Hip-hop, impromptu duckwalks and loving shade fill C. Julian Jiménez’s new play about two cousins dreaming of escaping their day jobs.
At a combination Pizza Hut-Taco Bell in Jamaica, Queens, the gender-fluid Thorn works on a rap — hinged on the line “I gotta leave New York City” — that will hopefully lead to an escape by way of an “America’s Got Talent” victory. Because Thorn, a trans woman, is played with irresistible magnetism by the nightlife performer Jae W.B., it’s almost impossible not to back her.
“Bruise & Thorn,” an eccentric new play by C. Julian Jiménez now being presented by Pipeline Theater Company at A.R.T./New York Theaters, gives the character a chance to freestyle, vogue and charm her way into the audience’s heart.
Never mind that her cousin Bruise (a very appealing Fernando Contreras) has to hold down the fort at the laundromat where they both work while Thorn dreams up her speedy liberation. Saving up for his own aspirations of culinary school, Bruise’s tender gay heart must make room for Old Fart (Lou Liberatore, very funny), the homeless man he allows to rest in the laundromat bathroom, and his demanding boss, Mrs. Gallo (a fiery Zuleyma Guevara), who’s roped him into her cockfighting racket.
Hanging outside is Lizard (Carson Fox Harvey), a sketchy figure who dangles his commitment to Thorn on the condition she drop the in-between-ness of her identity — it’s implied she sometimes uses he/him pronouns to appease him — and live as a man. Lizard’s character is not as thoroughly realized as the rest, perhaps by design, to keep him an enigma, but his ratty plaid boxers convey more than enough. (Costumes are by Saawan Tiwari.)
On top of its well-realized performances, “Bruise & Thorn” counts a memorable authenticity among its best qualities; the work is very queer, very Latinx, very New York City. Filled with hip-hop, impromptu duckwalks and loving shade, Jiménez’s humor is performed with contagious enthusiasm by his two leads. At the start of the play, when the characters’ personalities are being introduced, it is almost impossible to believe W.B. and Contreras did not compose the material themselves, they inhabit it so naturally.
Mixing resourcefulness with playfulness, the production eschews realism for gay fantasia; Sasha Schwartz’s laundromat set looks like a McDonald’s playground designed for the Teletubbies. Multicolored splotches adorn the floors, with washers and dryers and multipurpose cardboard boxes that lend a fitting oddball charm to the final scenes: a series of drag ball competitions representing cockfights (with the birds fabulously played by androgynous dancers) and a climactic argument between the two cousins.
Once the balls are introduced, Jiménez’s play becomes even less interested in realism, employing fantasy as a literal way of getting these characters out of their situations. It can feel like a bit of a narrative cop-out — I’m still not sure how, exactly, some of these plot threads are resolved — but the scenes are satisfying enough to wash away most concerns.
These flights of fancy are fundamental to the play’s queerness, but Jesse Jou’s unhurried direction drains momentum from the characters’ risky decisions. Whereas the initial hangout scenes let the cast’s whip-smart comic delivery and charisma dictate their pace, the tenser ones later on are allowed too many pauses, too much scoffing and hesitation, as if to telegraph gravity through passivity.
Jiménez is smart in not promising more than this lighthearted play can handle when it comes to the ideas of gender, identity and class it evokes. For all their dreaming, “Bruise & Thorn” knows exactly how to stay woke.
Bruise & Thorn
Through March 27 at Mezzanine Theater at A.R.T./New York Theaters, Manhattan; pipelinetheatre.org. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes.
Source: Theater - nytimes.com
