“American Mariachi,” a play now running at Red Bank’s Two River Theater, reminds us that mariachi music is a fount of culture, community, resistance and joy — not just for kitschy Mexican restaurants.
Set in the American Southwest during the 1970s, the show tells the story of a family in crisis that works toward healing through the soothing force of mariachi.
The family’s matriarch, Amalia (Maggie Bofill), is only slightly beyond middle age. But her mind is slipping away, and she struggles to recognize her daughter Lucha (Addie Morales) and husband Federico (Martín Solá). Federico works tirelessly to pay the bills with earnings from mariachi gigs, and Lucha hopes to find time to finish college. But her responsibility to look after her mother grows all-encompassing.
One night in a happenstance flash, Lucha discovers a mariachi song that brings her mother a fleeting moment of lucidity. This inspires Lucha to recruit her cousin Boli (Heather Velazquez) to start an all-female mariachi band to play that song and bring some joy to Amalia. That they have no instruments, musical skill, or other band members is no deterrent. The duo is determined to provide Amalia some solace.
The show plays out the fairly familiar lets-get-a-band-together-and-play-a-show trope. If you’ve seen “The Blues Brothers,” you know it well. Along the way, playwright José Cruz González spins a web of cultural and family history that gives “American Mariachi” considerable warmth. Lucha must turn to her musician godfather, Mino (Bobby Plasencia), for lessons. In the process she learns why he and her father haven’t spoken in years, and gradually pieces together her family’s past.
The song she is determined to learn turns out to be so much more than a song. And the stylings of mariachi turn out to be so much more than a familiar musical genre. Through Lucha’s journey, the show explores how mariachi transcends the smokey bars where Federico so often makes his living, providing durable and invaluable links to a vibrant cultural energy.
Under the direction of James Vásquez, the show locates and celebrates the vibrancy of the culture at its center. On a beautifully colorful set (Diggle), the show features regular mariachi performances (arrangements by Cynthia Reifler Flores, and performances by an excellent four-piece band), and acting that swings with ease from tense and poignant to goofy and fun. As the show’s focal points, Morales and Velazquez develop a strong unity of purpose as well as a fun juxtaposition between earnest Lucha and brash Boli. Bofill is a particular standout. Amalia spends most of the play mute and confused, but Bofill impressively projects the humanity that continues to churn inside this character. When given the chance in one scene to play an entirely different character, Bofill scene-stealingly hilarious.
The show might very well be at its best at the climax, when nearly the entire cast unites for a mariachi performance. It is a moment of community, celebration, joy and remembrance. As such, it captures the spirit of mariachi that González’s play insists flows through the veins of Mexican culture.