy of the story’s conclusion.

 

At the heart of the conflict is Adela’s love for Roman, who is engaged to her older half-sister, Angie. Along the way, however, the play sometimes falls back on familiar, even stereotypical, observations. “It’s such a cruel joke being born a woman,” Amelia observes, a sentiment that speaks to the limitations imposed on the daughters by their mother, their culture, and their circumstances.

 

Matthew Ferro as The Poet

The play also offers a glimpse of the digital world as it was emerging at the turn of the millennium. When Alba learns that naked pictures of a neighbor’s daughter have appeared online, her incredulous response is, “On the computer?” Computer pornography was hardly new even then, but the exchange seems almost quaint today, when artificial intelligence can generate images that never existed in the first place. The Poet also reveals that his grandmother had an older brother who committed suicide because he was gay, another family secret that exposes the destructive power of shame.

 

For all its familiar elements, Alba has much to offer. Its examination of family, cultural identity, repression, and the immigrant experience gives the story contemporary resonance, even as it remains rooted in an earlier time. The acting throughout is another of the production's strengths.

 

Director KJ Sanchez keeps the play moving at a good clip, maintaining the audience’s interest. As the denouement approaches, however, a couple of choices left me wondering whether the staging or the script might benefit from further consideration.

 

In a confrontation between Adela and Amelia, the middle sister threatens to expose Adela’s affair with Roman to Angie. The exchange takes place almost entirely offstage, in the laundry room at stage left, making it difficult for a substantial portion of the audience to see and, at times, hear an important confrontation. The concluding scene, too, did not have the emotional impact I had anticipated. Given the weight of what has preceded it, I had hoped for a stronger response.

 

As a fully staged production, though, Alba has much to recommend it, including some effective technical work. Brian O’Keefe’s costume design establishes the characters and the period while providing considerable variety. Alba’s deepest black mourning ensemble, militaristic and starched in the opening scene, exposes her personality before she speaks a word.

 

Robert Aguilar makes his PBD debut as lighting designer. Interestingly, the program identifies him as a specialist in working with new plays, which made me think about the particular challenges of lighting a production without a road map provided by previous stagings. Aguilar also views lighting as a narrative tool. At several crucial moments, the stage shifts abruptly from full illumination to partial darkness, reflecting the changing nature of the conflict. The effect is striking, if occasionally unexpected.

 

Roger Arnold’s sound design also makes its presence felt, with outside sounds entering at key moments, including when doors open and when shots are fired. I have deliberately avoided discussing the latter in detail to avoid spoilers.

 

Tanya Orellana, also making her PBD debut, has created a serviceable and visually attractive set. For me, however, the design did not fully convey the cultural environment or the strained economic circumstances of the family.

 

So, if you want to experience the development of a new play and immerse yourself in a cultural world that is perhaps different from your own, Alba offers an engaging opportunity, even if not every element is fully realized. There is much to learn from the world Rodriguez has created, and the production offers plenty to discuss afterward.

 

As Angie says, “We either love each other or we don’t.” That question may linger in your mind, too.

 

 

All photographs except for the stage and program by Coastal Click Photography

The PBD Academy's The World Goes ’Round: Broadway Begins Here

  

My face still hurts less than 24 hours after seeing The World Goes 'Round, the acclaimed revue built around the music of John Kander and Fred Ebb.

 

Why does my face hurt?

 

Never before in all my years of seeing musicals and playing the songs from the Great American Songbook that emerged from many of those musicals have I smiled so much, even tearing up at times to the point that I couldn't tell whether it was laughter born of the joy knowing the future of such music is assured, or whether I was mourning the passing of a time now seemingly threatened by the rapid erosion of so many of the cultural and political values I have cherished throughout my life.

 

I would like to think it is the former, and I will concentrate on the joy here. In full disclosure, I was not prepared to write a review of this show, failing to bring my trusted notebook and pen. I expected a superb student performance. Instead, I found myself watching a production that, in every important respect, matched the professionalism of many musicals Ann and I have seen on Broadway and locally.

 

So, here is my reaction to this production. Attention must be paid!

 

This is the culmination of Palm Beach Dramaworks' summer Academy, an intensive training program that offers aspiring young actors and stage managers the rare opportunity to work under professional conditions. Guided by the company's Director of Education and Community Engagement, Gary Cadwallader, the students rehearse in the same theater, with many of the same artistic standards and production values that distinguish Palm Beach Dramaworks' regular season. The result is far more than a school production; it is an opportunity for exceptionally talented young performers to test themselves in an environment where excellence is expected.

