Show: In The Time of the Butterflies
Company: Teatro Vista
Venue: Victory Gardens Theater (2433 N Lincoln Ave)
Die Roll: 18
“In The Time of the Butterflies” begins with a dance and ends with a song. In between these musical moments lie arguments about sacrifice and purpose, along with tense political confrontations that result in imprisonment and execution. One might think this a strange mix of elements, but the drama is equally well-served by poetry and radical calls for change.
Teatro Vista’s Chicago premiere, adapted by Caridad Svich from Julia Álvarez’s fictionalized account of real-life events, concerns the present and past of Dedé Mirabal (portrayed as an adult by Charin Álvarez and as a young woman by Rinska Carrasco). An American writer, also played by Carrasco, has come to the Dominican Republic to hear the story of Dedé’s sisters — known by legend and code as “the butterflies” — who lost their lives while working to unseat dictator Rafael Trujillo during the 1960’s. Dedé recounts the birth of Minerva’s (Flavia Martínez) fiery activism, the simmering conflict within the grieving Patria (Sari Sánchez), and the burgeoning political beliefs of Mate (Ayssette Muñóz). Meanwhile, the writer struggles with whether or not she is capable of doing justice to the Mirabals’ experiences.
The play covers an epic chunk of the historical record, starting in the 1930’s when the girls still lived under the protection of their capitulating father, and ending right after their deaths. Though certain events are rushed through during direct address monologues, Svich shrewdly gives each woman a specific emotional journey. The audience understands how all the injustices Minerva witnessed would lead her to take part in a revolution. The loss of a child shapes Patria’s choice to lead a coup. And Mate’s evolution from boy-crazy teen to defiant prisoner is particularly thrilling to behold.
The three mourned sisters are so fascinating, one wonders whether the play would hit harder without its present-day frame. Thematically, I understand why the older Dedé must council a reflection of her younger self to act, having stayed clear of revolutionary activities and lost her sisters regardless. But Svich does not have enough stage time to generate stakes for an unknown author’s inability to recount the sisters’ full stories. The writer’s anger over the Mirabals’ deaths, and her drive to wrench something meaningful from that loss, is relatable for a contemporary audience living in a free society. But we learn so little about this scribe’s life, and the elder Dedé’s interactions with her, that her internal conflict cannot hold the same weight as the external obstacles threatening Patria, Minerva, and Mate.
Director Ricardo Gutiérrez takes special care celebrating and cementing the sisters’ relationships across their incredible lifetimes. During their first scene together, the foursome discusses romantic partners and dancing with infectious playfulness. By the time they are driving to visit their husbands in prison (a trip Patria, Minerva, and Mate will not return from), a similar energetic conversation about purses and shoes breaks out, indicating that their joy for life and concern for one another’s well-being has not diminished. Muñóz especially stands out in a vivacious, joking performance, while Sánchez carries the audience up mountains of emotional highs and down valleys of parental devastation in a monologue remembering the burial of her first born. Carrasco communicates the deep frustration of those left behind whenever she spars with Martínez, and Álvarez’s quiet attitude speaks volumes. As these women age and endure, they wield Svich’s poetic descriptions of waste and war like weapons, and Gutiérrez encourages their investment in recounting lost lives.
And then there is the music. Throughout, dance and song play an integral part in the sisters’ world. A waltz is used to proposition Minerva at a fancy political party, while the Mirabals embrace salsa as a way to escape their troubles in the family courtyard. A propagandist DJ spins records supporting Trujillo’s leadership, and Minerva and Mate write a song of protest while facing torture and rape in prison. Svich’s imagistic dialogue highlights the heightened nature of treacherous times, but sound designer Brandon Reed and composer Gabe Ruíz’s music buoys the characters’ spirits, while also invoking the ghosts that haunt Dedé later in life.
Because a world without memory is not one worth living in, the play postulates. The elder Dedé may not remember events precisely as they happened, and certain stories are colored with hallucinatory sights and sounds. But that does not mean both personal beauty and political movements should not be preserved in equal measure.
TEN WORD SUMMARY: Wonderful ensemble work a highlight of this poetic, political drama.
DICE RATING: d12 — “Heckuva Good Show”