‘American Mariachi’ at the Alley Theatre is a universal story of love … – Houston Chronicle

Many Houstonians, regardless of ethnicity, will recognize the Mexican-American family at the center of the story. They’re hardworking, and they love each other. But it’s a static sort of love built on habit and loyalty. Dreams have been pushed aside by more mundane responsibilities.

Lucha is studying to be a nurse but is obligated to take care of her mother, Amalia, who is fading into a shell of her former self. She barely recognizes her family. Lucha’s father Federico is away for weeks traveling with his mariachi band and spends his time at home alone, grappling with an unspoken anger. 

Lucha’s lifeline is her cousin Boli, a free spirit with feathered hair and a love for activist Dolores Huerta. When a single copy of an old family record is broken, Lucha and Boli vow to create an all-female mariachi group and play the lost song for Amalia. 

Though it’s filled with music, “American Mariachi” isn’t a musical in the standard sense. The songs don’t directly drive the plot. And it isn’t a jukebox musical because the show isn’t just a device to showcase the songs.

The music in “American Mariachi” is an extension of the characters and of their culture. It’s often gorgeous, heartbreaking and sometimes hilariously painful as Lucha, Boli and their recruits struggle to learn their instruments. The actresses all learned how to play specifically for this show under the masterful hand of Jose Longoria of Mariachi Imperial de America. 

Every aspect of this show radiates love, thanks in large part to director KJ Sanchez’s gentle hand. A scene where Federico attempts to feed his wife is devastating in its silence. And the ending (don’t worry, no spoilers) is a culmination of love, loss and hope, as raw and emotional as anything I’ve seen onstage. The rotating stage is integral to the emotion, a glowing library of memories and music.

Lucha is the center and guides the audience through the show. But for “American Mariachi” to fully succeed, she must also be established as her own character. Gianna DiGregorio Rivera does a beautiful job with the balance. Through body language and voice inflection, she shows us the push/pull between a dutiful daughter and a young woman in search of her own identity.

The entire cast, in fact, is able to go beyond the obvious. Every one of these women has an electric stage presence. Briana J. Resa earns big laughs as Boli. But she’s also an anchor for Lucha and confronts her own vulnerabilities. Diana Irais Alcaraz-Villa brings urgency and poignancy to Isabel, who puts aside wifely duties to finally acknowledge her own dreams. Elissa Cuellar is disarming and charming as church girl Gabby. Maggie Bofill steals multiple scenes as Soyla, a hair salon owner with little musical talent but big confidence.

Sarita Ocón rarely speaks as Amalia. But she’s able to say all she needs through her eyes and body. It’s a gripping, heartbreaking performance. Orlando Arriaga does much of the same as Federico, whose machismo and heartache often prevent him from saying what he truly means. Luis Quintero switches impressively between multiple roles, most notably a pair of twin brothers. Hugo E. Carbajal provides fatherly support as Mino, Lucha’s estranged godfather.

“The gringos complain that mariachis play too loud, wear those funny suits and bother people when they’re eating,” Boli says in one of the play’s early scenes.

That may all be true. And some of us wouldn’t have it any other way.