 

Pictured clockwise from bottom, Tristan Dominquez, Kayla Brown, Max Leighton, Danica Slavin, Bella Catania, Photo by Jason Nuttle

Cadwallader not only selected The World Goes 'Round, but directed it as well, and his directorial hand is evident throughout. Rather than telling a single story, the revue, conceived by Scott Ellis, Susan Stroman, and David Thompson, seamlessly weaves together nearly two dozen songs by Kander and Ebb—from familiar classics such as Cabaret, Chicago, and New York, New York to lesser-known gems—creating a showcase of the remarkable range, wit, humor, and emotional depth of one of Broadway's greatest songwriting partnerships.

 

When it opened Off-Broadway in March 1991, Ellis was the director and Stroman the choreographer. Her original choreography is faithfully reproduced here by Cadwallader, making such amusing numbers as the ode to “Sara Lee” baked goods and the delightful "Coffee in a Cardboard Cup" thoroughly inventive and memorable.

 

Assistant director Elizabeth Dimon, another Palm Beach Dramaworks veteran, also deserves recognition. An accomplished actress and singer herself, she clearly helped these young performers understand that acting a song is every bit as important as singing it. Brian O'Keefe's costumes added immeasurably to the fun, particularly in the number "Class," the delicious duet that appeared in the stage version of Chicago but was inexplicably omitted from the film. That number reduced my smile to tears of laughter.

 

Roger Arnold's sound and projection designs were seamlessly integrated into the production, while Genny Wynn's lighting consistently drew the eye exactly where it belonged. Kudos, too, to musical director Lisa Stephens, who played the keyboard along with a five-piece orchestra. These are among the professionals whose talents helped elevate this production while giving the young performers the support they deserved.

 

Having played the scores from many Broadway musicals on the piano myself, I couldn't help but recognize similar sensibilities in the music and lyrics that occasionally recalled Stephen Sondheim's contribution to the Broadway musical and even Jacques Brel's to the French chanson. There are songs throughout the Kander and Ebb canon that sometimes channel the spirit of those masters. As far as songwriting teams are concerned, Kander and Ebb deserve to be remembered in the same breath as Rodgers and Hammerstein. As a revue, The World Goes 'Round stands comfortably alongside Side by Side by Sondheim and Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris, both of which, not too coincidentally, Palm Beach Dramaworks produced in its salad days before occupying the Don and Ann Brown Theatre.

 

Here I am raving about the content and professionalism of the production, but let's hear it for the student performers: Kayla Brown, Bella Catania, Tristan Dominquez, Max Leighton (all from Dreyfoos School of the Arts), and Danica Slavin (Cardinal Newman High School). What remarkable talent, discipline, and dedication. I only hope I am around long enough to follow their professional careers. It is impossible to single out the individual virtues of each performance because they functioned so beautifully as an ensemble. Their impressive vitae, along with the complete song list, can be found in the photographs from program below.

 

If there is a criticism to be made, some might argue that the program is too long. I found myself thinking just the opposite. There are enough wonderful Kander and Ebb songs left untouched that one could easily imagine The World Goes 'Round, Part II.

 

Thank you, Palm Beach Dramaworks and the young members of The Academy, for bringing tears of joy—and hope for the future.

 

‘Vineland Place’ at Palm Beach Dramaworks: A Literary Thriller of Secrets and Deception

 

 

This is the world premiere of an intriguing play from Palm Beach Dramaworks’ Perlberg Festival of New Plays: Vineland Place by Steven Dietz. If the playwright’s name sounds familiar, it may be because Dietz has long been one of the country’s most produced dramatists, with some forty plays to his credit. This latest work sits squarely within his wheelhouse: part murder mystery, part psychological duel, wrapped in a highly stylized production where every theatrical element contributes to the whole. Look to the shadows, the pauses, the sidelong glances, and the accumulating unease to find both the meaning and the pleasure of this play.

 

It begins innocently enough. A young writer, Henry Sanders, is hired by Victoria Brody, widow of novelist Fenton Brody, a one-book literary phenomenon whose lone success, Sheridan Road, became a cult classic, “a thriller wrapped around the harrowing emotional drama of a family.” A publisher, having paid a substantial advance, was eagerly awaiting the sequel, Vineland Place, until Brody died in a nine-story fall from the couple’s penthouse apartment (“the best thing that could possibly happen on the eve of publication”).

