One of the Good Ones
You can learn a lot about Gloria Calderón Kellett’s One of the Good Ones from this publicity photo taken by Rich Soublet II. The fellow at the door looks like a clueless gringo who thought it would be a good idea to bring a Mexican piñata as a present for his first visit to his Latine girlfriend’s parents. (Okay, the pic would not have tipped you to “Latine” — which said girlfriend proposes to her parents as a more sensible, but still acceptably gender-neutral substitute for “Latinx” — unless you could tell from the bougie layout and décor that Mom and Dad had surely sent her to college, and made so bold as to conclude from there.) But no! He’s Mexican, Mexico-city born and raised! And the piñata? European in origin, a sweet-stuffed tool of religious indoctrination, courtesy of Spanish Catholic missionaries. Disappointed Dad there may be of Cuban extraction, but he’s American-born, and just look at his outfit: he couldn’t dress any whiter if he tried. When it’s time to celebrate, he pops the cork on aged first-growth Bordeaux! Oh, and if Mom doesn’t look like she’s spent all day in the kitchen prepping for this momentous meeting, it’s because she hasn’t. She’s a professional; she had the enchiladas brought in.
Really, the more I look, the more there is to admire; Soublet has captured so much here. Young Marcos’ smile is clearly meant to be friendly and disarming — but perhaps it's just a little too self-assured, given the situation? Where is the traditional fear and trembling? Mama Ilana has one hand placed on her belly, her only child’s first home — now just look at Yoli, all grown up. Yoli’s hands, meanwhile, are being wrung in anxiety — and there is much matter for anxiety tonight. Mom and Dad mean well, but they’re in such need of education. (The phrase “productive, meaningful dialogue” gets used conversationally here.) But they’re still Mom and Dad, and family is so important sometimes…
Dad — Enrique — has the most fun as the grumpy but good-natured old guy dealing with a changing world. He’s willing to let his daughter call out his “patriarchal bullshit,” but remains confident that she is slinging some bullshit of her own. (His regular pauses “to recap” and simplify matters make for a reliable gag.) He can chide youngsters for talking like a self-help book, then hoist them on their own petard by announcing that his therapist taught him that emotional outbursts are healthy. “Why are you upset that your father is healed?” He’s smart enough to discuss assimilation and cultural loss, and humble enough to admit that he wants his grandkids to look like him, even though the one may have nothing to do with the other.
Some of the humor is a touch labored — the two encounters with Pedro the delivery guy verge into sitcom territory. There is also the obligatory “We love white people! Some of our best friends are white!” Some of the drama is downright forced — Yoli lamenting that because she was loved and supported, that made her feel like anything less than perfection made her worthless. I'm pretty sure feeling supported means knowing it’s okay to fail. Some of the conflicts are too easily resolved — you can’t declare “my heart is broken” and be right as rain two minutes later, not even in stage-time. But mostly, the play is funny; mostly, the drama feels real; and mostly, the conflict reads as what it is: generations reckoning with their differences because they don’t want them to become divides.
When
Ongoing until Sunday, June 22, 2025
Hours
| Sundays, 2pm |
| Tuesdays, 7pm |
| Wednesdays, 7pm |
| Thursdays, 7pm |
| Fridays, 8pm |
| Saturdays, 8pm |