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Laughs in Spanish promises just that. It’s filled with energy, secrets and an awkward love story. You’ll gasp between the laughs and won’t want to look away, except for maybe the romance scenes. Immediately, Laughs in Spanish takes the audience to a vibrant day in Miami. It centers around a gallery owner, Mariana, who has to figure out how to fix things a day before her art show. The play does a good job showing what Miami is like with the cool sounds and visuals, making the play overall entertaining to watch but the romance in the story feels a bit awkward and out of place. The day before Mariana's art show, her paintings disappear while her mom Estella, a movie star, appears and tries to help out. But things only get more complicated and involve themes of family and relationships. Estella's assistant Jenny, who is also Mariana’s love interest, is introduced as well. Her intern Carolina, who is also an artist, uses her art to save the show while Carolina's boyfriend Juan, the cop, tries to figure out who stole the paintings. 

One way the play was successful was being entertaining, keeping the audience engaged. Right from the beginning, it grabbed the attention of the audience with the powerful acting in Mariana’s reaction to her paintings being stolen. It was packed with yelling and panic, making the audience invested in the problem. The plot had surprising twists like when there was a scene where Carolina and Juan both made an unexpected confession and got the audience eager to see what will happen next. There were also random moments of dancing that were fun to watch and got the audience reacting. However, some people might’ve thought that there was a little too much going on, with all the different things happening and it may have been confusing or boring for them. Or that even though there were surprises, some may have been able to predict some of the things that happened because similar things have happened in other stories or movies. For example, it wasn’t shocking how Mariana and Estella's relationship got fixed or the identity of the thief. But even with these potential counter arguments, the strong acting and high energy throughout the play still made it fun to watch. 

Laughs in Spanish was a play performed at Seattle Rep, written by Alexis Scheer. It's set in Miami, Florida, during the holiday season. The play is funny, entertaining, and keeps the viewer wanting more. It's a good play that I would ultimately recommend, even with there being some critiques I would make, such as the set. There are a lot of strong suits, though, like how it was a very light-hearted play even through the deeper topics they talk about and the characters' outfits. The play follows Mariana, an art gallery director, in the Miami area along with her assistant Carolina. The night before an art exhibition was supposed to happen, all the paintings were stolen. Juan, who happens to be Carolina's boyfriend, ends up being the cop on the scene after Mariana calls the police. Shortly after Mariana's mom, Estella, and her assistant, Jenny, show up.

I really enjoyed how the play touches on some deeper topics while still maintaining a more lighthearted demeanor. It touches on insecurity, identity, and feeling unready. Mari really struggles with comparing herself to her mom because her mom was a huge movie star, being immensely popular and not wanting to be like her. Mari won best in show for a painting she made. To celebrate, she went to a bar. She left momentarily to get money out of the ATM. When she came back, all the attention was on her mom. Before Mari told Estella about what actually happened though Estella was making jokes about what could have happened, she said, “I swear to god if he put a finger on you I will hunt him down and cut his dick off” which ultimately led to it feeling like a calmer conversation than if there weren't any jokes. Caro also expresses how unready she felt when she told Juan she was pregnant, she did not know if she wanted to bring a child into the world. Although throughout her talking to Juan, she was making jokes which helped it from being a hard, almost rigid conversation. Instead, it was easy and felt more free flowing. While they were talking, Caro said, “I hope it-THEY-I hope they feel empowered to be whatever gender or non-gender they feel.” It was said in a very non-serious tone, and it helped maintain the light-hearted feeling they were going for instead of an abrupt sad scene.

Have you ever stolen a famous painter’s artwork to help your pregnant girlfriend’s dreams come true? Juan the police officer did, in the wild and articulate play Laughs in Spanish, written by Alexis Scheer. This chaotic, emotional, and hilarious story is centered around Mariana, a post-college Latina woman who runs an art gallery in Miami. Just before the biggest art show of her career, her artist's paintings are mysteriously stolen. To make things even more stressful, her famous actress mother shows up unexpectedly, stirring things up even more. What follows is a fast-paced mess of events involving pregnancy, stolen art, court orders, love, and lots of hilarious and heartfelt moments. Laughs in Spanish is a unique and powerful representation of Latinx and queer identities, filled with real life struggles and very funny moments.

