THEATRE REVIEW:

“THE TRUE HISTORY OF COCA-COLA IN MEXICO” at San Diego Repertory Theatre

Published in Orange County Register November 1995

Unlike the product it reveres and reviles, 'The True History of Coca-Cola in Mexico' is far from syrupy sweet and nutritionally empty. But it is certainly effervescent and it might leave a bit of an aftertaste.

This frantic, frenetic satire is a film within a film within a play, a documentary that turns into a MOCKumentary. It's heavy on history, and righteous indignation. As the authors take aim at a vast array of bi-national targets, they miraculously manage to turn the muzzle back on themselves, blasting wide open the hypocrisy of artists and the arrogance of American media. Delicious self-mockery keeps the play from becoming preachy or sanctimonious.

The primary characters, Patrick Scott and Aldo Velasco, are two naive, American artists, hell-bent on exposing American cultural imperialism in Mexico. They were created by two naive, American artists (Patrick Scott and Aldo Velasco), hell-bent on exposing American cultural imperialism in Mexico. The playwrights constructed the piece in 1993, as fellow theater students at the University of Washington, and performed it themselves in Seattle, Eugene, Minneapolis and Tucson.

The San Diego Repertory Theatre production marks the California premiere. The featured actors here are Herbert Siguenza, original member of the hilarious Chicano Latino comedy troupe, Culture Clash, and Ron Campbell, winner of nine Drama-Logue awards and an L.A. Drama Critics' Circle Award.

Together in 'Coca-Cola,' they recount 500 years of Mexican history, playing 36 characters, ranging from conquistadors to curanderos, a series of dead presidents (each Mexican successor conveniently offs his predecessor), rock stars, beach babes, Porfirio Diaz, Pancho Villa, Adolf Hitler, and John S. Pemberton, inspired inventor of the titular drink that is the ubiquitous symbol of capitalism, colonialism, and the elusive American Dream.

Campbell and Siguenza are masterful with the rapid-fire repartee, jackrabbit costume changes, cross-gender portrayals and physical comedy. They make you feel like 'Greater Tuna' has slid south of the border, on Coke.

In their Pat and Aldo portrayals, they ingenuously embark on the making of a documentary about the submersion of Mexico's rich cultural history by a tidal wave of American commercialism. "The U.S.," we are told in the endless and unvarying documentary narrations, "has used Coca-Cola as a military weapon, a capitalistic tank.... an economic battering ram..."

But in their insatiable quest for the 'truth, 'and in the name of art, the filmmaking duo exploit their subjects and expose their own disingenuousness, dragging all artists down with them. In a self-deprecating but self-righteous revelation, Aldo (Siguenza) explains that art is "a tool used by middle-class liberals to fool themselves into thinking that they're not part of the system."

The actors are in the play and outside it, commenting to and cavorting with the audience, twisting themselves into flesh-pretzels, dying slo-mo deaths, making split-second transitions from the pinnacle of parodic genius to the comedy bargain basement of broad burlesque and crude gestures. Part of the latter problem is the script, which swings wildly from scathing to silly.

Campbell and Siguenza are extremely talented, but they are not reined in. Director Amy Gonzalez, knowing that she was working with consummate improvisers, seems to have given them a little too much rope. In the most effective scenes, such as the melodramatic Mexican telenovela (performed en espanol), they are focused, controlled and very funny. But sometimes the frenzy veers out of control and the ad libs seem unnecessary. In an effort to achieve constant and extreme variety in voices and accents, the laugh line may be swallowed up.

Unfortunately, Gonzalez has chosen not to honor the playwrights' intention that the show appear to be entirely run, staffed and stage managed by the two actors. But we do see some of the seams showing, as the players change onstage, instantaneously, into colorful, evocative costumes (designed by Cheryl Lindley), or transform themselves offstage by sprinting behind a series of curvaceous, whimsical, Aztec-inspired monoliths (designed by Victoria Petrovich). Throughout, they're enveloped in Brenda Berry's inventive lighting and Victor Zupanc's exuberant sound.

Like any good American product, 'The True History of Coca-Cola in Mexico' is well packaged and well marketed. And like a good (theater) consumer, you should succumb to temptation. Remember, Coke adds life.

©1995 Patté Productions Inc.