By Shelley A. Sackett

Playwright Luis Alfaro has put lot on his plate. His Oedipus el Rey (2010) swirls together themes of contemporary social iniquity, anger, frustration, and political and social outrage with the classic myth of Sophocles’ mythic character, Oedipus. Throw in big ticket philosophical questions about divine fate, prophecy, religion, self-determination and thirst for messianic power, and it’s a dish created for a hearty appetite and a strong stomach.

Set in the world of South Central Los Angeles Chicano gang culture, the play opens in a prison complex with five men clad in orange. The set (Hana S. Kim) is spare, sparse and modern. A Mexican folk art-inspired mural with flowers and a Virgin Mary dominates a brick wall at the back of the stage. The only other design elements are vertical bars.

The men begin a call and response. “Oye (Hey)!” “Que (What)?” 

Like a Greek chorus, they break into a swaggering, humorous rap riff that bridges millennia (Sophocles’ original opens with a choral entry song called the parodos). “Who got a story?” one shouts. Something they haven’t heard, something that won’t confuse them, something they can understand. “Tell me a story, mommy,” one particularly menacing inmate pleads. “Stories are all we got.”

They point to a young man in the yard, shirtless and doing an impressive number of push-ups. “Who is this man?” they ask in English and Spanish. This enigmatic man who grew up in prison “fatherless but with a father by his side.” This man who wanted to “beat the system and shape his own destiny.”

Unsurprisingly, it is our ill-fated protagonist, Oedipus (Juan Arturo). Our modern day Oedipus’ story parallels that of his 2,500-year-old namesake. He limps (his feet deliberately damaged by his father right before he tries to have his son killed), he is destined to be king (el Rey of the barrio as opposed to king of Thebes) and he is destined to kill his father and bed his mother. Stories may be boring and depressing, the prisoners lament, but “stories are all we got.”

As they reveal his name, they shed their uniforms and take on the roles of characters in the tale they are about to tell.

For the next almost two hours (no intermission), Alfaro does his best to morph the Greek myth into 21^st century relevance. When he hits the mark, he is highly effective, illuminating parallels between ancient Greek curses and modern economic injustice and social oppression. When he misses, however, he misses big.

The story the convicts tell is that of Oedipus’ release from prison and return to the “family business” in the barrio. There is violence and menace, macho bravado claims of god-like invincibility, and women who bear the brunt. Creon (Jaime José Hernàndez) is a prison buddy of Oedipus, and he heads to his house after his release. Creon lives with his sister, Jocasta (Melisa Pereyra, the best part of the show), whose husband, Laius (Gabe Martínez) was recently killed in a road rage incident (by guess who?). Laius was “el Rey” of the barrio, and now Jocasta is essentially “la Reina.” Creon makes Oedipus promise that he will only stay a week and that he will leave Jocasta alone.

Of course, Oedipus does neither. The scenes between him and Jocasta, as they get to know each other, are the most powerful in the play. Like a tender pas de deux, they lyrically showcase their hardness, vulnerability and ability to shift mood. Pereya, as Jocasta, is particularly effective, slowly softening her grief and self-protectiveness and elevating Oedipus in the process.

Before long, he and Jocasta announce their plans to wed (after a three-month bedding reminiscent of John and Yoko. There is even a prolonged nude scene). Oedipus has not only defied Creon’s wishes; he has succeeded in pushing him aside and becoming “el Rey” of the barrio.

The play ends predictably (Oedipus begs Jocasta to blind him, she gets him to kill her) after the big reveal is revealed, but between the opening prison yard scene and that moment, Alfaro gives his audience choreographed violence, a barrio bash where the audience is invited to dance on the stage, and visual projections that are hit and miss. There are other flashy moments, too, with the actors playing doo-wop singers, street hawkers and party throwers, but that just seems aimed at masking the fact that the script, though at times a compelling blend of fresh humor and ancient saga, is too long and too unfocused. 

Another recent version of the Oedipus myth, the 2024 London West End and 2025 Broadway smash hit, Oedipus (pronounced “Eee-dipus), was a major modern adaptation written and directed by Robert Icke. This play transformed the same myth into a gripping political thriller, setting the entire narrative on a tense election night. Somehow, it worked as both a retelling and a brand new production, meshing both strands into a single thread.

Director Loretta Greco’s reprise of the play she directed when it premiered at San Francisco’s Magic Theatre in 2010 lacks the urgency and coherence that might have helped make sense out of Alfaro’s often jumbled, overreaching script. An excellent cast and strong production tries its best, but even the show-biz antics and humor can’t provide the dénouement we, and the ill-fated Oedipus, long for.

‘Oedipus el Rey’ – Written by Luis Alfaro; Directed by Loretta Greco; Scenic and Projection Designs by Hana S. Kim; Costume Design by Alex Jaeger; Lighting Design by Reza Behjat; Sound and Original Music by Jake Rodriguez. Presented by The Huntington Theatre at The Calderwood Pavilion, 527 Tremont St. through June 14.

For more information, visit https://www.huntingtontheatre.org