One of the things I appreciated most about this play was how it showcased the ups and downs of queer and Latina life without ever feeling preachy or too serious. The characters felt authentic, their chemistry was strong, and their personalities were very extravagant  in a good way. Even though the play had a lot going on, it was clear that the writer, Alexis Scheer, put a lot of care into making every character feel like they belonged and had a purpose, even if some of the plot lines felt a bit overwhelming (which I’ll talk more about later).

From the moment the lights go up, you’re exposed to the stage full of Miami energy, pulling you into a fast-paced and heartwarming narrative that balances humor and cultural depth. The play quickly evolved into a relatable exploration of identity, family, and culture. Laughs in Spanish proves to be a celebration of what it means to live, laugh, and love in two languages.

Laughs in Spanish, written by Alexis Scheer, is a fast-paced play set in Miami. The play follows Mariana’s immersive world as a gallery owner who has to handle valuable paintings disappearing right before a major art show. The plot is based on Mari as she scrambles to recover from a disaster that could ruin her career. She’s joined by her assistant, Caro, a struggling artist, and a bumbling cop, Juan, who is dating Caro. Things get even more dramatic as her plan to fix everything gets interrupted by her mother, Estella, and her assistant, Jenny. The characters are bold and complex, the different dynamics bring humorous and emotional depth to the play. As characters interact, secrets are revealed, tension rises, and we are taken through a hilarious journey in the life of a Latina family. Immediately captivated by a chaotically heartwarming and relatable plot, Laughs in Spanish is a culturally rich play that is full of humor. 

Have you ever gone to the theater expecting one of those remake comedy shows only to leave completely changed in opinion, by that I meant utterly transformed, by a performance that makes you both laugh and pause? Laughs in Spanish at Seattle Rep demonstrates this transformation with a precise blend of wardrobe choices, props, and, most notably, the actors’ commanding presence. The journey unfolds in phases, from moments that leave you speechless, to intimate, raw exchanges, and finally, a display of compassionate, captivating artistry.

This production wastes no time in disorienting its audience in the best possible way. Early in the show, as the stage bursts with bold, saturated colors and rapid-fire dialogue illustrating Miami’s vibrant art scene kinda vibe, the sudden color changes come to a stop. During Mari’s (Beth Pollack) meticulously planned gallery opening, displays of artworks mysteriously vanish. Rather than spiraling into immediate panic, the stage sinks into a hushed quiet as the lighting softens to a warm, almost hypnotic glow. In that hushed intensity, Mari, typically the embodiment of control, stands alone in the center of the gallery. The backdrop of swirling abstract art in hues of blue and orange evoked a delicate boundary between order and chaos, making every detail even more striking. 

What happens when an art gallery becomes ground zero for unexpected chaos? Laughs in Spanish takes its audience on a journey full of fast-paced dialogue combined with unforeseen scenes. The stage performance alternates between powerful dramatic moments and comedic scenes, which drew me in because of its energetic energy throughout the play. I attended the Seattle Rep Theater production of Laughs in Spanish last week. The story follows Mari, a director of an art gallery in Miami when her major art exhibition collapses due to both stolen paintings and family conflicts. The play by Alexis Scheer takes place in Miami while combining comedic elements with deep themes about cultural identity and ambition. Through laughter and disorder, the play investigates how people manage their life ambitions against their family obligations. 

The play begins during the setup for a high-profile Miami art event. Mariana, a gallery director who wants to succeed, is about to lose her job. She finds out that some expensive paintings have been stolen. It’s a serious problem that gets worse when her intern Carolina, Miami cop Juan, and her mother Estella get involved, each making the situation more complicated. But beneath the humor and chaos, Laughs in Spanish is a story about self-worth, identity, and the ways we fight to be seen in the spaces we occupy.

The rich Goldbergs are coming over at 6 PM, and Mari needs to appeal to them to stay successful. Laughs in Spanish takes place in an art gallery, where Mari, the owner, has to juggle executing a party while all the paintings have been stolen. This play is charismatic, vibrant, and touching. 

