Multiple-Edged Swords of Humour: Playing Latinx at Camden People’s Theatre

Photo credits: MarianaMalena Co.

Humour is a double-edged sword: It can be used to instigate resistance, but it can also be used to mock and discredit. Playing Latinx manages to do both, which is not an easy task. Downright serious but easy-going, this one-person show opens the door to reflect on the issue of representation in the performing arts industry and the challenges it entails in the immigrant experience.

Playing Latinx was developed by a Latin American trio with comic sarcasm at its core. Directed by MarianaMalena Co. and inspired by actor Guido García Lueches' experiences as an immigrant in the British casting landscape, this playful monologue sprinkled with audience participation lays out the industry's oversimplified ideas of the Latin community: a sexy pool cleaner,  a lively dancer, an infuriated thug, or a confused-looking migrant, among others. 

When you watch a theatre show, you're not just receiving the thing, you're receiving yourself. Playing Latinx struck a chord in my Mexican heart on several layers. I'm starting a career focused on embedded criticism, which engages with theatre shows beyond one night. It's not common in the theatre criticism world, and I'm still figuring out my practice as I go, which can be a bit intimidating. I realised that to do this, I needed to find places where I could feel at home, confident enough to find myself. And when I heard about MarianaMalena (a Latin American, female-led theatre company) I felt my guts were tuned to their work. And then, when Playing Latinx came along, I felt an instinctive attraction. Perhaps because of the mix between theatre and my own Latin identity that has marked my days since I arrived in London.

Photo credits: Marijose Galvan

The piece consists of two parts, which are weaved together over the course of an hour. First, a series of cheeky auditions for Latinx roles in which audience members volunteer to take on a directing chair and role-play as casting directors. During these, Guido guides the volunteers through simple interactions and makes the rest of the audience complicit in his disapproving thoughts regarding the casting industry. And although his discomfort becomes increasingly palpable, he answers every audition call because ”a job's a job's a job”. 

Alternating with the casting sketches, the show's second part takes the form of a playful seminar led by an actor/coach on how to be a successful Latinx through the artfully named Pebble Methodology (Practice-Based Learning, a.k.a. you try, you massively fail, you learn). 

The seminar embraces the tropes of a Latin universal self. Guido renames volunteers with long, telenovela-like names, provides them with new identities imbued with exotism and tragedy, and teaches a mantra that reiterates that a Latinx person is emotional (read with mantra-like long vowels). In these sections, Guido reverses the roles. Instead of being the one who adapts to please a casting director, it's the audience participants who take on a Latin persona to suit the expectations of British society.

Both parts, castings and seminar, lean heavily on stereotypes to the point of ridicule. But the comedy does not elude the subject matter; very much the opposite. It raises awareness about the microaggressions within the entertainment industry, like the demand to comply with certain accent expectations. And moreover, it lays out the way people within it ─audiences included─ take part in perpetuating the problem.  Breaking the fourth wall is a spot-on approach. 

It's tricky, however, to put an audience member in the spotlight as a representative of a racist industry. But Guido's easy vibes are contagious, so even though the play throws some stinging punches at British culture, these come across as playfully teasing in audience interactions. Most of the time, at least. But more on that later.  

I saw Playing Latinx come to life multiple times. As an embedded critic, I observed a morning rehearsal before its run at Camden People's Theatre and then watched the show on three consecutive evenings. During the rehearsal session, I felt like I was quickly gathering the ethos of Playing Latinx. I heard mentions of a salsatango dancer, golden sombreros, and the emotional mantra, and I accepted them without a second thought.  

It seems as if the fixed representations of Latin culture are so engraved in the theatre-makers' psyche that their comical sarcasm comes across naturally.  And even though I couldn't enjoy the show's structure neatly until I became an audience member, I later confirmed that my intuition wasn't far off. 

Indeed, the piece uses Latinx tropes intensely to force them into recognition. After all, a stereotype sustains a simplistic idea of a person's identity that's easy to toy with. A lot easier than understanding the depth of socio-political contexts, as we learn in the seminar on becoming a successful Latinx. (See, coach? I was taking notes. So where’s my seminar’s Maluma mix DVD now?)

