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Fading Havana hotel houses
rich stories, characters in 'Displaced'
Robert Hurwitt, Chronicle
Theater Critic. Friday, May 19, 2006.
Displaced: Comedy. By Rogelio Martinez.
Directed by Amy Glazer. (Through June 11.
Marin Theatre Company, 397 Miller Ave.,
Mill Valley. One hour, 40 minutes. Tickets
$29-$47. Call (415) 388-5208 or visit www.marintheatre.org.)
Many secrets are contained within the cracked
plaster walls of the once-grand Havana hotel
in Rogelio Martinez's "Displaced."
Most are surprising, and some are too conveniently
revealed or worked out, but others are provocative
or downright hilarious. If the characters
don't deliver quite as much as Martinez's
script seems to promise, the magnificently
distressed hotel room created by set designer
J.B. Wilson makes up the difference.
A world premiere by an up-and-coming Cuban
American playwright, "Displaced"
opened Tuesday as the final offering in
Marin Theatre Company's season. Sharply
and inventively staged by Amy Glazer, it's
an impressive local debut for a refreshingly
original, imaginative new voice, even if
the play doesn't seem quite finished. Drawing
on influences as diverse as Shakespeare,
French farce, Alan Ayckbourn and Pirandello,
Martinez creates a kind of midlife-identity-crisis
comedy doubling as a possible espionage
caper within a bedroom farce that might
be a hack playwright's fantasy or, perhaps,
nightmare.
If it's a dream, the hot-air balloon ride
gone astray may provide a clue, though the
name of the lead character and the impending
tempest point in another direction. An American
couple, Miranda (Jamie Jones) and her husband,
Matt (Darren Bridgett), embarked on a balloon
ride in Florida and have ended up stranded
in the once- palatial hotel in Havana. As
Miranda eavesdrops on the guests next door
-- while Matt is off picking up an exotic
dancer (Isabelle Ortega) -- a Cuban government
agent (Johnny Moreno) drops by with some
pointed questions and a mysterious intelligence
file.
Meanwhile, next door, Amador (Jarion Monroe),
a once-successful American playwright, has
returned to his Havana roots in hopes of
finding inspiration for his next play. Failing
that, he's hooked up with a prostitute,
Ana (Maria Grazia Affinito), to serve as
his muse -- which in his case means ghostwriter.
Overheard sounds from Amador's room contribute
greatly to the comedy in Miranda's, before
Martinez cleverly brings everybody together.
One set -- Wilson's beautifully detailed,
rundown, high-ceilinged hotel room, from
its worn linoleum to the peeling paint on
its towering shutters, the ornate crown
molding on its distressed, tropical green
walls and the mismatched bulbs in the chandelier
-- serves for both rooms. Though the story
unfolds concurrently in each room, it does
so in alternating scenes, a device Martinez
hasn't developed as well as he could. But
if some of the scenes spin their wheels
at times, Glazer's scene changes delightfully
frame the action in a kaleidoscopic time-rewind
of Kurt Landisman's vivid lights and David
Molina's evocative sound effects.
The comedy can be exceptionally sharp.
Martinez has a very good ear for the humor
of marital dissatisfaction, literary malfeasance
and frank opportunism -- and Jones, Monroe,
Ortega and Affinito make the most of their
punch lines. The theme of personal displacement
offers potentially penetrating material
as well. A child of the 1980 Mariel boat
lift, Martinez hasn't been back to Cuba
since (except in his work), and several
of his characters are coping with the mysteries
and effects of such dislocation, even if
they don't know it.
But Martinez hasn't fully developed the
theme or some of his characters. Where he
has, Glazer and the actors bring the script
richly to life. Jones is particularly comic,
confused, assertive and affectingly vulnerable
as Miranda, the most fully drawn character.
Monroe delivers a strong portrait of the
casually unscrupulous, vain Amador, and
Affinito does good work as the hooker with
the heart of a Hollywood screenwriter. Moreno
and Ortega have some good moments as the
agent and the blithely opportunistic dancer,
though both characters are a bit amorphous.
Bridgett gamely goes for the comedy in the
barely sketched Matt.
The discrepancies result in some slow passages
and others that seem frustratingly full
of missed opportunities. But at its best,
"Displaced" is a fertile blend
of rich comic imagination and a quirky,
probing intelligence, a welcome introduction
to an intriguing new talent.
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