By Alex Rendon
By Monica McGivern
By Michele Eve Sandberg
By Alex Rendon
By Monica McGivern
By Ian Witlen
By Christina Mendenhall
By Michele Eve Sandberg
Crack open a playwright whose career has just gotten under way, and you'll more than likely find a dreamer wrestling with the ghost of Anton Chekhov. American theater festivals are littered with reinventions of The Three Sisters, the Chekhov classic in which characters saddled with longing speak of the day they'll leave their provincial drawing rooms and reinvent themselves in Moscow. Perhaps only a Cuban-American playwright raised in the shadow of the Soviet Union could invent as charming a reversal of Chekhov's dilemma as the one presented in A Park in Our House. In his intriguing new play, now receiving its South Florida premiere at Manalapan's Florida Stage, Cuban-born, Miami-schooled Nilo Cruz puts his characters in a sitting room from which they know there's no route to Moscow. And yet he gives them a ticket to transcendence. When this particular Cuban family can't go to Russia, Cruz brings Moscow to them.
Specifically he delivers one Dimitri Yefimovich Khrushchov, a botanist from the Soviet Union, who comes to stay with the Bustamante family as part of a government-sponsored cultural exchange. Dimitri actually lives in a small village outside of Moscow, but as far as the Bustamantes are concerned, he may as well be Nikita Khruschev's first cousin. Cruz's reshaping of the Chekhov prototype is charming; even more so is the evocative staging the play gets at the hands of guest director Benny Sato Ambush. Less satisfying, however, is the playwright's attempt to nail down the situation's dramatic possibilities. In this case, the tale of the Communist Who Came to Dinner leaves us hungering for more.
Set in Havana in 1970 (the year the playwright, then age ten, left the island with his family and landed in Miami), A Park in Our House focuses on an extended family group that includes Hilario and Ofelina, a middle-aged couple who have taken in their teenage niece Pilar and nephew Camilo, who is mute. The children's cousin, Fifo, an amateur photographer who cuts sugar cane for a living, also lives with them.
Like most families, this one struggles against the boredom of daily life, made particularly harsh by Castro-run Cuba, where necessities like soap are in short supply. The title refers, on one level, to the lap-size model of a city park that Hilario has constructed as a diversion. A tiny symbol of civic utopia and an emblem of the hopes and dreams of each family member (one gives it a rather salacious connotation), the notion of the park also underscores the power of Dimitri's arrival, as though he were providing the spiritual regeneration the family desperately craves.
At one point Dimitri actually does bring armfuls of herbs and medicinal flowers into the house, the better to help Ofelina repair the dry bed of her marriage. She seduces the distracted Hilario with jasmine, but not before Dimitri is bedded by the young Pilar. (The issue of Pilar's age is somewhat confusing in this production. Actress Greta Sanchez Ramirez appears to be about twelve years old at first, making her advances toward Dimitri a tad unsettling. Just how old the character is supposed to be is anybody's guess.) As for Dimitri, he can't conceive of the importance the family places on his visit. He confesses that he'd originally wanted to go to Brazil to study tropical plants; he's only in Cuba because, after years of waiting for a travel visa, he drew a ticket to Havana.
Much like Dimitri, I couldn't quite grasp what Cruz had in mind for his characters in A Park in Our House. On the one hand, some of the play's power lies in the notion that their struggles aren't completely spelled out. Working with an impressionistic palette, Cruz offers a landscape of unfettered human emotions, ranging from Camilo's muteness to Ofelina's dream of growing huge quantities of hair. At times these folks don't want just to go to the proverbial Moscow; they want to leave their bodies. But, for the most part, the symbols in the play never make a statement; they simply remain vague and unconnected. The effect is like watching someone else's dream.
As dramatic characters go, the Bustamantes are a strange bunch. And, because they're so distant from each other, it's tough to get close to them. Hilario and Ofelina, your typical ill-matched partners, are the most well-defined characters, their conflict with each other recognizable. But it's tough to latch on to the kids, orphans whose emotional relationships with aunt and uncle are distended. As for cousin Fifo, he seems more like a convenient plot device than someone dramatically necessary to the story. With that said, he's well used by the director, who stages a spunky pantomime in which Fifo mournfully pores over a photo album. As he holds up each snapshot, the other characters strike poses that illustrate indelible moments of family history, which otherwise go unexplored.
Though it's set in Cuba in 1970, A Park in Our House isn't about Cuban politics, and there's really no reason it should be. A cast of characters wanting more out of life is enough to drive any plot. But the Cuban setting does add texture to the story, an oppressive cloud that hangs over the Bustamante family. Besides, if a Cuban-American in his thirties wants to tell a story about his family, it only makes sense that the Castro regime would color the characters' behaviors. Included in the script are allusions to everyday Cuban realities: food obtained from the black market, meaningless bureaucratic jobs, limited opportunities to leave the island.