THEATER REVIEW : An Up-to-the-Minute Look at Mexico’s Drug Scourge

Victor Hugo Rascon Banda’s “Contrabando,” a play about the ravages of drug trafficking in the author’s native province of Chihuahua, Mexico, stands virtually alone in our experience with contemporary Mexican literature for the stage.

Most of what has crossed the border from Latin America has been steeped in history or has dealt more obliquely (as in “La Nona”) with current political realities. “Contrabando” tackles an up-to-the-minute scourge head-on, all the way to the combustion of its surprise finale (not to be revealed here). It couches its dilemmas in the form of arias spoken by three women, each victimized by the sorry state of affairs.

The play’s presentation by the Bilingual Foundation of the Arts’ TheatreTeatro at the Los Angeles Theatre Center is a strong, forthright entry that chooses to present the piece in a realistic casing.

Estela Scarlata’s handsome set, which allows us to glimpse the flashing neon signs of the street beyond, is meticulously representational. We find ourselves in the outer office of the top official in the city of Santa Rosa, where two women and a man are waiting for the official to show up.

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Conrada (Christine Avila) is the office manager, a job apparently given to her as a result of some murky local mayhem involving marijuana plantations and the “accidental” shooting of her son.

As Damiana (Vetza Trussel)--the other middle-aged woman in the room--is quick to point out, Conrada has no real qualifications for this position. Damiana speculates, with some justification, that the job was a payoff: a way to shut Conrada up and keep her from digging deeper into her son’s death. (Where else could her activities be better monitored than in the municipal presidente’s office?)

Damiana is nothing if not outspoken, and Conrada only mildly protests the allegation. The tall, handsome man (Ruben Garfias) who has joined them in the waiting, is a more nebulous character who admits only to being a writer ( escritor ). Specifically: a poet.

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Perhaps. He remains mostly silent, speaking mostly when spoken to, the motive of his presence undeclared. This makes him a perfect foil for the voluble women, including coquettish Jacinta (Alejandra Flores), who comes into the room to sell everybody lunch and stays behind to tell a bimboid tale, mostly to the captive poet, about being a former beauty queen prematurely dethroned by an unplanned pregnancy.

Jacinta’s story goes on at some length to reveal more serious damage wrought by a shotgun marriage to the father of her child--a handsome miscreant of remarkable affluence whose ill-gained house of cards has crumbled, leaving her to sell burritos for a living.

Rascon Banda’s accomplishment--and problem--lies in these women’s tales. They are wordy quasi-monologues that don’t intersect and often go into wearing detail to make a point.

Only the mysterious escritor seems to inhabit each story. He’s an elusive, ubiquitous shadow, who may or may not have been a part of each woman’s saga in some undefined and unexplained way.

The use of this character is one of Rascon Banda’s more persuasive devices. The other one--a malfunctioning two-way radio in the office that periodically emits snatches of inconclusive information--is a tool to heighten tension. But the suspense of its truncated messages softens from the sheer repetitiveness of the ploy.

In spite of the wordiness, Avila, Trussel and Flores bring distinct and often captivating characterizations to the women they play.

Avila is the demure and agitated one, fearful that she might have been duped into becoming a part of the problem rather than the solution. Trussel is the brazen one, the one who ardently feels she’s lost all she had to lose and wants the truth exposed. And Flores is the flirtatious one--not so much a bimbo as a tender and hopeless romantic who relates her considerable troubles with a fatalism that spells tacit acceptance and tragic inaction. Activism is simply beyond her.

Margarita Galban has staged the piece with more verve than depth. The fun, however, was built-in by Rascon Banda chiefly to heighten the play’s darker riffs. Galban comfortably navigates the lighter portions, but only fitfully extracts anguish from the tragedy.

She succeeds best with Avila, who’s account is the most emotionally satisfying. Neither of the other women is able to achieve majesty in pain. Flores’ prancing tale remains too brightly colored, and Trussel seems locked into the sometimes strident upper octaves of her story.

Garfias, on the other hand, maximizes a sketchily written role, providing just enough enigma without alienating himself from the action. Since he’s also responsible for the efficient English translation, he’s a major asset to the production, which is presented without intermission and could benefit from a stepped-up pace or, better yet, some judicious pruning.

* “Contrabando,” Los Angeles Theatre Center, 514 S. Spring St., Downtown. In English: Thursday-Friday, 8 p.m. In Spanish: Wednesday, 8 p.m.; Saturday, 3 and 8 p.m.; next Sunday, 3 p.m. Ends next Sunday. $15-$18; (213) 225-4044. Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes.

Vetza Trussel: Damiana

Christine Avila: Conrada

Ruben Garfias: Escritor

Alejandra Flores: Jacinta

David Calvillo: Police Officer

A presentation of Bilingual Foundation of the Arts’ TheatreTeatro. Director Margarita Galban. Playwright Victor Hugo Rascon Banda. Sets and costumes Estela Scarlata. Lights Robert Fromer. Sound Jon Gottlieb. Stage manager Tony Moya.