 

Victoria promises the publisher the nearly completed manuscript and hires Sanders to finish it. He must work inside the apartment where the notes and manuscript remain, taking nothing home at night, even signing an NDA before beginning. Nothing suspicious here, right? Sanders appears the ideal choice, idolizing Brody as he does. You might say he belongs to the cult’s vanguard.

 

This is a two-hander, and I cannot think of a more ideal actor for Victoria Brody than Anne-Marie Cusson, who excelled in another memorable PBD two-hander nearly a decade ago, Collected Stories, likewise a play with writing and authorship at its heart. That production remains one of my favorite Dramaworks offerings from that period, in no small part because of Cusson’s performance.

Christopher Ryan Cowan and Anne-Marie Cusson; Jason Nuttle Photography

 

Opposite her is PBD newcomer Christopher Ryan Cowan as the eager, star-struck Henry Sanders, hired to complete the unfinished novel. What could possibly go wrong? Plenty.

 

What begins as a seemingly straightforward story about a young writer finishing the work of a dead literary idol gradually becomes something far more layered and psychologically combative. Dietz turns the relationship between Sanders and Victoria into an increasingly dangerous duel of shifting sympathies.

 

This is where the acting of Cusson and Cowan truly shines, the two performers handling these reversals like a finely tuned piece of counterpoint. Director J. Barry Lewis makes the most of these high-wire moments through precise pacing, furtive looks, and carefully measured pauses that allow the tension to build layer by layer. He understands how to transform what at first resembles a sophisticated drawing room drama into a genuine murder mystery. Clever dialogue and concealed secrets become dangerous weapons, and Lewis capitalizes on every opportunity the script affords him.

 

The play demands close attention from its audience. Some of the necessary back-story must be explained rather than dramatized directly, occasionally brushing against the fourth wall, and the intricacies of the plot matter greatly. Still, Dietz keeps these mechanics moving smoothly, and this cast and production team seem particularly adept at making those transitions feel effortless. One can easily imagine Vineland Place adapted into a Netflix miniseries where some of the back-story might unfold more expansively onscreen.

 

Anne-Marie Cusson and Christopher Ryan Cowan; Jason Nuttle Photography

Cusson delivers another bravura performance. Is Victoria seductive, manipulative, vulnerable, or victimized? Cusson walks that line throughout the evening, sometimes bewildering the audience, sometimes delighting it, often doing both simultaneously. Cowan proves an effective foil. Was Henry hired merely to finish a manuscript, or perhaps for companionship by a woman widowed only six months earlier, amid the wine, candlelight, and increasingly suggestive atmosphere? Or was there another motive altogether? Cowan balances defensiveness and aggression effectively, his character alternately powerless and empowered depending on the shifting terrain of the scene.

 

Anne Mundell’s scenic design hangs heavily in a film noir, “bad-decisions-that-make-great-stories” atmosphere perfectly suited to the play. The upper-class Boston apartment, perched on the ninth floor of a building where the elevator goes only to the eighth, becomes part of the mystery itself. Watch carefully: even that seemingly incidental detail carries implications. The set proves ideal for bringing together both the elegance of drawing room drama and the menace of noir.

 

Costume designer Brian O'Keefe has ample opportunity to chart Victoria Brody’s shifting personas, from a striking red pantsuit to a seductive kimono-style jacket that lends a bohemian allure to her appearance. Henry Sanders, by contrast, is appropriately subdued in utilitarian young-writer attire, complete with a weathered leather tote bag: nothing flashy, nothing memorable.

 

The lighting design by Paul Black deepens the atmosphere as the evening progresses, gradually moving the play from drawing room sophistication toward full noir sensibility, the illumination dimming into low light and candle glow.

 

PBD newcomer Robertson Witmer provides both sound design and original music. The opening music is somber and almost liturgical, with echoes of Erik Satie in the piano passages, at times underscored by droning sustained notes that quietly suggest dread beneath the civilized surface.

 

Projection designer Adam J. Thompson reminds us that while this is indeed a murder mystery, writing itself remains at the center of the play. Letters occasionally stream across the set, coalescing into words and phrases — including the ominous “I know what you’ve done” — while even the ellipsis takes on unexpected significance.

 

And so the play finally arrives at its central question: which secrets have been deliberately withheld, and which thoughts remain merely unfinished? “One of us is smart enough to pull this off,” a character observes, and the audience spends much of the evening wondering which one it is. The answer leads to a satisfying and memorable denouement. This is a thriller very much worth seeing.

 

Vineland Place; Jason Nuttle Photography