‘The House on Mango Street’ is poignant, moving

The magic of Sandra Cisneros’ 1984 novel The House on Mango Street is its intimacy; though the world may seem foreign, dark at times and sparkling at others, the characters seem like family. The play follows a year in the life of a young Chicana, Esperanza (played by the gracious Elizabeth Nungaray), as she comes of age in a world ridden with racial tension, poverty, issues of sexuality and violence. Her journey is expressed in vignettes, the interconnectedness of which is conveyed poignantly through a talented ensemble whose members interchangeably play Esperanza’s neighbors, friends and family. Adapted for the stage by Amy Ludwig and directed by Alexandra B. Meda, Greenway Arts Alliance’s The House on Mango Street captures the grandiosity of Cisneros’ prose while carefully balancing the contemporary relevance of its larger themes through the intimacy of its performance.

Ludwig’s adaptation presents two versions of Esparanza, a young and an old, which supplement each other’s story of what happened. The Fun Home-esque narrative style works seamlessly to underscore the unified nature of past and present in a way that dissolves the linearity of time. When telling the tragic story of her friend Sally’s sexual assault, the audience witnesses a heartwarming moment of the two Esparanzas coming together, embracing as the younger one weeps. The older Esparanza, played by the powerful Estela Garcia, braids the younger’s hair and wipes away her tears as they sit center stage. The scene highlights the hopeful fertility of storytelling — the boons of a wound — reminding us that no matter the circumstances, there will come a time to coddle the child within, and to make memories less haunting.

What accentuated the power of the performance was how in tune both Nungaray and Garcia were with each other. Aside from a few minor dialogue hiccups, the pair delivered much of Cisneros’ original prose with the intensity and grace of spoken word poets.

A certain childish gaiety perfaced the play, a facet that lay principally in the hands of ensemble members Graciela Lizet Rodriguez and USC alumnus Christine Marie Mantilla. The two drove various scenes that explored girlish curiosity and fear about what awaited them in the faraway world of womanhood. The girls giggled about how their hips would “bloom like roses” with pregnancy, dipped their feet in the world of dangerous flirtation while tip-toeing the streets in a neighbor’s old heels, and made up their minds that they would not be one of those women who “sit their sadness on their elbow.” Perhaps some credit for the play’s streak of joyful innocence should go to costume designer Beryl Brachman. With sunflowers in her hair and peach overalls, Esperanza appeared radiant with curiosity despite the underlying tragedy of her stories. Rodriguez was also exceedingly captivating in pink skinny jeans and a baby blue hoodie-like garment.

With a minimalistic set and complete lack of props, the play revolved around a bleak, three-story wooden structure that sat center stage. The structure transformed over Esperanza’s many stories into a bicycle, a crowded yellow Cadillac, the porch of a house and everything in between. That being said, the minimalist approach to the mise-en-scène provoked a thrilling motif of physicality from the cast. Franceli Chapman of the ensemble consistently stole the spotlight with her fluid, joyful dancing; in an early vignette she plays Marine, a seductive young girl who smokes cigarettes and dances as Esperanza watches. With her arms raised high and a cigarette between her fingers, Marine’s shadow grows into a consuming presence that captures the rebellious lining of innocence.

Perhaps most encapsulating of the divide between Mango Street and the rest of America was the story of a man who brings Marine, his pregnant wife, to the country. Esperanza and other neighbors speculate that the reason she doesn’t leave her house is because she’s afraid to speak English. Suddenly, Esperanza’s assumption becomes reality: Her husband yells at her, demanding that she learn English. As her son sings the jingle of an English Pepsi commercial, she wails, “Speak English.”

As the U.S. continues its battle with countless issues of race and immigration, The House on Mango Street reminds us what and who we are fighting for. In the play’s finale, a teary-eyed Esperanza declares that one day she will “say goodbye to Mango Street.” As the ensemble gathers around her, she says: “I’m too strong for her to keep me here forever.”

What she means is, one day, she’ll find a life that is free of the various issues that color her life in the impoverished suburb. What she means is, we need to find a way to help.