The Off-Broadway Theatre Review: Audible Theater’s Mexodus
By Ross
“Did you know about this shift?” That in 1848, to be precise, Blacks who were free in Mexico’s Texas suddenly found themselves slaves in America’s Texas after its annexation? And did you also know about the Underground Railroad? Not the one that went north up to Canada. That one I’ve read about, was taught about, and I’ve seen the monuments in Canada honouring it from all different angles. But I didn’t know about the one that went south, from the newly created Texas of the United States to Mexico, where enslaved people could be free. This was a new story for me, and in Mexodus, this phenomenal two-person live-looped new musical now playing to enthusiastic audiences at Audible Theater, this telling of an untold but highly relevant story explodes onto the stage, enthralling and enlightening all who see it.
This was a new story for me, but in Mexodus, written and performed by Brian Quijada (writer: Where Did We Sit on the Bus?; actor: Public’s Oedipus El Rey) and Nygel D. Robinson (R&J: Fire on the Bayou), they take that untold chapter and reclaim it with a fierce and unique artistry and open heart. It digs into the narrative from a personal stance of knowing and unpacking a chapter in history that is trying to be erased. It’s familial history and legacy that needs to be brought to light, and through their expert musical skills, they layer and loop their sound, their songs, and their story into an unforgettable and inventive unpacking that will make your heart race and your blood boil. Building everything from scratch, live on stage, adding some dirt and making it more funky, the story unfolds expertly, showcasing modern and learned distrust between oppressed groups before diving headfirst into the lived past, and exploring the tale of Robinson’s family history of enslavement, and how it intersected with Quijada’s in a newly reformed Mexico.
Directed with an infectious energy by David Mendizábal (Atlantic’s Tell Hector I Miss Him), Mexodus never holds back, as it creates a beat to deliver the goods. They take us back, to a moment in time that this current U.S. federal administration would like erased from the shameful history recorded in books and museums, when enslaved people escaped south, like the slave named Henry, portrayed captivatingly by Robinson, who ran for his life after he killed a white man who would have killed him had he not defended himself. It’s a story of oppression we have all learned or seen in films, but played out by this pair of ingenious and inventive performers, we feel ourselves running alongside Robinson, and fully experience the panic of seeing the Rio Grande and knowing he can’t swim.
Singing and playing over a dozen instruments between the two, Quijada and Robinson find a way to create a beat and a rhythm through the act of live-looping before our very eyes—huge kudos to looping systems architecture and sound design by Mikhail Fiksel (Broadway’s Dana H.). It’s a captivating construction, tapping little gadgets well-placed across the stage, designed solidly, like a derailed railroad car turned monument and DJ booth, by Riw Rakkulchon (Snowy Owl’s The Waiting Game) and lit impressively by Mextly Couzin (Broadway’s JOB), to bring layered life to the synthesized sound, before finally filling the spaces created with spoken and sung words of poetry and protest. It does, in moments, feel like the constructions slow this train down with the repetition of the building formula. Yet, always, once the background beat has been crafted together, the story and the storytelling take over and make Mexodus fly.
“Why does the bird in the cage sing?” they ask, citing the Maya Angelou poem, and noting the answer. It sings for freedom because of hope. Because it is an innate expression of the bird’s true nature. Because it is a powerful act of resistance against the bars that imprison. And it is a way to remind itself of liberation and connection. The poem and the song the bird sings are a radical expression of pain, sorrow, and hope against the oppressive constraints of its captivity, and cannot be heard without discovering the pain of oppression. And in Mexodus, that expression comes in live-recorded loops of musical brilliance that hit hard and true, especially once Henry is saved by a Mexican named Carlos, expertly embodied by Quijada, who allows him to remain with him on his rented property.
Not that this stunning musical wasn’t interesting before, but when these two stand facing each other, each carrying a whole textbook of emotional responses and fears, of anger and betrayal, Mexodus elevates itself to something most thrilling and emotionally captivating, thanks to choreographer Tony Thomas (Folger’s Metamorphoses). Carlos could easily turn him over to the Texas bounty hunters, and his financial worries, at least for the moment, would evaporate. But he sees something else, and we all feel it inside his portrayal and their music. It’s a shared trauma construct live-looped with wild abandonment, of two men, angry at the world around them and the injustice they both have endured at the hands of these white Texan males.
That’s a story I can connect with, not just intellectually but personally. Here and now, knowing my own familial Indigenous history, while watching the United States easily slip into authoritarianism based on a white supremacist belief system, enforced by the rich white men who, sadly, were elected to govern. And with that modern-day trauma as background, this dynamic and powerful unpacking dives headfirst into the experiences of intersectionality and solidarity between oppressed groups, and how we are taught to separate and fear the ‘other’.
A galvanizing flashback to Quijada’s gas station encounter that distills America’s racial discord is one of the most chilling and thoughtful, finding an exact way to unpack the difficult history of this country. And in their sharp minds and musical skills, Quijada and Robinson have created, with Mexodus, a piece of engaging history-telling layered with the most alive, infectious music, poetry, and song, blending musical styles and cultural expressions with insightful, meaningful lessons in how to be a human, with honesty, integrity, and empathy. All of which are needed more than ever if the United States — and the world — are to survive this assault on humanity.