During the Camden People's Theatre run, Guido's enthusiasm feels fresh each time. He embraces the liveliness of interacting with audience members with playful easiness. The promise of present-ness we expect in theatre is enhanced by the blueprint that each audience member leaves in the participation bits, from the woman who embraced a sexy walk to the one who didn't get what 'twerking of the soul' could mean. The diversity in people's responses adds different flavours each time, and it was always slightly spicy (like a tamarindo candy) thanks to the text's funny cues and Guido's dexterity in handling responses and injecting comedy. 

Photo Credits: Marijose Galvan

However,  there is one moment when the balance shifts. A bit in which the character erases the smile on people's faces as he protests with brutal honesty against the role that governments like the British one play in Latin American oppressive politics. A consequence of what he calls an ”Empire hangover” that perpetuates the white Western supremacy. In that part, Guido gives a glimpse of the complexity of the Latin American context that is so often overlooked, and he does so by inverting his emotional state skilfully and manifesting a sense of vulnerability unseen in previous scenes.

This in-your-face moment, in which Guido's semblance turns passionately crimson every single evening, anchors the critique of an otherwise light-hearted satire. That speech is the one moment when people are not meant to laugh. The one moment when you could cut the silence with a knife. And there were two knives in my experience.  Perhaps three, but the first night my own gut reaction pulled my attention inwards.

On the first night, a woman yelled an encouraging ”Preach!” after the speech (butter knife), but seconds later, someone else called Guido “emotional” out loud in an untimely application of the  humorous ​​mantra. That felt like a cold dagger stab to someone who, like myself, had my guts more aligned to the support expressed by the ”Preach” call out. It’s as if that other person took up the Pebble Methodology and massively failed to grasp how fragile and insightful that moment was.  Oh well, there went the silence...

The following night, the second knife that pierced the atmosphere manifested itself as a whisper I overheard from someone who expressed discomfort rather rudely  in that part. I'm usually annoyingly pacific and dislike confrontations, so I was indeed wary of the reactions after that segment. Still, I felt frustrated by what I perceive as a defense mechanism from someone who perhaps took the punch personally and then rejected it. I don't know more than the few words I overheard, so yes, I'm making assumptions. But that response was still gutting. 

I still wouldn't be able to say if the story is difficult or easy to connect with for non-Latin audiences. The laughter and standing ovations each evening make me think that the content wasn't lost in translation. After all, the very fact that audience members walked through unseasonable snow to see Playing Latinx (yes, a snowy London on a spring weekend) suggests that the British people in the room are more likely to be sensible about Latin American representation in the UK stages, and it is them who are being told off during the show. 

I talked to a non-Latinx friend about whether the show comes across too harshly (again, with the confrontational bit in my mind), and their answer left a blueprint in me: it's not a personal attack but a social critique. Afterwards, we discussed our impressions and questions eagerly, which I think is the real effect of the show. Our chat rounded up a theatre trifecta: my sneak peeks into the creative journey, the show itself with all the gut/brain stirring potential, and talking about it over a pint afterwards. 

As for the responses from Latin backgrounds, I believe that the show is easier to connect with, albeit in diverse ways. I know it was easy for me. And while I believe that it invites multiple readings, I've been reflecting on the concept of being a universal Latinx. 

Looking at this deliberately absurd and simplistic blend of several Latin cultures feels like watching my reflection in a funfair’s house of mirrors. I can see myself and I rejoice in the warm feeling of recognition and community. But I also wonder about the extent to which I might be playing a role in the distorted version of myself since I arrived in the UK. The thing with stereotypes is that they do have a little truth in them, but they also wash out the nuances and either remove or twist the context.

Playing Latinx reclaims the collection of Latin American labels and uses a dark sense of humour to denounce the simplistic cultural representations in theatre. Although it's very theme-specific, it translates to the overall immigrant experience, questioning the complexities of identity and multiculturalism. 

During the rehearsal, I felt as if I was joining the chat of a group of friends who don't take themselves too seriously. Playing Latinx is like that. Pressing but easy-going. And these easy vibes can spark discussions that hopefully will find more fourth walls to smash and audiences to share with.