Boleros for the Disenchanted: Amor y Dolor at PCS Theater
by Ash Kotter
EUSEBIO: If you can’t get your hands dirty, if you can’t stand the smell or the pity or the pain in the other person’s face, if you’d rather be anywhere else, then you’re not ready to be married, my young friends. Call it off. Because it’s either this or it’s nothing.
José Rivera’s Boleros for the Disenchanted is a deeply moving portrait of marriage painted with unvarnished honesty. Inspired by his mother’s captivating storytelling about her long marriage, Rivera crafts a profoundly poetic and uninhibited play that follows Flora, a faithful young woman, as she navigates betrayal and heartbreak in 1950s Puerto Rico, and later enduring challenges of her decades-long marriage to her husband Eusebio after immigrating to the United States. Through two acts, the play examines the trials of love, exploring themes of devotion, sacrifice, and resilience against the backdrop of cultural identity and migration. Rivera doesn’t offer a fairy tale with Boleros — as he writes later in the play, “love isn’t meant to be veiled or prettified or perfumed.”
As a reviewer familiar with Rivera’s body of work, I encourage you — don’t let the weight of this subject matter fool you into thinking you’re in for an evening of pure emotional heavy lifting. Rivera intentionally uses audacious humor and cultural idiosyncrasies as a reprieve from the intensity of the drama he creates, and the team behind PCS Theater’s production of Boleros understands this assignment, delivering raw honesty with hilarity, making for a wholeheartedly intimate night of theatre.
Director Natalie Payán crafts a production that artfully balances pathos and humor. Her use of the small Second Stage Theater is effective and deliberate — with staging that enables complex dynamics to reveal themselves through close and fast-paced conversation while emphasizing the beautiful imagery in Rivera’s text by allowing actors to soak up the stage in full as their characters navigate his lyrically written monologues. Sean McGarry’s intimacy and fight choreography lend a delicate precision to tense conflict and tender connection moments.
The cast delivers nuanced, heartfelt performances that breathe life into Rivera’s text. Desiree Lara expertly navigates between the fierce wit of Doña Milla and the wisdom and resilience of Aged Flora. Through her incredible on-stage listening power, Lara commands the art of saying the world without even saying a word. Damarilis “Dee” Phillips’ fiery and tender Young Flora brims with emotional depth, capturing the essence of “a woman with a sparkle in her eyes who is carrying around something sad, a little painful, and can’t trust that the world might offer her something better” (after all, Flora’s middle name is Dolores, which translates to “sorrows”). The pair create an intensely believable mother-daughter connection through shared gestures and physicality amongst the three distinct yet connected roles.
Randino and Carlos Jiga beautifully embody the duality of Eusebio’s character, offering complementary yet distinct perspectives on his journey through life. Jiga’s depiction of young Eusebio radiates playful confidence, and his gentle swagger and flighty, musical voice embody the optimism and charm of a man at the cusp of faithful love. In contrast, Randino’s aged Eusebio is a poignant reflection of that youthful vitality, weathered by time, hardship, and guilt. Eusebio’s vulnerability escalates through his declining health in Act II, and high praise goes to Director Payán and Randino for sensitively dramatizing private moments of humanity in a way that could have quickly become gratuitous had it not been navigated with care.
Luis Aguilar’s Manuelo earned “oh Hell no” groans and gasps from the audience, nailing the character’s slimy bravado with a voice dripping with condescension as he attempts to mansplain his infidelity. Aguilar captures Manuelo's egotism and insincerity with a sharp edge, making his eventual dismissal by Flora even more satisfying. His portrayal of the Priest in Act II studies calm pragmatism and gentle authority. His measured cadence and thoughtful delivery bring quiet wisdom to the role, offering Eusebio much-needed clarity during a pivotal moment. Jalina Wayser’s Petra injects much-needed comedic levity, particularly when we meet her in the bustling city of Santurce. Her exuberance and sharp comedic timing make her scenes unforgettable, particularly when she’s hyping up Flora to accept the advances of Eusebio, who she describes as “good old-fashioned Puerto Rican manhood.” Later, as Monica in Act II, Wayser reveals a grounded, empathetic side, making for an all-around impactful performance from start to finish.
Floyd Walston’s set design, brought to life with the skillful collaboration of Ruth Sager (Master Carpenter), Benton Guy and Dan Jankauskas (Builders), and Jo-Ann Johnson and Elizabeth Komins (Scenic Artists), vividly captures Rivera’s contrasting worlds. Act I’s Miraflores bursts with vibrant plant life and flowers tended by Doña Milla, while a center rotating platform effortlessly transitions to Santurce’s bustling city energy, highlighted by a beautifully painted mural alongside the city’s grocery store. Act II takes us to Flora and Eusebio’s Alabama home, subdued and distinctly Americanized, with slight nods to Miraflores in its modest potted plants and a geometric painting of a singular calla lily, hung slightly askew (a small detail which felt purposeful). Props by Aliyah Batot shine with thoughtful and cultural detail orientation — special touches that caught my eye were the veladoras on the credenza, the soft-serve ice cream cones in Santurce, bottles of Eusebio’s many medications and medical necessities, and Flora’s humble, worn red shoebox of photos she kept under her cot.
Marcus Dominguez’s sound design cradles the production in the sweeping, sentimental strains of traditional boleros, a musical cornerstone of the culture's romance. These melodies underscore the play’s emotional arc, while subtle environmental sounds, like chirping morning birds and the evening buzzing of cicadas, create an immersive atmosphere and let us know exactly where we are. Personal favorite was the nostalgic, tinny audio of the Mets game coming from the sub-par speakers of Flora and Eusebio’s implied 1990’s television. Daniel Del Busto’s lighting design is effective in its storytelling: warm tones enveloping Puerto Rico’s lushness and Act II’s cooler hues feeling industrial, appropriately sterile, and somehow, distinctly American. Natalie Payán’s costume design masterfully captures the essence of each era, grounding the characters in 1950s Puerto Rico with flowy, softer garments — donning Miraflores in earthy tones and florals, energizing Santurce with vibrant solids. The passage of time to 1992 seemed to be represented by sleek, angular silhouettes and muted colors.
Congratulations to the seamless coordination of Stage Manager Hope Smalley, the guiding efforts of Producers Aliyah Batot and George Mulford, and the dedicated support of Production Assistant Autumn Scouten.
In a delightful and thematically on-brand twist, Set Designer Floyd Walston addressed the audience after the bows, introducing himself as Director Natalie Payán's partner in life and love. Just as the audience watched Eusebio ask Flora for her hand in marriage, we witnessed Floyd get down on one knee for Natalie — marking a new beginning for them both. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house (and if you’ve read my last review, you already know I was an entire puddle). All of our best wishes to you both, Natalie and Floyd!
You’re in for a bold, evocative, and memorable evening — Boleros of the Disenchanted runs through January 25th at the Players Club of Swarthmore. Get your tickets here: https://ci.green.prod.ovationtix.com/117/production/1199410
