Oedipus in the barrio

This review by longtime Charlotte arts critic Lawrence Toppman was published by The Charlotte Ledger on May 11, 2026. You can find out more about The Charlotte Ledger’s commitment to smart local news and information and sign up for our newsletter for free here. Ledger subscribers can add the Toppman on the Arts newsletter on their “My Account” page.

by Lawrence Toppman

The question of whether fate or free will determines our futures has been around for three millennia, and I can think of no group in modern America likelier to ask it than prisoners. Did I end up in jail because I grew up in poverty, missing one parent or both, and observed that the steadiest and most lucrative jobs belonged to criminals? Or would I be here no matter how hard I tried to change my path?

Luis Alfaro brings that question up to date in “Oedipus El Rey,” now getting its local premiere at Three Bone Theatre. While the playwright sticks to the Sophoclean model that inspired him in the first place, his setting in his native Los Angeles has tremendous power. When he thinks the main question won’t hold an audience for one 90-minute act and embroiders it with sidelights of his own invention, that power wanes somewhat.

“Rey,” which Alfaro wrote in 2010, concludes what Three Bone considers the first mounting of the three-play cycle of adaptations of Greek tragedies. It began here with “Mojada: A Medea in Los Angeles” (written in 2015) and continued with “Electricidad” (written in 2003). Each has followed the same pattern, though the seams between what works and what doesn’t become more apparent in “Oedipus,” the most familiar of the stories.

The title character (Kelvin Jones-Fernandez) comes out of prison thinking wise, sightless old con Tiresias (Luis Medina) is his father. Tiresias knows better: He rescued the boy when gang leader Laius (Christian Serna), hearing a prophecy that his son would grow up to kill him, told Tiresius to gut the infant’s body and hang it in a tree for coyotes to pull down and eat.

Two decades later, Oedipus does indeed beat Laius to death in self-defense in a road rage incident. He goes to the barrio, replaces cocky, clueless Creon (Eduardo Sanchez) as new leader of the gang, and enters into a mutual seduction with Laius’ widow, Jocasta (Stacy Fernandez). Neither Alfaro nor director Rod Oden shies away from graphic violence and frank eroticism, depicted effectively under red lights or darkness and/or in stylized movements.

So far, so faithful to the intent of the source: Oedipus insists he can write his own life story for good or ill, and he delivers some of both. Then Alfaro takes a bizarre turn.

Oedipus first insists there is no God — no Greek would have done so — and no force in the universe has authority over him. Then he insists he is not just Oedipus el Rey but Oedipus el Dío, bringing in an unwelcome tone of Frankenstein challenging divine authority. “I am your God!” he thunders, demanding that neighborhood leaders pray to him. In the end, he deals mayhem like a mad deity hurling lightning bolts all around, taking us far from the original concept.

I like Oden’s staging in the round on a minimalist set at the tiny Arts Factory, where a chorus of cholos circles the principals as menacingly as grinning wolves. I wasn’t impressed by his conviction that volume equals intensity: By the end, I was hoping for at least one quiet self-realization of horror, rather than explosion after vocal explosion.

Kelvin Jones-Fernandez combines charisma, menace and egotism in equal measures, an approach that makes Oedipus likable, volatile and unsettling. Stacy Fernandez, who’s rather young for Jocasta and doesn’t age at all in the 20 years between her onstage appearances, has inner strength, humor and resilience.

Medina gives the blind seer dignity and a sense of tragedy, when he realizes his attempt to avert a bloody fate has failed; that’s a different take on the original, but a touching one. The other characters remain two-dimensional, as in Sophocles’ version, which doesn’t hurt “Rey” much.

Perhaps the place where Alfaro diverges farthest from Sophocles is in his conclusion. The old Greek believed order must prevail in society, however much grief gets spread around; the gods are cruel and capricious but never totally destructive. Alfaro leaves us with a bleaker vision founded on utter chaos. Perhaps, considering the original question both men ask, that’s how the answer has changed over 2,500 years.

Lawrence Toppman covered the arts for 40 years at The Charlotte Observer before retiring in 2020. Now, he’s back in the critic’s chair for the Charlotte Ledger — look for his reviews several times each month in the Charlotte Ledger.