I Have Before Me a Remarkable Document Given to Me by a Young Lady from Rwanda

Colony Theatre
555 N. Third St., Burbank
Through Sept. 17
Friday-Saturday 8 p.m. · Sun. 2 and 7 p.m
(Also Thurs. Sept. 7 & 14 at 8 p.m.)
Tickets: $32-42
(818) 558-7000 ext. 15
www.colonytheatre.org

Not quite a docudrama yet not entirely fictional, Sonja Linden's gripping and moving two-person play, now in its L.A. premiere, is an inspirational work driven by evident passion. Using as its backdrop one of the most shameful chapters in human history—the horrific 1994 three-month massacre of 800,000 citizens of Rwanda in Central Africa by Hutu extremists—Linden fashioned a story loosely based on her work with survivors of this genocide. She worked in London at a medical foundation for the care of victims of torture, using writing as a therapeutic tool. The play was inspired by her work with Lea Chantal, whose family members were murdered in Rwanda. Director David Rose and two exemplary actors parlay this lovely piece into an indelibly rewarding production.

The surprising thing about the play is the amount of wry humor that Linden has injected. This largely stems from culture-clash issues between Rwanda survivor Juliette (Erica Tazel), a composite character based on Chantal and some of Linden's other clients, and Simon (Louis Lotorto), the burnt-out British poet helping Juliette write a book based on her family's tragedy. This character is the persona for Linden, a male in this fictionalization. It's not only the smooth integration of credible humor that sets Linden's drama apart from other preachy or harrowing works depicting social injustices and politically-spawned tragedy; it's her marvelous way of opting for dignity over pathos, and character-driven dramaturgy over polemic. Juliette repeatedly asserts that she doesn't want people to pity her. As she miraculously rises above the terrible cards that life has dealt her, she becomes a paragon of courage and grace, seeking to share the profundity of her experiences without dwelling on her pain.

There's even a touch of romance in the mix, as Juliette's married mentor—suffering from writer's block and general malaise—becomes captivated by her resilient high spirits, wit, and determination. Above all, it's a story of deep friendship and emotional rebirth. The beauty of the bond formed between the two is facilitated by the avoidance of clichés in a remarkably resonant depiction favoring simplicity over dramatic contrivance. Likewise, Rose's tastefully restrained interpretation leaves room for the actors to find the soul of their characters. Tazel gives a mesmerizing portrayal, eliciting every ounce of humor and tragedy from the material. The dramatic arc that begins when Juliette discovers her brother also survived, only to have her planned reunion with him stymied by governmental red tape, is masterfully achieved. When she begins recounting the horrible events on the day her family was slaughtered, she evokes devastating emotions that ring remarkably true. Lotorto likewise finds a wealth of nuances in the understated take on his role, allowing us to slowly warm up to this stuffed-shirt intellectual. The chemistry between these actors elicits one of the most joyful collaborations within memory. A gorgeous design effort is the crowning touch in a production easily qualifying as one of this year's finest. —Les Spindle

Water and Power

Mark Taper Forum
135 N. Grand Ave., L.A.
Through Sept. 17
Tuesday-Friday 8 p.m., Saturday 2:30 p.m. and 8 p.m., Sunday 2:30 p.m.
Tickets: $20-55
213-628-2772
www.taperahmanson.com

Even a Los Angeles cultural historian couldn't understand every reference uttered in the world premiere of Water and Power; but when a storyline is potent enough, missing a few lines here and there becomes inconsequential. Comedy troupe Culture Clash receives a sparkling welcome as the final show in the Mark Taper Forum season, exploring the relationship between two brothers who get caught up in the corruption within local politics, law enforcement and the emerging power behind L.A.'s Chicano community.

Culture Clash, which is made up of players Ric Salinas, Richard Montoya, and Herbert Siguenza, have been around for more than two decades, promoting political satire and performance art with a Latino twist. The troupe's last full-length play, Chavez Ravine, about a close-knit Mexican-American community that was evicted to make room for what is now Dodger's Stadium, opened to jam-packed audiences at the Taper, . Water and Power doesn't make such pointed political commentary, but takes a broader look at the growth of Chicano power in Los Angeles and the fragmentation that takes place when those collaborative forces become combative.

Lisa Peterson directs this production, which was written by Montoya, who also stars as state Sen. Gilbert Garcia, nicknamed “Water” by his father. His brother Gabriel, played by Siguenza, is an addict cop who has just killed a man, hiding out in a dingy motel. The real strength of this play lies in the interaction between the brothers, punctuated by flashbacks to their childhood, which heightens the emotions between them. Their father, played solidly by Winston J. Rocha, is a Department of Water and Power employee who teaches his children the value of loyalty and pride, and Moises Arias brilliantly portrays both men as young boys. Arias also astounds as the elegantly prancing Deer Dancer, a mythical Yaqui Indian figure that appears in the face of death and darkness.

The brothers are fractured in their ambitions—Water is supposedly on the “right” side as an upstanding politician who is fighting to build green space on the east side of the L.A river, while Power snorts coke in a seedy motel after committing murder. But it is Water who finds himself cavorting with a corrupt and manipulative politician, played devilishly by a brilliant Dakin Matthews. Meanwhile Power hooks up with his loyal best friend and intellectual wit, Norte/Sur (Salinas), a wheelchair-bound man who faithfully takes care of his friends while traipsing around town on public transportation.

Still, audiences should take note that the local and pop culture references come fast and furious—quick comments about Trader Joe's, Google, and coercing Daryl Hannah up a tree may elicit laughter from all. Those paying close attention can make sense of unfamiliar references, like the comparison between “muscle” in Echo Park versus Los Feliz. But the real comedy lies in commentary on the local Chicano political arena, which doesn't necessarily speak to a wide audience. Sure, we all get the Villaraigosa jokes, but then the references go as narrow as L.A. County Supervisor Gloria Molina, spoken about only by her first name. In addition, many of the performer's lines tend to get swallowed up or mumbled too quickly to catch. A scant few audience members gave up on trying to follow the storyline within the linguistic acrobatics, and walked out. But those who power through and pay close attention will get all the benefits of a fast-paced, intelligent show that helps Angelenos to be keenly aware of their surroundings. —Sarika Chawla