Actors’ Studio Troupe Draws a Full ‘House’

Almost everybody in the Iglesia clan, the family at storm-center in Jose Rivera’s “The House of Ramon Iglesia” at the Orange County Actors’ Theater, wants to go back to Puerto Rico.

Life just outside New York City hasn’t been the fantasy they imagined. Patriarch Ramon drinks almost as much as he broods, and his wife, Dolores, refuses to learn English. She’d rather dream of San Juan beaches than practice her vowels.

The youngest son, Charlie, envisions a paradise of sun and beautiful girls, while the middle boy, Julio, just wants to see his mother happy. He’s separated himself from it all by joining the Marines.

The Iglesias’ eldest son, Javier, thinks the family should stay put. Javier sees their return as pure failure, a retreat by immigrants who couldn’t make it in the States. Except for the burden of his relatives, Javier is doing all right--he’s proud of his college degree, has a dim but sexually frisky girlfriend and is confident he can move to the top of his world.

It’s the emotional head-butting between Javier and just about everybody else that gives “The House of Ramon Iglesia” its seriocomic energy and appeal.

Despite a too-easy, overly sentimental ending, this is a worthy play about cultural roots and low-key family misery. And it receives a lively, effectively acted staging by director Louis A. Velazquez at the Orange County Actors’ Theater (formerly the Garden Grove Community Theater).

The play opens as the Iglesias await their father’s return from a trip to get the deed to the house they’ve lived in for several years. He plans to sell the property to Calla, an Italian neighbor with mob ties, and take his own brood back to Puerto Rico.

But there’s a problem: It looks as if Ramon may not actually own the house. Under the pressure of remaining in New York, where Ramon has worked as a janitor and experienced bigotry firsthand, the family starts to implode. Dolores is awash in tears, and the boys snipe at each other relentlessly, with Javier hanging on to his hope for assimilation like it’s a life raft.

Within this framework, Rivera blends a few important strands. The most obvious is the price, in terms of personal identity, newcomers to this country often must pay. In Ramon’s case, the promise of a better life wasn’t delivered, and he feels cheated, a direct path to self-pity and booze.

But beyond the cultural issues, “The House of Ramon Iglesia” is intriguing (and often very funny) for its look at a bristling family dynamic. Apparently, dysfunction knows no language barriers. Some of Rivera’s most amusing lines come when the battling Iglesias are going at each other.

Anchoring the show is Robert Hector as Javier. He’s the best in this able cast, giving Javier a needed streak of goodness that allows us to get past his basic self-absorption. When he finally comes to the rescue, Hector makes the turnaround believable.

Another solid performance comes from Joseph Nieves as Julio. Nieves relaxed style allows Julio to emerge as more than just a muscled wisecracker. Andrew Casagrande as Ramon and Marie Koller as Dolores are also steady as the aging couple, although Casagrande’s appearance could use some tuning. He’s clearly a young guy wearing a bad gray-doused wig and makeup.

The funniest portrayal is reserved for Bret Mitchell Dolisie as Calla. Dressed in black leather and talking tortured Brooklynese, Calla acts like he’s seen way too many Scorsese movies (you keep expecting him to break out with a “You talking to me?”). He’s a hoot.

* “The House of Ramon Iglesia,” Orange County Actors’ Theater, 12001 St. Mark St., Garden Grove. Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 2 p.m.. Ends March 30. (714) 897-5122. Running time: 2 hours, 25 minutes.

Marie Koller: Dolores

Molly Barrett: Caroline

Oscar Bandi: Charlie

Joseph Nieves: Julio

Andrew Casagrande: Ramon

Robert Hector: Javier

Bret Mitchell Dolisie: Calla

An Orange County Actors’ Theater production of Jose Rivera’s play. Directed by Louis A. Velazquez. Set design by Claudia Montgomery. Lighting by Frank Castro. Stage manager Frank Castro.