During the play, many things start popping up as Mari tries to handle everything independently. Just as when we thought everything was going well, we learn that the wrong catering order was delivered to the gallery. It’s no surprise that it’s Mari’s responsibility to maintain the spotlight, but with all the pressure to get it under control, we see her on the verge of losing it. As for her mom, Estella only shows up when necessary. She chose to show up before the party to uncover a dark past. On the other hand, Mari has this huge problem to fix, and she doesn’t want her mom to be here, making it worse, when Estella has been absent for most of her life. This play was successful because it’s a great demonstration of family dynamics. For example, Mari plays this angry façade for most of the play until she decides to talk to her mom about these problems and what has been frustrating her. It’s a realistic moment where most people can relate. It shows how Mari had to put down her walls to build new walls of trust with Estella. This scene speaks volumes about communication and love. To move on, the spectacle works well in the play, even in this scene. At one point, Mari returns from shopping and reveals an intense, scarlet dress with a glittering, uneven hemline. As the stage lights turn on, it illustrates Mari’s new persona; she’s become much more luminous with a simmering, feisty attitude. She’s not as cranky as she once was, and in her transformation, we see Mari overcoming the barriers of vulnerability. 

In most stories about people of color, the plot is always about how the character struggles as they try to achieve success. Rarely do stories start with a minority character who is already successful and tell us what they have sacrificed for that achievement. 

However, Alexis Scheer, a half-Colombian playwright, focused on these perspectives in her play called Laughs in Spanish, an engaging and meaningful play centered on Hispanic characters.

After seeing Seattle Rep’s Laughs in Spanish, I was both energized by its lively humor and left with some challenging questions to ponder.  I attended the 90-minunte play, written by Alexis Scheer and directed by Dámaso Rodríguez, as a Spanish student hoping to practice my listening skills and curious about what a “part telenovela, part whodunit” comedy would be like. Although the Spanish portions of the play turned out to only be brief phrases sprinkled into the dialogue, I could not have asked for a production more chock full of jokes, telenovela tropes, and big questions about identity and decision-making.

The drama begins when Mariana (Beth Pollack) discovers that all the paintings have been stolen from her Miami art gallery on the morning of her biggest show of the year. Juan (Gabriell Salgado), a decidedly unhelpful police officer, is on the scene. Juan also happens to be the boyfriend of Mari’s intern, Carolina (Diana Garle), a graduate student studying painting. Both are more focused on getting Mari to show Caro’s paintings in lieu of the intended artist’s work than on solving the crime. Then, Mari’s theatrical telenovela-star mother Estella (Diana Burbano), with whom she has a fraught relationship, arrives unexpectedly, bringing with her a whole new source of drama. Things get even more complicated when Estella’s assistant, Jenny (Cheyenne Barton), turns out to be Mari’s old crush.

Imagine a performance of Romeo and Juliet without words. Could the tale possibly be as beautiful, as heartbreaking, without Shakespeare’s mastery of language? The answer is yes. Pacific Northwest Ballet’s production of Roméo et Juliette uses the language of dance to convey all the personality and emotion of Shakespeare’s classic play through a medium that is perhaps more moving than words: the body.

Set to Sergei Prokofiev’s wonderfully dramatic score, the tale unfolds over three acts through a blend of contemporary dance and classical ballet, choreographed by Jean-Christophe Maillot in 1996. Maillot’s choreography, combined with a stark, minimalist aesthetic, pulls all focus towards the dancers’ movements. Without the distraction of frills or intricate sets, the skill and expressiveness behind each gesture truly shines. The dancers spun in simple, neutral-toned costumes, designed by Jérôme Kaplan, against the background of large, white, geometric shapes that make up Ernest Pignon-Ernest’s spare scenic design. The Montagues wore lighter colors, and the Capulets mostly wore darker colors, distinguishing the two families. Although Juliet wore several ethereal dresses of shimmering gold and silver, it was clear that neither the costumes nor sets were stars in the show—all the glory went to the dancing itself. The modern, pared-down aesthetic made the production feel more mature than PNB’s recent extravagant, glittery productions like The Sleeping Beauty.

In June of 2020, in the wake of the rising Black Lives Matter movement, more than 300 theater artists published the statement, “We See You, White American Theater.” This statement tore into the long-established racism within the theater industry: “Our love of theater has often meant surviving an industry-wide culture of fear poisoned by racism [...] Achieve cultural competency in us. Address your vocabulary, behavior, implicit bias, and lack of understanding. We are the experts, not the accessory.” The letter laid out a clear list of changes that needed to be made, highlighting the inadequate worker rights and representation. 65 years before “We See You” was published, playwright Alice Childress addressed near-identical issues through Trouble in Mind, yet the systemic racism of Broadway prevented its production and mainstream success until 2021. Before becoming a playwright, Childress was involved in years of local theatre, eventually making it to Broadway in the ‘40s. Her first-hand experience makes this play an invaluable perspective on Black actors’ experience prior to and during the civil rights movement. Centerstage Theatre’s production highlights the relevance of Trouble in Mind, playing a crucial role in addressing the long-running and unchanging racism within theatre.

Trouble in Mind is a satirical, challenging critique of racism within the theater, following a primarily Black cast in the rehearsal of an “anti-lynching” Broadway production called “Chaos in Belleville,” directed by a white man. Despite the progressive image of “Chaos in Belleville,” the egotistical director’s racism and biases are ingrained in the characterization and plot. The protagonist, Wiletta, is an experienced, strong actress accustomed to complying with stereotypical roles in the theater to make a decent income. Despite giving similar advice to the newer Black actors in the production (“You either do it and stay or don’t do it and get out”), she gradually becomes more openly opposed to the director, culminating in a heated argument that ultimately ends the production of the play. Trouble in Mind follows a variety of characters that differ in perspective on “Chaos in Belleville,” with a satire that still feels very relevant today. The cast of Trouble in Mind. Photo provided by Centerstage Theatre.

On April 8th at the UW Meany Center, the black Steinway piano and the iconoclastic pianist Lara Downes stood solitary on stage. Yet, as the classical composition began, it would turn out she was far from alone, accompanied by echoing ghosts of American history and identity.

Covering 14 songs plus one encore in two acts, Downes’ album This Land takes viewers on a cross-country road trip of American roots by paying homage to various musical greats of different time periods, from Scott Joplin’s energetic ragtime to Geroge Gershwin’s jazz-infused classical music to Paul Simon’s folk narratives. By “Reflecting a wide diversity of voices, both new and familiar, illustrating the beauty that resides in the broad landscape of American music,” Downes paints an honest picture of the complexities and beauties of American history. Especially considering the current political climate of the U.S., the arrangement feels like a poignant reminder of what it means to be American and explores a sense of pride that emerges even in a country that has undergone. Perhaps Downes said it best in her opening, right after playing a rendition of Paul Simon’s “America”: “The best place to find America is in music.”  

What if five of the greatest female mystery writers from the 20th century banded together to solve a real-life murder? Marie Benedict explores this question in her historical fiction novel The Queens of Crime, which stars Dorothy L. Sayers and Agatha Christie. I picked up my first Agatha Christie detective novel several years ago, and ever since, I have been hooked. So, when I heard about The Queens of Crime, I was intrigued. I realized that despite my love of Christie’s work, I have never delved into the work of her contemporaries. Would reading Benedict’s novel both shed light on these great women writers and weave a murder investigation worthy of these Queens of Crime?

Set in 1931, The Queens of Crime centers on the respected mystery novelist Dorothy L. Sayers, creator of the detective Lord Peter Wimsey and co-founder of the real-life Detection Club for crime writers. After being shunned by the club’s male members, Sayers bands together with fellow female authors Agatha Christie, Baroness Emma Orczy, Ngaio Marsh, and Margery Allingham. These self-named “Queens of Crime” plan to solve the real-life murder of a young English nurse named May Daniels, showcasing their worth to the men in the club. They conduct their investigation by traveling to France, where May’s body was found, and interviewing women involved in May’s life. These women were overlooked as witnesses by the police due to their gender and working-class status. Solving the murder becomes increasingly urgent when the police and press seem eager to dismiss May as a drug addict and close the case without proper investigation. The Queens soon realize the reality of the situation as “the only ones, aside from her killer, who know the truth,” and “the only ones who will do right by May” (Chapter 45).

The intensity of Cathy Hiatt’s expression as her gaze seared through the lifeless house she had once shared with her beloved Jamie was unforgettable. The power she harnessed to preach a thousand relentless words without daring to open her mouth magnetized my attention. I felt the world slow down around me as I tried to detect the character’s thoughts in the indefinite silence. Helplessly, I watched the last pittance of hope that Cathy grasped slowly escape her heart as she moved cautiously away from center stage. We simultaneously realized how the trials of romance are unexpectedly vulnerable, opening oneself up to the possibility of either blissful change or weathering agony.

