Traveling through the poetry of Luis Alfaro

From the moment you enter the theater to see Luis Alfaro's The Travelers, it's clear you're dealing with the work of a poet.

The stage is filled by three evocative mounds of dirt that are sprinkled with red prayer candles. Above us, a sky filled with simple bare-bulb chandeliers. Downstage, and surrounded by this fertile setting, is a lone clawfoot bathtub spattered with either mud or blood — we don't know which — and if you look closely there appears to be a naked man. 

The stage is a bit like the tantalizing opening lines of a poem filled with symbols you can't wait to unpack. It's important to enter into this space as you would a piece of poetry — open to possibility and not too rigidly stuck to the order or reason of things. If you grab onto some threads of this play too tightly, it will unravel and disappoint.  

The simple setting of this play is an order of Carthusian monks in the Central Valley, off the 99. The order is crumbling as much from doing without as from issues within. The Archdiocese is absent. The men, or what's left of them, are left to fend for themselves. This sanctuary has become something of a prison.

The Travelers echos the men trapped in one of Mr. Alfaro's other plays, Oedipus, El Rey, which is set in an actual prison. You feel the same sensitivity to men let down by a world that didn't know quite what to do with them. With fathers incapable of taking care of them and mothers who abandoned them even while offering them everything. 

Here the monks are archetypes drawn with such sensitive specificity that they all but merge with the actors playing them. Their struggles are no less profound. The catalyst for the drama is the shocking arrival of an injured man on the order's doorstep. The presence of this needy, wounded stranger creates, like any good catalyst, a crisis of order and a profound call that questions not just the faith of these brothers but their very purpose.

The beauty of a piece of powerful poetry is that it's always talking about more than just the literal meaning of the words.  Here, on stage, the poetry and story are so compelling that you fall into it — wanting answers from the story about the transformation of these men and the journey of their wounded souls. That's both a success and a pitfall. Mr. Alfaro gives us enough to crave the story but not enough to freely join in the leap of faith as if our love of the story is somehow unrequited.

This challenge is most present in the theater as you're watching it. Like a good poem, it's how it echoes in your mind after the show where the play truly takes flight.

Mr. Alfaro is writing of our time and about our order that is crumbling in search of faith and wise leaders. His 'brothers' onstage are grappling with what to do next and what they truly believe in — as we all do when our worlds are challenged and seem destined to crumble. This questioning among the stunning images, beautiful monologues, and clever jokes about Costco rotisserie chicken will haunt you and buoy you long after you leave the theater.

Don't miss this chance to enter into Mr. Alfaro's poetry and travel among this poetic world.

The Travelers plays at LATC in downtown LA through October 15th.

This is Anthony Byrnes Opening the Curtain on LA Theater for KCRW.

The Geffen makes a bold choice: Tarrell Alvin McCraney

On Tuesday, the Geffen Playhouse announced their new artistic director, Tarrell Alvin McCraney.

If that name sounds familiar, his work as a playwright has been produced on a number of LA stages. Working backwards, Head of Passes played at the Mark Taper Forum in 2017. In 2014, his play Choir Boy played at the Geffen Playhouse. And before that, the intimate Fountain Theater produced both The Brothers Size and In the Red and Brown Water.

Looking back, I'll quote my review of the Geffen's production of Choir Boy from October 2014: 

"Mr. McCraney allows Pharus [the central character of Choir Boy] to reveal the complexity of each of the characters knowing that like in a choir, the single voice is only one part of the harmony.

That's sophisticated playwrighting and it’s what's won Mr. McCraney such high praise and accolades for a young playwright. This is a play to see and a playwright to watch.

Three quick thoughts:

First, lucky LA theatergoers already know Mr. McCraney's work from two lauded productions at the Fountain Theater: The Brothers Size and In the Red and Brown Water. Here's a wonderful example of how LA's theater ecosystem, large and small, could work together — connecting a broader audience from across the city to a playwright's work.

Second, casting. It's a bit of a mysterious art and when we say 'great casting' we're often just saying the acting was good. If you want to see really great casting — see Choir Boy.

Finally, the Geffen is quietly, consistently finding a powerful voice. Long known more for its stunt casting than its artistic vision, the Geffen's plays are starting to speak to one another - and that's exciting."

Those words could serve as a prologue to the promise of Mr. McCraney as artistic director of the Geffen. It's a bold exciting choice for a theater that's been "long known more for its stunt casting than its artistic vision" and where, in 2021, playwright Dominique Morriseau pulled her play Paradise Blue from the Geffen stage citing harm to Black women artists. 

Could Mr. McCraney find both the grace and harmony of his plays, bringing together Los Angeles theater and the voice of a new generation of diverse playwrights?  It's a tall order, but in a moment where the Mark Taper Forum has ceded both the leadership and the stage to others, let's hope that Mr. McCraney seizes the opportunity and charts a bold, inclusive course.