Last Chance To See Why ‘Romance of Magno Rubio’ Is Rewarding

By Julie Stern

NEW HAVEN — This weekend represents your last chance to get over to Long Wharf’s Stage Two to catch the second entry in the smaller stage’s three-part sequence of “New American Voices,” Lonnie Carter’s The Romance of Magno Rubio. Based on a short story by the Filipino writer-activist Carlos Bulosan, Magno Rubio is a mixture of folktale, music, dance and martial arts set in a California bunkhouse during the Great Depression.

Mr Bulosan, who came to America as an illiterate teenager, taught himself to read in the public library and worked his way through university in the fields and canneries of the Pacific coast states. His experiences in the migrant labor camps gave him material for short stories that would eventually be published in The New Yorker and other prestige magazines, introducing readers to the plight of the Filipinos in the same way John Steinbeck put a human face on the dispossessed refugees from the Oklahoma dust bowl.

While the West Coast farmers were desperate for cheap labor to do the hard work of harvesting the crops, the racism that prevailed in America at the time led to “miscegenation” laws which made it illegal for the brown-skinned Filipinos to marry or have relationships with white women.

Since the farmers did not want to have to provide for families and children of their workers, jobs and “accommodations” (in the form of ramshackle bunkhouses) were offered only to men. Thus the Filipino men (as with the Chinese coolies who came to America in the 19th Century to build the railroads and stayed on as cooks and laundry operators) endured not only poverty and bigotry, but emotional loneliness as well.

“Magno Rubio” is a nickname which means “great rube” or bumpkin. Mr Bulosan’s work is the story of a tiny Filipino peasant (he is only 4’6”) who falls in love with Clarabelle, a six-foot woman from Arkansas, whose name he got through a magazine ad.

Illiterate himself, Magno Rubio pays another man to write his letters, and read Clarabelle’s replies. Although his bunkmates tease him about this, Magno is resolute in his faith that Clarabelle is a good woman, and he spends all his money on presents for her – shoes, a watch, a diamond engagement ring, and finally bus fare to get her to California.

The improbability of this is apparent to everyone except Magno, whose life is suffused with meaning because of his beautiful dream. As in Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, his innocent, happy faith becomes a temporary source of fraternity and sustenance for the others in his work crew.

The story is narrated by Bulosan’s alter ego, Nick, a college student who acts as the crew’s bookkeeper and reads poetry in his spare time. Playwright Carter has written it largely in verse, mixing together the cadences of rap, Shakespearian pentameter, and Tagalog (the native Philippine language) chants, along with haunting folk music sung and played on guitars and beaten with rhythm sticks. These are also used in dances signifying the backbreaking labor in which they spend their days.

The Long Wharf Stage II production is held together by the remarkable performance of Jojo Gonzalez in the title role. His range of facial expression, his fluidity of movement, and his wistful idealism captures the audience’s heart.

Director Loy Arcenas’ set design captures the feeling of the shabby bunkhouse, using wire chairs to serve as seats, beds, and on occasion, surrogate dancing partners.

The whole thing is short, powerful and affecting, and definitely not the ordinary theatrical experience. It’s easy to see why this won as many prizes as it did since its premiere three years ago: it is arty in a good way, and worth going to New Haven to see.

(Performances continue only to April 3; remaining shows are Friday through Sunday evenings and Saturday and Sunday afternoons.

Call 203-787-4282 for ticket prices and reservations.)