Watching The Last Five Years at ACT Theatre (co-produced with The 5th Avenue Theatre) was undoubtedly a memorable experience. Since I discovered the musical in my freshman year, everything about the production felt captivating: the orchestral fuel and intricate lyricism behind each song, the personal journeys and evolution of Cathy and Jamie both individually and as a couple, and that classic, gut-wrenching question: how did they get here? The theatre-in-the-round staging of ACT’s Allen Theatre added an extra layer of intimacy and immersion to the story, providing the audience with sacred moments where they could almost look straight into the eyes of both characters. Synchronously, the audience could feel the impact of the characters’ current emotional state, whether they be embracing joy, battling fear and insecurity, or simply in constant wonder. The venue maintained a state of constructional simplicity; the furniture of the set was strategically limited so it became unbearable for the audience to observe what seemed like infinite space between Cathy and Jamie as they endured their separate experiences within a slowly deteriorating relationship. This invisible spatial barrier between the two made one particular scene all the more precious.

The Seattle Art Museum’s exhibit Meot (멋) displays an impressive assortment of traditional and contemporary works of Korean art, with a focus on pottery. The collection exhibits an array of Korean art: contemporary porcelain jars, 13th century vases and bottles, and ink-on-paper hanging scrolls. Despite the wide, open rooms of the gallery, the exhibit feels intimate and focused, accentuating the intricate details of the pieces. Meot, however, is most distinctive in its focus on the craft, humanity, and history behind its curation and collection. Meot, meaning elegance, beauty, and refined aesthetic sensibility, primarily exhibits Seattle-local Frank Bayley’s donated collection. Bayley (1939 - 2022) was a prolific art collector with an admirable, lasting impact on the community: besides being a longtime trustee and donor of hundreds of works to the Seattle Art Museum, he also co-founded the San Juan Preservation Trust in 1979, which continues to prevent thousands of acres of shoreline from further development on the San Juan Islands. 

Meot’s design is very intentional. Many of the featured artists emulate techniques and elements from the Korean Joseon dynasty (1392 - 1897), from the use of cobalt and white slip to implementing traditional calligraphy, symbolism, and even poetry. The exhibit’s curator, Hyonjeong Kim, is deliberate in her layout design; contemporary pieces are placed adjacent to traditional Joseon dynasty pieces, juxtaposing the time period while simultaneously emphasising the common motifs and influences. One of the exhibit’s stand-out pieces, Younsook PARK’s towering Moon Jar, directly imitates the Joseon “moon jar,” using traditional methods to replicate the pure-white harmonious form. The exhibit places traditional Joseon moon jars in close proximity, allowing the viewer to directly observe the influences and emulated techniques. Moon Jar, 2007, Youngsook PARK,South Korean, b. 1947, porcelain withclear glaze, 20 x 19 1/2 in. (50.8 x 49.5cm), Gift of Frank S. Bayley III, in honorof the 75th Anniversary of the SeattleArt Museum, 2007.86© Young SookPark. Photo: Susan Cole

Whether you realize it or not, you've likely understood the impact of Wing Luke Museum’s "Hello Auntie, Hello Uncle: Conversations with Our Elders." Throughout the exhibit, the use of auditory, visual, and tactile art pieces leaves a lasting impression on how we connect with our cultural heritage. The exhibition (which ran from April 5, 2024 to March 9, 2025) forces us to reflect on both why we neglect our relationship with our elders, and what makes their connection to our identities immeasurable. 

This intimate reflection on identity and belonging takes us on a journey through interactive installations and deeply personal stories; an invitation to step into the lives of immigrant relatives and explore the complexities of clashing cultural identities. 

In Chinese mythology, the dragon and the phoenix are animals that symbolize balance. They are opposite celestial beings bound together, representing power and grace, fierceness and beauty, completing what the other cannot fulfill. The book Sunlight Playing over a Mountain by Selena Li Bi gives these symbols a deeply personal meaning, shaping the fragile, shifting world of Jasmine Cheng, our protagonist, and her mother, where they must chase a sense of belonging and stability across ever-changing terrains. 

