‘Toros’ Review: Why Are We Still Friends?

We all know this guy, or a version of him, anyway: smug, entitled, yet always somehow kept around. He cares only about his interests, his opinions on them, and does not welcome interruptions.

Danny Tejera’s “Toros,” a fine character study which opened Tuesday night in an exquisitely performed Second Stage Theater production, asks us to spend 90 minutes in the presence of such a jerk — in this case, a Spanish-American wannabe DJ named Juan, played by Juan Castano. Thanks to Castano’s sharp, unselfconscious acting, we want to lean in to see what makes him tick. And we’re led to reflect, across a series of seemingly low-stakes hangouts in Juan’s parent’s garage, on how such behavior can poison longstanding relationships.

Juan’s most significant relationship is with Toro (Abubakr Ali, with relentless charm and pathos), a Palestinian childhood acquaintance recently returned from a burnout stint at a high-paying job in New York. He now works, with a humble shrug, for Juan’s shady businessman father in Madrid, where the story takes place. Uncool but genuine, and with over-gelled hair, Toro punctuates his sentences with self-effacing scoffs.

Through Juan’s machinations, the two are in quasi-competition over Andrea (the actor b; cool, calm, collected), a Mexican kindergarten teacher who, perpetually rolling a spliff, seems like she might rather be at home. Having met at a well-to-do American grade school, Andrea, Toro and Juan have that same vague air of over-traveled, under-cultured ennui only the jet set lifestyle could produce, and Tejera’s characterization locates the poignancy behind their displacement.

Over the course of three increasingly tense weekends, the 20-somethings listen to Juan yell at his parents about his leaky bathroom over the EDM he blasts in their garage (Arnulfo Maldonado did the set) while they figure out the night’s next move. Toro and Andrea, effectively the heart of the show, must also navigate their host’s mercurial temper. All the while, Juan’s aging dog, Tica (Frank Wood, a marvel of physical acting), pants uncomfortably on the floor, too tired to wag her tongue.

Tejera’s play, light on plot, rests on unraveling the uneasy dynamic between the three, and on the meticulousness with which the playwright renders the petty signifiers in their world. The Red Sox hoodie-wearing Juan, for example, at one point mentions, not without jealousy, Toro’s Georgetown education.

These acute character details create a rich triptych of the ails of a social milieu that’s precise in stroke, impressionistic in structure. The specificities are held nimbly together by Gaye Taylor Upchurch’s direction, which knows when to breathe theatrical life into Tejera’s script — as in an uncomfortable, choreographed, sort-of sex scene — and when to let the air in its uncomfortable, often loaded conversations sputter out.

Here, Upchurch has pushed the actors toward a strong self-awareness of their physical presence. While their comings and goings flow naturally, most everyone seems to be hyper-conscious of where they stand — within the room, with each other, and in life. Soon, you begin to wonder where you fit in. Or if, like Juan, you don’t care to think.

Toros
Through Aug. 13 at the McGinn/Cazale Theater, Manhattan; 2st.com. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes.