Theater review: Young love stings in Marin Theatre Company’s ‘Bees’
There’s no such thing as happily ever after. It’s a beautiful thing to find someone who you just know is “the one” for you, but sooner or later the road is going to get rocky, and the true test of a couple is how they navigate the bumps along the way.
“Bees & Honey,” the new play by Guadalís Del Carmen at Marin Theatre Company, serves as a succinct illustration of how one couple deals with the tensions and other pitfalls that arise in their marriage.
MTC’s West Coast premiere is the second production of “Bees,” following its premiere off-Broadway last summer.
The two-performer play follows Johaira and Manuel, two young Dominicans from very different backgrounds in New York City, at a major turning point in their lives. Johaira is prosecuting a sexual assault case that represents a big step forward in her legal career, and Manuel is on the verge of expanding his mechanic shop into new locations.
In a lengthy direct-address section at the beginning, each tells us (or tells someone anyway) about when they first met, though only after they both rhapsodize about what Dominican bachata music means to them.
These overlapping monologues go on long enough that you might start to wonder whether that will be the format of the whole play. But once they get to their actual meeting, they slip into dialogue for most of the rest of the show’s 90 minutes without intermission.
We don’t follow them through dating and all that but catch up with them what seems to be a few years later, comfortably settled into their marriage but still very playful and frisky with each other.
Katherine George’s Johaira exudes confidence and professional poise, even if we only see her in her home life. She’s charmed by Manuel’s loving attentiveness and also quick to call him out if he says something problematic.
As Manuel, Jorge Lendeborg Jr. is full of charisma and knows it. He dotes on Johaira and is trying hard to educate himself out of ingrained sexist attitudes, reading feminist texts that Johaira gave him, but things still slip out a lot, especially when he’s talking on a headset gaming with his friends.
There’s a class divide between the two that comes out clearly in Alice Ruiz’s costumes. Johaira’s always sharply attired in stylish, colorful dresses while Manuel is always ultra-casual in sleeveless undershirts. Carlos Aceves’ set of a large, uncluttered living room with elegantly spare décor looks catered to Johaira’s tastes, only the sofa where Manuel relaxes looking rumpled.
Their socioeconomic backgrounds isn’t something that comes up overtly, mostly through their opinions of each other’s friends.
There’s a sense that for the most part what Johaira says goes. Manuel gets frustrated with this dynamic sometimes but is usually quick to back down to avoid an argument and not play into gender stereotypes. That tension about saying the wrong thing only increases as the sexual assault case that Johaira is working on weighs more and more heavily on her mind.
One thing about a two-person play is that you know the person who’s about to come over is never going to show up onstage, even if within the story others might have come and gone and we just missed them. It’s always just the two of them, and that contributes to a claustrophobic sense of isolation.
When they’re having troubles, maybe they need to talk to someone. Maybe they need to get out of the house more. And maybe they do those things while we’re not watching, but the general sense is that all they have to lean on is each other. So, what do they do when that’s not enough?
Some of the shifts in their relationship are fairly abrupt in Del Carmen’s script — when things turn, they turn quickly — and the direct-address sections are more awkward than illuminating. But one thing that shines brightly in director Karina Gutiérrez’s brisk staging is the easy rapport of the couple.
There’s a palpable sense of connection, love and attraction between the two from the start that makes it easy to get invested in their relationship. It also makes it easy to take umbrage when one or the other is being unfair.
It’s a frustrating play in some ways, with a few unsatisfyingly fleshed-out transitions in the characters’ lives. But in a sense, the frustration is a testament that the play is working. If it’s sometimes agitating, it’s precisely because we care.
Sam Hurwitt is a Bay Area arts journalist and playwright.
If you go
What: “Bees & Honey”
Where: Marin Theatre Company, 397 Miller Ave., Mill Valley
When: Through March 10; 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays through Saturdays; 2 p.m. weekends
Admission: $25 to $72
Information: 415-388-5208; marintheatre.org
Rating (out of five stars): ★★★