STAGE REVIEW : ‘VILLA!’ CASTS THE HERO AS STATUE

One-person shows have become so much a part of the theatrical landscape that to attract serious attention they require the presence of something uncommon--an angle, an actor, another dimension.

Donald Freed’s one-man “dream/reminiscence” of the renegade Francisco (Pancho) Villa doesn’t quite achieve that distinction. At the Bilingual Foundation of the Arts’ Theatre/Teatro, where his “Villa!” is currently playing, the cattle-rustling Mexican bandit-military hero is presented as a statue momentarily come to life to converse with us. The monologue constitutes a pleasant enough social hour--but where’s the hell-raising?

Despite actor Julio Medina’s striking round-face resemblance to the peasant-general and the accuracy of his costume (by Armand Coutu and Gary Stangl), his performance ultimately lacks the fire that would spark a visceral understanding of what made this man so feared and so revered in the northern provinces of Mexico when the century was still young.

The logical argument, of course, is that Villa is speaking to us from beyond the grave--a placid vantage point in a concretized eternity--well after his rabble-rousing days are over. True, but the device itself may be too dispassionate if it can turn the vivid color and richly turbulent events in Villa’s life a uniform stone shade of gray.

Villa was not only a man who did not go gentle into his good night (he was assassinated in Chihuahua in 1923), but who, even when he lived, was never far from danger. His were cutthroat times and he seemed to thrive in their treacheries and upheavals. He changed allegiances as needed--or as the fortunes of Mexican leaders rose and fell.

He neither trusted nor was trusted much, narrowly missed execution in 1912 and once, at least, escaped from prison into the United States. Even if this is a dream, existence in this state of permanent rebellion must have elements of nightmare. It is not most effectively viewed from a contemplative perspective.

Perhaps Medina, who translated the text into Spanish and alternates in English and Spanish-language performances, rustles up more ardor when he speaks in Villa’s native tongue. This writer saw the piece in English and something may be lost in the non-translation.

How much the absence of at least some hellfire should be attributed to director Hector Elizondo, to Medina or to Freed’s text is not entirely clear. But the meditative mood is intentional and, if anything, underscored by Magda Gonzalez’s focused lighting and Estela Scarlata’s simple yet suggestive set: a gate, a pedestal, a few autumn leaves--and pigeon droppings.

Performances at 421 N. Avenue 19 in Los Angeles are in Spanish on Wednesdays and Fridays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 3 p.m. and in English on Thursdays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. Tickets: $12 (213) 225-4044.