Theatre Review: Mojada Is A Feminist Approach To Medea
Written by Luis Alfaro, Mojada guts audiences with the realities and prejudices of being a woman, especially of color. Based off of Euripedes’ Medea, Alfaro brilliantly humanizes a character that has always been received with vitriol and judgment, which is natural; a woman murdering her children because her “husband” left them, for another woman, and now they have no social standing still seems like a MAJOR LUNATIC! Yet, the beauty and even feministic approach of Mojada, is how it breaks down the bridges between sanity and insanity, heartbreak and intuition, spirit and human being, complete loss and resilience/
Directed by Chay Yew, with a set beautifully designed by Arnulfo Maldonado, the audience is, immediately, transported into the sad, frustrating, and mystical world of Medea. Now living in Queens, she is a Mexican, undocumented immigrant known for her powerful hands as a seamstress and “curandera” or a spiritual witch-doctor. Sabina Zuniga Varela makes Medea fractured and still; all she has to do is stay in place and you feel every piece of her broken heart fall to the floor. Her big, brown eyes glisten with the pain of Medea’s horrendous, male history. Abused by her brother, raped by soldiers as she crossed the border, chased by ICE agents, and betrayed and left in a foreign country by the one man she loved and thought loved her back: Jason (Alex Hernandez). Medea reaches an unbelievably painful realization, of which sound and image are used to justify: she gave to everyone and never received anything.
MOJADA – Trailer | The Public Theater
Kind, caring, and loyal, Medea crossed deserts for her man, struggling to find work, and her son, Acan (played adorably by Benjamin Luis McCracken), who she hoped would have a better future in America. Her life is a selfless act, as seen by Tita (Socorro Santiago), her loyal, childhood nanny that believes her “niña” is Heaven sent with how big her heart is for others. This is quickly proves by she helps the the hilarious Luisa (Vanessa Aspillaga): a Puerto Rican, churro-maker, how rare, who is struggling with fertility issues and finding a sexy dress. Like Santiago’s dominantly humorous Tita, the latter serves for the most hilarious moments of the show and one of its most tragic. The importance of Mojada is that it shows you can get absolutely cornered: with no chance of “winning” or escaping your life’s issues unscathed. Though she turns to Luisa and Tita for aid, after all her traumas, Medea is left alone, broke, and at risk of being deported and abused, again. Her response is deadly.
