Invasive Species is a testimonial play, a mode of documentary theatre wherein the performers share stories of their lives with the audience members, who accept a pact of truth: we believe the body on stage is telling us what actually happened outside of the theatre. They can be lying to us (artists like Marina Otero and Sergio Blanco have mastered the art of bullshitting the audience with their consent and enthusiasm), but during the time we are breathing the same air, we´ll suspend our disbelief and fully trust the confessions of the performer. And so Maia begins by taking us to a movie theatre in her native Buenos Aires, Argentina. She watches The Amazing Spider-Man, fascinated at the colors and joy and bloom that the United States promises. She decides to go through the screen to see this land for herself. This resonates with me: I remember being a kid in the nineties, when my dad brought us chocolates from California. Snickers, M&M’s, and Three Musketeers tasted as if they came from a faraway heaven. It is funny, today I can´t eat any of them. But if you bring me a Turrón de Doña Pepa from Perú, I´ll be your best friend.
On stage, Maia moves to the States to study acting in grad school. Her work doesn´t allow her to pay her bills in Argentina, a country still in economic distress, and, well, her parents are a bit too dramatic for their own sake (both brilliantly played by Sam Gonzalez). We grew up in countries in the verge of falling apart, so shows like Full House or The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air promised that some peace could be found in the United States (I´d say Jac Schaeffer´s WandaVision explores this brilliantly). Once in the States, however, Maia finds she can´t fit in in the new country. The Americans of the North dissect her presence, turning her body into something familiar: she is told that she looks the parts she wants to play, but she doesn´t sound as she should. Her dates try to find in her a victim of the narcos, someone who escaped a land of magical realism and spicy tango. Then, shortly before graduation, she is locked in the youth ward of a psychiatric hospital, a story that is juxtaposed onstage with her auditions to play Evita Perón directed by an Englishman (Julian Sanchez) who doesn´t seem to know shit about Latin America.
Can the migrant integrate into the host society?
Performing as Evita becomes a wild irony. Her story is well known: Eva Duarte was born in rural Argentina, moved to Buenos Aires to be an actress, and along the way she met Juan Domingo Perón and became his wife before he became president. As first lady of the nation, she enjoyed wild popularity until cancer took her life when she was thirty-three years old. Evita became a tragic figure, inspiring all kinds of narratives and iconographies (my favorites are Eva Perón by Copi; Santa Evita by Tomás Eloy Martínez, recently adapted by Star and available on Hulu; and I find Solanas and Getino’s La Hora de los Hornos fascinating, even if I disagree with them so much). Thinking about Evita, you may be envisioning Madonna in the balcony of the Casa Rosada singing “Don´t Cry For Me Argentina.” The musical presents her as a cold-blooded social climber who wanted fame and revenge from the wealthy while a whole nation idolizes her and celebrate her as a saint. The musical dares to equate Perón with Benito Mussolini and Francisco Franco, ignoring the numerous differences (and the colonial past) between Argentina, Italy, and Spain. This portrays lower-class Argentinians as ignorant, easy to manipulate and deceive. As a South American spectator, I can´t shake the feeling that a group of artists from the Global North are trying to explain our region to us from far away. Maia portrays Evita Perón on stage, but the director is not happy. She doesn´t sound “authentic.” Her voice and presence are not Latinx enough. It doesn´t matter that she is authentically Argentinian, born in Buenos Aires. She is not fulfilling the expectations placed on her body.
She doesn´t look “sane” enough to leave the psychiatric hospital or Argentinian enough to play Evita. The situation is absurd: how does a “sane” person looks? What does an Argentinian look like? What happens when a non-Argentinian accuses an actual Argentinian of not looking “authentic” enough? Maia resists the authority of the warden (Raffaella Donatich) and tries to establish communication with her. But since she has been categorized as “crazy,” the power imbalance between them allows the warden to turn anything Maia says into a meaningless claim. The immigrant body is not saying or doing what is expected from her, so her voice is drowned. Her English is extremely clear, but she can´t be understood, creating a very specific form of loneliness. Can these circumstances change? Can the migrant integrate into the host society?
Invasive Species is a play about identity and how one constructs a sense of self as a migrant. But it is also about power, about who has the ability to shape who we are and where we can be.
Her only friend and guide in this world is Akila (Alexandra Maurice), a teenager from the psychiatric hospital. In a very tender and moving sequence, they discuss suicide and friendship. It is surprisingly funny in the most endearing way. Maia shares her frustrations, and Akila ridicules her: just do what is expected from you. She is an actress; it should be easy. Smile to the warden. Tell her how good she feels and how much the meds are healing her. Give the director the accent he wants. Be the Argentine they want to see, a body that suffers, who left a doomed place for a better life. Be humble; tell them what they want to hear. This solution feels, at the same time, obvious, funny, and tragic.
Invasive Species is a play about identity and how one constructs a sense of self as a migrant. But it is also about power, about who has the ability to shape who we are and where we can be. Maia seeks a place in a new land, but she is either trapped in a hospital or pushed out of the industry. This operation makes this also a play about space, questioning who can be where, in which capacity, and occupying which positions. Spaces are constantly segmented, pushing and inviting bodies in and out of them. Race and ethnicity give and take “permission” to occupy places and play roles. For foreigners in the United States, just crossing the border and being present in this land is a negotiation. We apply for visas and authorizations while laws carefully establish what we can do. In Invasive Species, Maia´s body is literally locked in the hospital; her movements and behavior are policed and monitored. A real event becomes a metaphor for a body unable to find protection or community. She calls her parents, but they don´t understand. They are in another realm, a different logic, and they shame her for spending too much money. Where is the protection for the migrant body? What are her rights? To enter a space of “freedom,” she must perform. Pretend. Embrace the fact that to be part of that freedom she must give folx in power what they demand.
