Theatre in Review: Mexodus (Minetta Lane Theatre)

	Nygel D. Robinson, Brian Qujada. Photo: Curtis Brown

Even as the current administration tries to rewrite American history as a long march from a rosy past to a glorious future, the people behind Mexodus will have none of that. Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson are prepared to school audiences in forgotten facts that make a much darker, yet livelier, story. You've heard about the Underground Railroad, which led Black slaves out of the south up into New England and on to Canada and freedom. Turning their attention in other directions, Quijada and Robinson spin a historically accurate musical drama about another, lesser-known, escape path, leading from Texas to Mexico.

The very opposite of a dry history lesson, Mexodus tells its tale with a contemporary musical flourish, using live looping plus hip-hop, beatboxing, a touch of mariachi, and gorgeous instrumentals on guitar and piano. It's a wild woosh of energy, designed to disorient, overturn, and enlighten. These element, combined with highly creative design and David Mendizabal's dynamic staging, make Mexodus one of the most arresting entertainments in town. Its clear-eyed take on immigration, slavery, and America's empire instincts couldn't be more relevant.

Robinson is Henry, a slave living in Victoria, Texas. As Quijada and Robison are quick to note, Mexico outlawed that vile institution in 1829. But, with the end of the Mexican-American War in 1845, Texas, annexed by the US, took a massive backward step, returning Black people to chains. Our freedom-loving country continued to set a scandalous human rights example until the Emancipation Proclamation, nearly two decades later. (Such are the facts that Linda McMahon and her ilk would like suppressed from the record; you'll find plenty more of such food for thought at the Minetta Lane.)

Cornered in a barn by his owner's wife, who wants to take a closer look at his muscular development, Henry is caught in a kill-or-be-killed situation when their forced tryst is discovered. Beating his owner to death, he heads south. Following a harrowing crossing of the Rio Grande -- ironically, he survives by hanging on to a cotton bale, the tangible symbol of his oppression -- he holes up in a barn on a farm managed by Carlos, a doctor turned military deserter stained by shame for having abandoned his post.

This wary pair gradually learns to trust each other, with Henry unsure what to make of Carlos' decent treatment and Carlos feeling betrayed when he discovers that Henry is being pursued with an $1,800 price on his head. It's a parable, of Black and brown men learning to make common cause against the odds, informed and enriched by the actors' personal testimonies. Robinson pays tribute to the ancestors who raised him in a cocoon of love, allowing him to build a stage career beyond their imaging. Quijada recalls a chilling moment from his youth, the family car parked at a gas station in Chicago's South Side, his parents' behavior unwittingly teaching him to fear a Black neighborhood. Such vividly evoked memories point to the decisions Carlos and Henry will make to ensure their survival.

Quijada is known to New York audiences for his potent turn in the drama My Manana Comes and his hilarious and moving biographical piece Where Did We Sit on the Bus?. Here, his punchy way with words and his DJ skills -- building captivating musical landscapes from multiple samples and loops -- gives this historical fragment a potent present-tense edge. Offering a thought that feels like pure heresy in our current climate of division and denunciation, he notes, "We are taught to separate, we are taught to stick to our own/Taught to how protect our homes," adding, "But what if/What if/What if we weren't so quick to lock our doors?" Robinson, based in Chicago and busy in the regional theatre scene, is a sensational presence, with a soaring voice and a way with multiple musical instruments. His introspective interlude at the piano and a sustained guitar duet with Quijada are lovely moments of respite that keep the supercharged production from becoming too overwhelming.

Mendizabal's staging capitalizes on the stars' singing, musical, and movement skills, creating a rollicking atmosphere from the top and maintaining a breathless pace. He is also the production's costume designer, but even more interesting are the contributions of his colleagues. Riw Rakkulchon's set encases the action in a hut made of rusty girders and corrugated metal walls; it's the perfect tough environment for this hardscrabble story. Mextly Couzin's lighting paces the action with percussive cueing, ballyhoos, and stark saturated color washes. In her most inventive touch, the upstage wall is dotted with lighting units, many of them partly obscured by circular shades; it's like looking at galaxy of moons in various states of eclipse. Johnny Moreno's video design takes in key words of the show's text, live capture of Quijada working his DJ station, a rain storm, and a close-up of boots and spurs that looks like a shot from an old Clint Eastwood western. The contribution of Mikhail Fiksel, the production's sound designer and looping systems architect, is first-rate, at all times making clear the torrent of words pouring forth from the stage.

For all the style expended on this project, a little more time could have been spent on developing the story. As it is, Mexodus is a dramatic anecdote hinging on a tiny handful of incidents. Without a stronger foundation, the show begins to flag a bit in its final quarter; its high-energy approach becomes a bit wearing. The show could focus more on Carlos' backstory, telling us about the experiences that drove him to desert the army. And in the last 15 minutes or so, there is notable lack of suspense; by then it is obvious that only one conclusion is possible and we get there before the characters.

Still, the highs are many and the lows only occasional in a production that can fairly be described as an explosion of talent. Most of all, Quijada and Robinson are voicing ideas that demand to be heard. As Robinson muses, "Perhaps we're looking for God/But looking in all the wrong places/Perhaps the essence of God resides in Black and brown faces/Una gente en Dios with newfound manifesto/Todos estamos juntos en esto." Look it up; it'll do you good. --David Barbour