Playwright: Kristoffer Diaz At: American Theater Company, 1909 W. Byron. Phone: 773-409-4125; $35-$50. Runs through: May 16
Kristoffer Diaz's characters talk the way J.D. Salinger's kids would have, if those iconic prep-school rebels had been boricuas from the melting pot of New York's Lower East Side in 2001words spilling forth in staccato gushes, stumbling over one another, doubling back to retrieve some forgotten detail so necessary to articulating the incomprehensibly complex questions swirling around their brains in a hyperspeed cyclone of gestalt. The blessing of rap music and slam poetry was the discipline it imposed on the cosmological labyrinth roamed by adolescents since the beginning of time.
The establishment of the title was once a bodega owned by Elizabeth Arroyo, now deceased. Her son Alejando has converted it to a barperdĂ"neme, loungethe operation of which fosters his craving for stability, even as his sister Amalia defiantly tags police station walls in the name of urban guerrilla art. Cupid sneers at orderliness, however, and soon their world is turned topsy-turvy by the introduction of a humorously-named officer and a shy university erudita bearing a possible clue to a hitherto unsuspectedbut culturally significantside to the late Señora Arroyo.
But don't be fooled by the streetsmart idiom spoken by the duo of DJs who serve as our omniscient narrators ( "Hey! We're the chorus!" they inform us, "We're in a different theatrical reality!" ) . Diaz was in his mid-20s when he wrote this thinking dude's romantic comedy ( seven years before The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity became a Pulitzer contender ) , and still sufficiently imbued with youthful braggadocio to flaunt his educationdid I mention the hit-and-run reference to Martin Luther's ninety-five theses?while never stooping to sophomoric self-indulgence.
In support of the audience "conversation" that Diaz claims as his goal, the production's presentation employs a number of fourth wall-breaking conventionsmostly perpetrated by our prankish guides ( who, at one point, "re-wind" the action to add a commentary track ) , played by charming hip-hoppers Jackson Doran and Gregory "GQ" Qaiyum. And if the question of whether the Arroyo sibs are truly the descendants of prototypal female hip-hop DJ Reina Rey ( literally, "Queen King" ) remains unresolved or the issues of filial and tribal identity fuzzy, the exuberant energy and optimism generated by American Theatre Company director Jaime Castañeda's ensemble ( props to graffiti artist Rahmaan "Statik" Barnes and music designer Tawny Newsome ) nevertheless delivers a 90-minute South-of-Houston-Street tour both smart and mellow.