Review: Co-stars enliven Teatro Aurora’s Spanish-language comedy

Through Oct. 18. 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays; 2:30 p.m. Sundays. $20-$30. Aurora Theatre, 128 E. Pike St., Lawrenceville. 678-226-6222, www.auroratheatre.com.

Bottom line: Non-Spanish speakers may miss out on some of the fun.

The play is a fast-paced comedy fueled by a lot of rapid-fire banter between three highly energized women. To say that something gets lost in translation has less to do with the content of the English supertitles that appear on a monitor above the set, transcribing their dialogue for non-Spanish-speaking members of the audience.

Rather, it has more to do with the fact that, while we’re frantically trying to follow and keep up with everything they’re talking about, we can’t help but miss out on some of the physical interaction between them. It’s next to impossible for us to simultaneously read what they’re saying and watch what they’re doing (at least on my part, often having to look away from the stage altogether to jot down notes on top of that).

All the same, you've got to applaud Aurora artistic director Anthony Rodriguez for carving out such a worthy niche for the company. And it's undeniably encouraging — if not also a bit sad — to realize there's a whole talent pool that's basically untapped in terms of finding work on Atlanta's mainstream theater scene.

Vibrantly directed by the Chicago- and Los Angeles-based Abigail Vega, Ott’s clever play proves to be a resounding showcase for a trio of dynamic actresses in the title roles: Irma Cristancho as Meche, the evangelist; Ilia DeJesus as Beatriz, the divorcee; and Michelle Rivera as Gloria, the vegetarian. Despite their varying degrees of previous experience, there’s a sensation about their performances that’s akin to discovering three brand-new stars.

The setting is New York City, presumably circa the mid-1980s (with the Mickey Rourke-Kim Basinger movie “9 1/2 Weeks” referenced several times). A number of revolving panels at the back of Ryan Bradburn’s set help establish the different scenes, which alternately unfold in a subway station, a movie theater and Central Park.

The sexy and self-absorbed Gloria has lost count of the many falling-outs with her married boyfriend, and she’s no more able to even keep track of Beatriz’s name, when she chances to meet her in the subway. Beatriz is an incurable romantic struggling with low self-esteem, but gradually these opposites attract to create an unlikely rapport, along with Gloria’s friend Meche, a hyper-religious movie usher.

The script is periodically prone to hysterical slapstick (e.g., a protracted scene in which Meche performs an exorcism of sorts). But Vega’s enterprising cast does a remarkable job of digging deeper to uncover some of the common bonds that unite the women, each of whom has her own reasons for feeling lonely and unfulfilled — and for finally deciding to do something about it.

Not surprisingly, perhaps, certain aspects of the human condition are universal, in any language.