By Robert St. Martin
On Sunday, May 4, I was privileged to attend a performance of La Razon Blindada at the 24th Street Theatre in Los Angeles. This vital and provocative play is a revival of the award-winning production of La Razon Blindada (Armored Reason) for a limited three-week engagement in May. Written and directed by Argentine playwright Arístides Vargas, the play was triply inspired by testimonies from political prisoners held in Rawson Prison during Argentina’s “Dirty War” of the 1970s, The Truth About Sancho Panza by Franz Kafka, and the classic novel El Quijote by Cervantes.
Jesus Castaños “Chima” and Tony Durán reprise their roles from the original production as political prisoners who are allowed to interact with one another for one hour a week – but must remain in their chairs and never stand. At each meeting, they agree that one will perform and the other will be the audience. As they entertain each other with stories of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, we witness the power of theater to transport them, and us, into the realm of the imagination, despite repressive conditions and even as we remain bound to our seats in the theatre. I cannot recommend this play enough as it is one of the most brilliant theatre pieces you can experience. Do not miss the opportunity to see these two incredible actors reprise their original roles in La Raison Blindada.
La Razón Blindada written in Spanish in 2005 by Argentine playwright Arístides Vargas, who directed the original stage production and provided direction for this current revival at the 24th Street Theatre. It is a two-person show that is performed by Jesús “Chima” Castaños (Don Quijote De La Mancha) and Tony Durán (Sancho Panza). The production originally toured throughout the U.S., Mexico, and South America some 15 years ago and it received the LA Weekly “Production of the Year” award in 2011. The play which originated with the 24th Street Theatre has been revived with the original stage directions and few minor textual alterations approved by the author. The current production provides English translation in super-titles on a screen at the top of the stage. Sunday’s production includes an informative “Talk Back” with the actors.
Set in an undisclosed political prison, the play uses only the most basic mise-en-scène to tell its story: A projection screen, two chairs, three tables, and a few lighting cues. Yet through this minimalist approach the play creates a surreal 80-minute, one-act dark comedy that transports the audience into a permeable universe in which time and space melt into each other, via lightning-quick set changes, furious movements, and razor-sharp word play.
Vargas, an Argentinian exile, drew inspiration for this staging from his brother’s experiences as a political prisoner where he reported being confined in solitary, and only being permitted a brief respite on Sundays when prisoners could meet and talk, and only while remaining seated and with their hands atop of a table. So too the actors remain seated throughout, circumnavigating the stage on chairs equipped with casters. The characters are two political prisoners based on Don Quijote and Sancho Panza, who stage scenes and stories from Cervantes’s Don Quijote to entertain each other and pass the time, in a prison where time has no meaning.
The play begins with a rolling choreographed dance punctuated by facial expressions, consisting of little more than quick glances as the two actors glide into their weekly ritual: a Sunday ritual that offers them a temporary escape from their cruel reality. Staged to hold an almost frenetic pace, the play does not pause until the characters note the approach of prison guards and their panoptic eyes. Even so, these pauses become caesura to a virtuosic visual score. Both actors hilariously characterize familiar moments and figures from Don Quijote, including Dulcinea (Don Quijote’s beloved), Rocinante (Don Quijote’s horse) and his swift greyhound. In this way, the pair use their loosely-assumed personae to tell stories that overlap and spill into each other – as the playwright’s life, Don Quijote, the world of the play, and Cervantes’s life weave in and out of the story, culminating in a amazing rendering of Don Quijote’s windmill attack.
In only one awe-inspiring example of the way the play liquefies time and space’s solidity, we have a scene lifted from the original text, of Quijote promising Sancho an island for him to rule as a reward for his faithful service. This island will be populated by Black inhabitants, who as de la Mancha demonstrates, will play drums, and ware lip discs. Though absolutely racially problematic, this moment is not singularly so, since to omit it would sanitize the original source material and occlude the long-standing colorism present in Latino culture.
The fact that Sancho’s reward is to dominate over tribal, non- “modern” African Black people is a necessary though uncomfortable acknowledgment of both the historical and current occurrences of racially charged representations. Though the sublime nature of this moment may not be obvious or readily available, it more than any other illustrates the power of theatre.
It is a little-known fact that Miguel de Cervantes was imprisoned as a slave for five years. Though his capture by Barbary pirates and subsequent imprisonment is often cited, his enslavement is not, despite the fact that in his work he returns again and again to his captivity in Algiers. This experience would lead Cervantes to conclude that no person who gives themselves over to enslaving others, of whatever faith or nation, has anything but a cruel and insolent nature.
This, coupled together with the fact that the two figures in the play are political prisoners, draws attention to the connection between prisons and slavery. The implication of slavery (actual and metaphorical) as a phenomenon is much more prevalent than we care to admit. The characters may be clowning dangerously close to the edge of what is permissible, but it is the predicament of their situation as political prisoners point to their powerlessness.
“We’re bringing this play back again because it’s about finding the courage to stand up to oppression,” explains 24th Street Theater artistic director Debbie Devine. “It is literally about standing up for your beliefs. It could not be timelier than it is today.” “It’s art imitating life, or vice-versa,” agrees producer Jay McAdams. “Although it’s about a dictatorship a half century ago, it will resonate loudly in today’s world.”
24th Street Theatre first produced the North American premiere of La Razón Blindada in 2010, winning the LA Weeky Production of the Year Award and touring that production for over 200 performances to Mexico, Colombia, El Salvador and Ecuador as well as within the U.S. The company revived it in early 2017 in response to the events in the U.S. at that time. Now, it’s once again become required reviewing. The 24th Street Theatre is a multiple award-winning professional theater company with a unique connection to its local inner-city community.
Performances of La Razón Blindada take place on Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 3 p.m. from May 3 through May 18, with one additional performance on Monday, May 12 at 8 p.m. Tickets range from $10 to $24. The 24th Street Theatre is located at 1117 West 24th St., Los Angeles, CA 90007 (at the intersection of 24th and Hoover). To purchase tickets and for more information, call (213) 745-6516 or go to: www.24thstreet.org.
