Forget Broadway

Forget Broadway. Broadway is to theatre what MacDonald's is to food: a gross misrepresentation. If you're after something with a little nourishment for the soul, and if you just happen to be in Honduras, teatro la fragua is your best bet.

Recently, I had the pleasure of observing the troupe and travelling with it to several small mountain villages (more about this odyssey later). The purpose of my visit to El Progreso was to investigate the possibilities of making a documentary film about teatro la fragua. I'm a writer and was accompanied on the trip by one of the film's producers, Ed Burke. The other producer is Ruth Shapiro. To make a long story short, Ruth had an idea some years ago to write a screenplay about an American Jesuit who works in Honduras and gets caught up in local affairs of church and state. Then Ruth met Ed Burke and then we all met Michael Garanzini sj in San Francisco. And he said: "Don't do anything until you meet Jack Warner." Now we've met him. We spent almost two weeks with him and his remarkable actors, and we are more convinced than ever that a wonderful documentary could (and should) be made.

From reading these newsletters you know a great deal about the genesis and the past exploits of the company. I'll add but a few observations of my own. teatro la fragua is a fire burning in a dark night. And the heat is nothing less than joy. Yes, they are just a few individuals. Yes, theirs resources are meager. Yes, their productions are modest by David Merrick's crass standards. But to see the sweat and pride on the actors' faces and to see the response from their audiences is to know that a small revolution is taking place. A revolution of the heart. A revolution of hope. The actors are giving of themselves in the most ennobling ways. And clearly, they are getting back as much as they are sending out.

I have only this to add as a caution. If the maestro Jack Warner ever says to you, "Wanna come on the road with us?", think very carefully about your response. The road in long, with many a winding turn. Jack is a good driver but when a Honduras road is not paved, it ain't paved! And the back of small truck is hard to divide up evenly among five adult men. Ford nine hours. (Excuse this complaint. For a gringo to complain of any physical discomfort while in Honduras is offensive, to say the least.)

After our day in the sun and more bouncing hours in the pitch of evening, we rumbled into Victoria with troubled bladders and unusually bended knees. At ten o'clock, some of STRONG>la fragua 's local groups were rehearsing. Many had walked two or three hours through the mountains to get there. And they were up at 7:30 the next morning to rehearse some more. If you imagine that la fragua's actors are part-time players, you've imagined incorrectly. They work as hard as any theatre people I've ever met. Each of the four or five groups was working on a different dramatization of Gospel story.

Saturday evening arrived at the end of a hot and humid day. The sky turned a nervous shade of green-grey before letting go of a summer rain. The streets of Victoria with-out starlight are very dark indeed. But because it was a Saturday night, a certain charge of anticipation went up and down the main street. Small groups of Victorians were all dressed up with nowhere to go. A couple of bars lit with one dangling bulb were already steaming with men and their drinks and their complaints and broken dreams. The church bell rang out. The town got quiet for a moment, somehow, and very quickly the chapel got very full. Ed Burke and I were late getting to the church. When we entered, only standing room was left. The church looked beautiful, lit only with candles. The soft, steamy rain dropped politely into the roof. Mass began. The actors did their Gospel dramatizations to a rapt congregation. They performed as they always seem to, with charm and grace. In all honesty, nothing going on at the bars and the pool halls in Victoria was as charged with excitement as the performance on the altar. When the actors joined together as a choral group to sing a prayer, in the candlelight, in the chapel in the mountains of Honduras, the spirit of God was invoked without doubt. At home, I do not attend a church. If I lived in Victoria, and could hear a Mass like this on Saturday night, I believe I would.

--Stephen DeGange

teatro la fragua depends on your help.
Send your contribution to:

Jesuit Mission Bureau, Inc.
4511 West Pine
St. Louis MO 63108
U.S.A.