Borderlands' Latest Production Gives Reality A Make-Over. By Mari Wadsworth DEPORTING THE DIVAS looks like a diorama of a theatrical production: It's a big production crammed into an admirably designed shoebox set at the Pima Center for the Arts Black Box Theatre. This in no way detracts from the quality of the performance; but it's the overwhelming impression left about the state of local theatre. Feast or famine: Do you pack the house in a small theatre or bite the production cost only to face empty seats in a larger one? More's the pity, because if Divas does this well in close quarters, it would be hands down amazing as a full-scale production. The original comedy, by Los Angeles playwright Guillermo Reyes, has come a long way since its debut as a staged reading in the 1995 Border Playwrights Project. The writing is good, the acting near perfect and they've made the most of the intimate space with artistic lighting, roll-away sets and well-executed sound effects. Under the direction of Chris Wilken, Divas really shines with an attention to detail and professionalism often missing from local theatre. Albert Soto, Anthony Bernal and J.D. Smith are an absolute pleasure to watch as they effortlessly switch hats (to say the least) to play a variety of male and female characters. It is because what Wilken, Reyes and cast have achieved is so engaging that there is something sad about the larger-than-life divas who don't seem to have sufficient room to tango. There seems to be something telling about the fact that these glorious queens have come out of the closet only to be confined to a set the size of one. It's an irony that fits well within the parameters of Reyes' imagined world where a Mexican-American border guard struggles with wild, film noir fantasies of drag queens and femmes fatales. Scale is definitely a constraint in this delightful political comedy about "passing" through life: illegals passing as citizens, men passing as women, gays passing as straights, Anglos passing as Latinos, even playwrights passing as characters in a setting where fantasy passes for reality. What Reyes tries to create is a world on the edge, a metaphorical and literal border town where his characters struggle to define who they really are, and how that matches up with who they would really like to be. It's an ambitious undertaking, and with sparkling wit Reyes pokes fun at the multiple identities vying for attention within us all. Conspicuously absent, though, is the struggle. The lead character Michael, played by Curtis Acosta, is supposed to be a recently separated Latino male struggling with his sexuality. His militaristic Anglo boss at the INS is about to become his brother-in-law, he's been assigned to deport his secret new boyfriend, and every time he tries to get a grip on reality he's accosted by fantasies involving guardian angels in drag. But rather than seem at all tortured, he seems downright gleeful. It's an incongruity that makes it difficult to take his transformation seriously. Instead it all seems like a game. Conflict would be more interesting, more illuminating. In fact, Reyes himself seems to fall into the same clash with identity as his characters. While he does an excellent job of making us laugh, he isn't nearly as successful at making his point. His humor is too political not to have a message; and he raises a lot of important issues--immigration policy, cultural identity, being gay in a world full of machismo, the importance of relationships, the role of fantasy in shaping our reality--only to reduce them to a punchline. Rather than dig deeper, he falls back on being ironic. It reduces his underlying sincerity to a gag: Latinos that don't speak Spanish, a Chicano border guard ("Mexican American," he corrects), a flamboyant Anglo character whose great confession is that he's "an illegal alien trapped in a citizen's body," a man playing a drag queen playing a femme fatale...nothing is as it appears to be, which is great fun. But along with all the wit, the wisdom deserves equal billing. It's a point the playwright seems to have struggled with himself, and he shares his struggle with the audience by scripting his characters to critique his writing. They break out of character to speak as individuals (all the while remaining in character). They complain about the way he's drawn his (their) characters, that he's made them too dominating, hasn't given them a big enough part, or has failed to get to the heart of the issues. The playwright, though we never see him, is a de facto character inhabiting a fantastic world where meanings are supposed to be blurred. It unnecessarily softens what is rich material for biting commentary. Reyes' voice, as creator, is obscured by his voice as a character; and in the end he chooses to make us laugh each time he has the opportunity to makes us squirm. The effect is a half-truth: a scathing political satire trapped in the body of a romantic comedy. But boy, what a show! Deporting the Divas, a co-production with Borderlands Theater and the Pima Community College Drama Department, continues with performances at 8 p.m. Thursday through Saturday, and at 2 p.m. Sunday, July 21, at the PCC Center for the Arts Black Box Theater, 2202 W. Anklam Road. Tickets range from $6 to $10, available at Antigone Books, Jeff's Classical Records and the PCC West Campus Cashier's office. Call 882-7406 for reservations and information.

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