by Charlsie-Kern Kruger

Luis Alfaro’s new play, “Aztlán” is dense, hard to follow at times, visually stunning, full of ritual impact, and—like all of his work—magnificent.

The play opens with a monologue by Aztlan, a hapless parolee recalling his younger self as a thirteen year old swimmer in an Olympic pool in Delano, a powerful boy, swimming against fate to cure himself of “diagnosed aggression”. He was an angry boy, and now he is an angry man, or as he puts it: “I’m also a piece of shit. It’s okay; I own it.” We learn that he has spent nine years in jail after a botched robbery. As a younger man, desperate, he attempted to rob a liquor store. He had no gun, but he so frightened the clerk that the man had a heart attack. Aztlan, the former swimmer, didn’t run away, but attemped to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation that did not succeed. And so to jail.

As he completes this monologue, telling us what we need to know of his life, an Aztec God, Mictlāntēcutli, dances about him. The message is clear Aztlan is more than he appears. He is a warrior, a descendant of a great empire, and the ancient God is watching.

Mictlāntēcutli withdraws and is replaced in the scene by Parole Officer Aguila, a man who has seen it all, who cares about his charge but is realistic enough to know that rehabilitation is a dicey proposition. He relates to Aztlan with the toughest of tough love.

The language of the play is poetic, evoking gods and history. The visuals, through projection and movement and costume, are enchanting, even breathtaking.

The story of Aztlán, his destructive brother Mickey (perhaps an avatar of Mictlāntēcutli), his earthy mother, angry sister, and absent father, unveils a mythic parable. These are not just characters, but archetypes—stand-ins for a fallen empire, a soul at war with its own shadow, reaching toward to recover its greatness.

I describe this play in such loose and plotless terms, because that seems appropriate. There is a story here, but it is not the main course. The message unfolds through movement and visuals and passionate emotions. It’s ritual opera. And, as with opera, it is the metaphorical music of the visceral and emotional passion that matters, not the accidents of the libretto.

So I can’t tell you the plot, but I can tell you this: there is profound passion on display here, the acting is virtuosic, and “Aztlán” touches the sublime.

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“Aztlán” continues its extended run at the Magic Theatre through July 20, 2025. For further information click here.”

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Rating: ***** (For an explanation of TheatreStorm’s rating system, click here.)
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“Aztlán,” a world premiere by Luis Alfaro. Produced byMagic Theatre in collaboration with El Campo Santo. Director: Kinan Valdez. Assistant Director: Perla Vanessa Barraza. Lighting Design: Alejandro Acosta. Costume Design: David Arevalo. Properties Design: Ashley Méndez. MOvement Director: Patricia Baretto Ong. Scenic Design: Tanya Orellana. Video Design: Juan Osato. Sound Design: Christopher Sauceda. Technical Director: Hector Zavala. 

Cast (in alphabetical order): 

Juan Amador-Balanque: Tez. Catherine Castellanos: Martina/Metzli. Daniel Duque Estrada: Aztlán. Gabriela Guadalupe: Huitzil / Tlilli. Sean San José: Mickey/Mictlāntēcutli. Ogie Zulueta: Aguila.