The book first introduces us to Jasmine Cheng, a 15-year-old Filipino-Chinese girl growing up in a small town called Briarplace in the Midwest. Her whole life is steeped in a myth. Her mother, Suchou, tells her that the two of them are the dragon and the phoenix, celestial beings who descend from the moon, and that her father is Pangu, the creator of the universe. Her mother’s grandiose myths are her escape from the mourning pressures of Jasmine’s reality- an absent father, an irresponsible and unreliable mother, and the ever-looming presence of being taken away from her mother through Child Protective Services, something she refers to as the “Keeper.” As her mother drifts in and out of her opium-dream world, cycling through boyfriends and herbal remedies, Jasmine is left to fend for herself, caught between devotion and disillusionment.

From a dark room with a green door at the beginning, to "the game is afoot" said in the middle of the show, to the applause of a satisfied audience at the curtain call - Miss Holmes, written by Christopher M. Walsh and directed by Angela M. Bayler of Centerstage Theater, is a clever spin on a classic. Female versions of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson create a feminist mystery with themes of death and betrayal while defying stereotypes of the typical Victorian Era woman by changing what would be proper Victorian Women's attire to pants, hats, and work boots. This was also done through how the women in the show talked and how sure of themselves they were. This show, boosted by excellent acting performances, delivers laughs and lots of whodunnit in a cozy, Federal Way theater. This was my first performance in Federal Way, and I was surprised to find this charming, innovative theater at the end of a long, woodsy road in a beautiful park. While I was eating a cookie from their refreshment table I saw a display portraying the challenges of Victorian womanhood and I appreciated being able to learn a little bit about this period before watching the show because it helped me understand the struggles that the female characters in the show faced. As the lights dimmed, the director stepped on the stage and introduced the show to the audience.  Although Miss Holmes and the 2020 film Enola Holmes are not the same, these female detectives have a few things in common: they both carry the Holmes name and have an overprotective brother named Mycroft. And despite being underestimated, these women use their knowledge and social status to blend into society and rebel against the expectations of the time.  The cast of Miss Holmes. Photo by Michelle Smith-Lewis.

The sets in the show feature the hospital where Dr. Watson works, Miss Holmes’s home, and Scotland Yard, and contain sophisticated portraits and warm furniture against a mysterious London background. The period costumes were chosen thoughtfully and were effective for every character. I especially loved Watson’s tweed buttoned-up dress and her medical bag. The men's button-up suits were fitting and I loved Mycroft's cane but it was used more like a prop than a cane itself. This made me wonder why they used the prop if he was only supposed to hold it and not use it for walking. I only wished for some more wardrobe changes for the two main roles which would have made the show more realistic and brought more personality through the characters.

It's too bad the word ‘opera’ is such a turn-off for young people. If I could have just convinced teens to watch the recent version of The Magic Flute playing at the Seattle Opera, their entire perspective on the art form would have changed, guaranteed. 

As I made my way through the opera house in search of my seat, I noticed that the audience was full of older adults. I was surprised by this, considering how every other performance that I’ve been to at McGraw Hall was seen by people of all ages. I suspect that this all has to do with the word ‘opera.’ The lights shut off, a spotlight hit the conductor, and the show began. For the next two hours, I was transported into a fairytale, but one infinitely more epic than your run-of-the-mill children's story.  

The last thing you expect in the elegant McCaw Hall is the rock energy of The Cramps' Surfin' Bird blasting through the house. Yet, this is only one of the many surprises Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Emergence program brings. The four pieces presented over a little over two hours spark surprise and wonder at every turn, each bringing something new, yet balancing out their companions.

The first piece is Dawn Patrol, the brainchild of PNB soloist Price Suddarth. It being the opening night, I was lucky enough to experience the world premiere of this work. Inspired by military reconnaissance flights held pre-dawn where pilots would fly out not knowing what they were headed into, Dawn Patrol aims to highlight heroism, both in such drastic conditions and in mundane, everyday moments. The piece juxtaposes quick, determined movements with slower, more individual steps–a pattern that’s subtle at the start but becomes clearer as the piece continues. The finale does this most directly, with the dancer switching between strong, powerful leaps and soulful collapses within seconds, fully emphasizing the idea of continuing to get back up and persevere.