Kay Mercedes Photo courtesy of Penumbra

The title character, Marisol Perez, grew up in a Bronx barrio, the daughter of Puerto Rican parents. She worked and studied hard, completed college, and landed a good job editing science books for a Midtown publishing house. Though the neighborhood of her childhood has fallen into decay and is considered "dangerous," she feels at home there. Then, on the day the play begins, she is terrorized on the subway by a man wielding a golf club whose appearance, speech, and behavior peg him as being on drugs, psychologically warped, or both. Marisol is used to dealing with tough characters, but this guy cuts to the quick, and she finds herself on her knees, praying, as the brute is about to strike her.

An intervention occurs and Marisol is spared. At first this seems a random act, but later that evening, as Marisol is trying to sleep through the incessant hollering of neighbors and noise from the street, she discovers that she has had the protection of a guardian angel, but that it's coming to an end. The angels are banding together to fight against God, who is becoming incompetent with age but unwilling to step down. If they prevail, they promise a better universe for everyone, but in the meantime, they are leaving the human race to its own devices. Or is all this a dream?

At work the next day, Marisol's feisty co-worker, June, is greatly relieved to see her, having heard on the news that a woman named Marisol Perez had been killed in the Bronx–though, it turns out that many women with that name reside in the borough. A man barges in clearly in the wrong place and aggressively makes unreasonable demands of Marisol. She is visibly shaken and June insists that Marisol stay at her apartment in safely gentrified Brooklyn. Only June neglects to tell Marisol about her highly disturbed brother, Lenny (also LaNave), who has developed a fetish around Marisol. June kicks Lenny out of the apartment and invites Marisol to move in, following a gesture of both kindness and intimacy, and Marisol wants to believe she has found a safe haven.

But the idea of anyplace being safe is quickie vanishing. Having returned to the Bronx to pack some things, her trek back to Brooklyn becomes a waking nightmare, the city a disorienting blur, social norms imploding. She meets a woman draped in furs, who is deranged after being incarcerated for exceeding her credit card limit and a burn victim in a wheelchair searching for his lost skin. She also has increasingly troubling encounters with Lenny.

In 1992, Rivera may have been writing a cautionary tale. Today, it plays like a parable for tomorrow's news cycle. Having said all that, it does leave us at its conclusion with a glimmer of hope, of recreating connections on the dust heap of abject loss. That glimmer is just that, by no means certainty, but suggesting that to endure and rebuild might not be completely insane, and that for those who can survive on just a glimmer, there is hope.

Under Sarah Bellamy's vibrant direction, Mariel grabs us by the throat and holds our attention. The relentless disintegration of order raises the possibility that we need to consider the implausible as plausible, the absurd as reasonable, the unthinkable as likely, even if we totally dismiss the intervention of guardian angels and consider only the actions of human beings against their fellow creatures.

As Marisol, Kay Mercedes, an actor with local roots who comes to our stages after stays in New York and California, gives an astounding performance, conveying a spectrum of emotions, but never abandoning the core strength that enables Marisol to keep going. She demands our attention, and her forceful presence ensures that we never give up on Marisol. Paul LaNave, who has developed into a reliable actor in a wide range of roles, plays three different predatory men, giving each a distinct nature while creating the overarching sense of male dominance as a baked-in quality that women must always guard against. LaNave's portrayal of Lenny is exceptionally well hewn. We shrink back from his vile nature, yet are drawn to have sympathy as he reveals the agony of his own demons.

The indispensable James Craven gives an absolutely flawless performance as the man in search of his skin. He makes a tremendous impact, although the role is relatively small. Sarah Marsh delivers a terrific turn as the women in furs, pivoting from pathetic to adversarial with total credibility. Bri Patnode conveys June's optimism and take-charge brio before revealing the agony of life with her demented brother, kept securely below the surface. Vinecia Coleman expresses the angel's steadfast conviction that the time has come to battle on a higher plane, even if it means leaving those under her protection to fend for themselves. When Marisol asks, "What will happen to me?" and the angel replies, "I don't know," we feel the Angel's regret: this is not a cavalier neglect of duty, but an existential crisis that cannot be avoided.

The physical production adds immeasurably to the power of this work. Maruti Evans' set design, Miko Simmons' projections, Marcus Dilliard's lighting design, and Scott Edward's sound design are brilliantly melded together, creating a feeling of generalized mayhem within the context of specific locations. In one scene, images looking up from the ground through a forest of towering skyscrapers suggest the inconsequence of an individual in the world created by mankind. Matthew LeFebvre's costume designs and Jamakah Webb's hair and make-up designs further contribute to the trajectory of the narrative, especially as stylish, well-put-together Marisol slips into a woeful state of dishevelment.

Marisol is a bold, appropriate choice for production at this time in the life of our nation. Penumbra and Teatro del Pueblo have made all the right artistic choices, leaving it to audiences to sort out the political, social, and moral implications in Rivera's work. Thankfully, the artistry of this production provides uplift to balance the gravity of its ideas.

Marisol runs through November 2, 2025, at Penumbra Theatre, 270 North Kent Street, Saint Paul MN. For tickets and information, please call 651-2242025 -3180 or visit www.penumbratheatre.org.

Playwright: José Rivera; Director: Sarah Bellamy; Scenic Designer: Maruti Evans; Costume Designer: Matthew LeFebvre; Assistant Costume Designer: Caroline Amarai Zaltron; Sound Designer: Scott Edwards; Lighting Designer: Marcus Dilliard; Props Designer: Jenny Moeller; Wigs and Makeup Designer: Jamakah Webb; Projections Designer: Miko Simmons; Intimacy Choreographer: Kaja Dunn; Production Manager: Antonio De La Vega; Stage Manager: Megan West; Assistant Stage Manager: Constance Brevell.

Cast: Vinecia Coleman (Angel), James Craven (Man with Scar Tissue/Subway Announcer voiceover), Antonio De La Vega (Radio Announcer voiceover), Paul LaNave (Lenny/Man with Golf Club/Man with Ice Cream), Sarah Marsh (Woman with Furs/Unhoused Citizen), Kay Mercedes (Marisol), Bri Patnode (June).