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03/30/2023 07:03 AMAdapting a classic play to another location, time, and culture often diminishes the original and emphasizes the dislocation. It works only a small percentage of the time; too often, it is forced, with too many incongruities, for an audience to believe it. Mojada–A Medea in Los Angeles, now at the Yale Rep through Saturday, April 1, succeeds in adapting the classic Greek tragedy.
It is a powerful, emotionally draining production that deserved the standing ovation it received. On the surface, it might not seem that a family from Mexico who sought refuge in the United States without the proper documentation and living in present-day Los Angeles could be similar to Medea and Jason and his ambitions to become a king. Yet they are.
Hason, the husband, wants to “make it” in America, and as he tells his wife (Medea), “you have to make sacrifices to succeed.” Medea refuses to leave the house or the backyard; she has set up a sewing machine and does piecework for a shirt manufacturer. We’re not sure why she is fearful until we learn more about her story later. I thought that it might be she was afraid of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), which has a police force that can arrest and remove people who have not followed U.S. immigration laws.
As with so many immigrant families, there is the push and pull of assimilation. Medea prefers the customs of her village, a point emphasized by her costumes by Kitty Cassetti.
Hason is embracing American culture. He urges his son (Arcan) to call him “dad;” Hasan wants Arcan to wear jerseys of American teams, while Medea wants him to wear a jersey of a Mexican team. Two other women represent the striving and the success. Josefina, who befriends the family, sells a type of Mexican bread; she comes from a village near theirs, but she has adapted more American ways, including her desire for success. Armida is a successful businesswoman in her 40s with a hard edge; she has made it. She has wealth and runs a business rehabilitating housing in the neighborhoods of the barrio for people like Medea’s family.
The husband, who had obviously been doing itinerant day labor, is now working for Armida, helping to rehab these apartments. She has talked about making him a manager or a supervisor.
As an adaptation of Medea, it is quite faithful to the original outlines of the play. Mojada opens with an incantation to the gods by Tita, the older woman who accompanied them on their way north.
Hason may want to succeed so he can provide more for his son, but he gets sucked in as the sacrifices slowly build from working long hours to other things. These lead to the destruction of everyone.
One shortcoming is that it takes too long for the play to reveal its Medea roots. The opening expository material makes us wonder what the connections to the Greek play are. Once we begin to see those parallels, we are caught.
The Medea character is riveting. She’s a woman who has been viewed by men as an object or tool. At one point, she talks about growing up on her father’s farm: When he died, he gave everything to her twin brother, though Medea had worked just as hard planting and harvesting. She is left with nothing. Yet when she tries to leave with Hasan, her brother tells her that he owns her and she is part of the land.
When she recounts this, the audience gasps.
Camila Moreno brings a quiet dignity to the role of Medea. This is not a Medea who rants and raves; her stillness in gestures and expressions and her quiet voice add power when she tells us what she has endured and when she takes her final actions.
Alejandro Hernández as Hason seems both naïve and conniving. Does he not see what is occurring? Does he truly believe he is not betraying Medea? While you can feel sympathy for him, more likely, you will feel that he, like the other men, views Medea as a tool to be used. It is a difficult role, and he carries off.
Tita, the grandmotherly figure who is a confidante and housekeeper, also serves as the chorus. It is she who opens the play with the incantation. Alma Martinez balances motherly caring with a fierce independence. We never learn why she came with them or why. My one concern with her performance was that, at times, particularly in the beginning, it was difficult to hear and understand what she was saying.
The other two women, Nancy Rodriguez as Josefina and Mónica Sánchez as Armida, have less developed roles. Sánchez does a good job conveying Armida’s ruthless need to succeed and to win what she wants. Romas Fernandez is energetic as Acan.
The scenic design by Marcelo Martínez Garcia shows us the back of the house and the yard. At first, the house looks like a mausoleum or family crypt. Once the play begins, it becomes more like a house, yet always maintains a foreboding presence.
Director Laurie Woolery manages to balance the 21st century with the intensity of the Greek source material, first produced in 431 BC. This is a disturbing story, and she doesn’t shy away from the most horrific elements.
Does the transposition from ancient Greece to today work? In many ways, it does, while it also calls attention to what today’s immigrants face in their home countries as well as getting to the U.S. and surviving in this country.
For tickets, visit YaleRep.org.