Guac, Woolly Mammoth Theatre, Washington, DC

 

Manuel Oliver in Guac. When introducing his family, wife Patricia is first. Photo courtesy of Public Theatre NYC. (Note: The t-shirt worn on opening night had a different slogan, as described below.)

I wish there was no reason for me to know these places: Columbine. Sandy Hook. Uvalde. Parkland. And too many more.

But I do know those places – and others like them. Every month, it seems, there is another to add to the list. This month, it’s Antioch High School in Nashville. Another school shooting.

Each one, a call to action. And in each case, some people claim that it’s inappropriate to politicize what happened. But we know, deep down, that things don’t have to be this way. It’s an American phenomenon, where politicians are under the thumb of the National Rifle Association and the gun lobby. As a result, the concerns over the ability to own automatic weapons overrides concerns about any children who are denied life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness because of gun violence. The same problem does not exist in other countries.

At one point in Guac, the current offering at Woolly Mammoth Theatre, the statement is made that students in American classrooms have to learn math, English, history, and what to do in active shooter drills. I may have that in the wrong order: if students from kindergarten on don’t master those shooter drills, they may not need to learn anything else.

I used the term “offering” to describe this because I am at a loss for words to pin it down: it is much more than just a play. It is an event, a call to action, an actively-made artistic expression, the vivid examination of one man’s experience losing his son to such an event on Valentine’s Day in 2018. It reminds us that, after the headlines have faded way, the survivors of those innocent victims never “get over” their grief. Each survivor of each victim has his or her own way of carrying on, of coping.

Guac as a title has nothing to do with avocados. Manuel and Patricia Oliver, immigrants from Venezuela (and now American citizens), named their son Joaquin. Some of Joaquin’s Anglo friends couldn’t get the pronunciation quite right, so he became “Guac” – pronounced with a silent “g” sound that almost becomes an “h,” followed by “wok,” as in something used in Asian cooking.

Manuel Oliver introducing his son, Joaquin (Guac) in Guac. Photo courtesy of Public Theatre NYC.

Manuel and Patricia came to the United States, like millions of others, in search of a better life for their children. Where better to land than a place called “Parkland”? Identifying himself as Latino, Manuel reminds us that not all Latinos are Mexicans, with each country having its own culture. A restaurateur in Venezuela, he had to start over in the U.S., working his way up through the restaurant business, eventually becoming successful in art and advertising. On a stage adorned only with a large, easel-like board covered with brown paper and oversized letters forming the word GUAC, Manuel brings a milk-crate-sized container with various paints and brushes onto the stage. We meet the family (wife/mother, daughter, family dog, and then son) through blown-up images that are revealed as Manuel peels away layers on the board.  Wearing a black t-shirt reading “We are the ones we’ve been waiting for,” shredded jeans, and pink sneakers that belonged to his son, Manuel tells us everything that we need to know about the Olivers. He especially conveys their dedication to “familia,” one of the major priorities (if not the primary one) in Latino culture. Joaquin and his father were especially close. Manuel describes Joaquin as not just his son, but also his best friend. Manuel tells us that Joaquin was athletic and smart, a gifted writer, and already an activist against gun violence as evidenced by several tweets he sent in the months before he was killed.

February 14 is Valentine’s Day, of course. Joaquin wanted to take flowers to his girlfriend. As he dropped his son off at school, the last thing Manuel said was for him to call later with the details about giving her the flowers. Those flowers were never given and that call never came.

Manuel says at one point that being Joaquin’s father was what he did best – so it is what he continues to do. He and Patricia have taken their crusade to numerous places in and outside the U.S., including a White House meeting with then-President Biden. They created a non-profit called “Change the Ref,” to contribute to the fight against what they call “America’s gun violence epidemic.” The organization’s title refers to a remark made in a basketball game to his dad (and basketball coach) when Joaquin was called out by a referee whose decision he thought unfair. Joaquin told his father, after he, too, had been thrown out of the same game, that what was needed was a change in referee – something Americans should do, as well. 

Manuel Oliver and the image of his son created during the opening night performance of Guac. Photo by the author. Note: Oliver encouraged photography during the performance.

Each theatre patron was given a program that, when unfolded, became a 17” x 22” sign, with various anti-gun violence slogans on each one. Toward the end of the event, everyone held up their signs. With everyone’s signs aloft, we were ready for a protest.

Manuel Oliver is not a real actor, but he is telling his own story. He has a powerful, magnetic stage presence that commands attention and respect. Co-written by James Clements, Guac is directed by Michael Cotey. One would expect that all three contributed to the shaping of the “performance.” Lighting and sound design are by Justine Burke and Grover Hollway, respectively. Guac is presented in association with the Public Theatre.

                                    

My program unfolded, ready for a protest. Photo by the author.

Guac is the first production in Woolly Mammoth’s remarkable 45^th year of “creating badass theatre,” as it is described in the program. This event is an excellent representation of that “badass” theatre, perfect for this moment and this place. Guac continues until February 16, two days after the seventh anniversary of the event in Parkland.