It’s unlikely that white, English-speaking audience
members will catch all of the references in the Miracle Theatre’s
production of Luis Valdez’s provocatively dense The Shrunken Head of
Pancho Villa
, but that’s no reason not to try. Within one family of
first- and second-generation Mexican Americans, a heady range of
experience is condensedโ€”a timeline of assimilation and
resistance, poverty and ambition.

A father drinks from his flask, and tells war stories of his years
in Pancho Villa’s revolutionary gang; a son returns home from the war
speaking unaccented English, newly in thrall to the promises of the
American dream; a sister yearns for a life of her own. And all the
while, the titular head, played with glee by Vicente
Guzmรกn-Orozco, perches on a tableโ€”groaning, gnashing his
teeth, belting “La Cucaracha”; a mustachioed, tortilla-eating Mexican
stereotype who can be tucked out of sight but refuses to disappear
completely. It’s a soap opera; it’s a farce; it’s a madcap, high-stakes
puzzle whose pieces describe the concerns of the Chicano movement of
the 1960s.

When the thuggish Mingo (Danny Moreno) returns triumphantly from the
service, he’s determined to elevate his family from their squalid
barrio existence by relying on the honest American virtues of hard work
and tax fraud. He hires friends of his brother Joaquin (Albert Alcazar)
to work in the fields and then cheats them out of their wages; he buys
a fancy new sports car and takes pains to eliminate all traces of his
Mexican roots. Basically, he’s kind of a jerk. Unfortunately, Moreno
never forgets he’s acting, and neither does the audienceโ€”he is
the weak spot in an otherwise fine ensemble. Far better are the
supporting charactersโ€”Erubiel Valladares Carranza is particularly
understated and natural, while Gary Corbin’s cameo as a police officer
makes the humor in this 45-year-old play seem fresh.

Chicano identity, whitewashing, machismo, and the dream of a
revolutionary futureโ€”this is a script of ideas and ideals, firmly
located in the complicated give-and-take of the everyday, and the
Miracle’s fine production is lively and accessible.

Alison Hallett served nobly as the Mercury's arts editor from 2008-2014. Her proud legacy lives on.