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All about Alcalá
Andrés Alcalá is
making his mark
on the Portland
theater scene,
several
characters
at a time
by
F l o r a S ussely
W ith
A C o n s c ie n c e
Complete automotive service
of Japanese and American cars
and light trucks.
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ASE Certified Mechanics
Certified DEQ Repair Facility
A
ndrés Alcala is a small-town hoy turned
Shakespearean actor. So, w hat’s he doing
in Portland? Q uite a lot, actually.
W hen I caught up with him, he was
rehearsing an assortment characters for Men on
the Verge of a His-panic Breakdown. He and
playwright Guillermo Reyes were locked in a
long day of blocking out the eight gay Hispanic
characters that Alcala will bring to life at the
Miracle Theatre.
To those of you who attend Portland th e
ater regularly, Andrés Alcala is the savagely
handsome Ramon in Artists Repertory T h e
atre’s production of Terrence McNally’s Love!
Valour! Compassion; he is the cruel, villainous
Duke Fedrik and the sweet empathetic Signor
of Tygres Heart’s production of Shakespeare’s
As You Like It. He is also the alluring and mys
terious Latina diva of Reyes’ Deporting the Divas
at Miracle Theatre; and the fragile, angry
AIDS patient in A R Ts production of David
Rabe’s A Question of Mercy. In short, he is one
of Portland’s most sought after and versatile
actors. So, what’s his story?
Always the clown, the family ham, he loved
to make his parents laugh. Later, teaching spe
cial-education and Down syndrome kids, he
used his acting talent to role-play. “I’d show
them what they were doing by doing exactly
what they were doing. T hen they’d say, ‘T h at’s
not what I’m like,’ and they would change
their behavior. It was a way of communicating
with them.”
W hat happened next was the catalyst for
wonderful things, hut at the time it was very
painful: “In my senior year in high school, I
came out. My parents were not supportive and
I got my GED, became an emancipated minor
and left Crescent City. I left behind the lead in
Grease, the kids I’d been teaching, everything.’’
Somewhere along the line, Alcalá realized
that running was not what he wanted and, in a
very courageous move, he returned to the town
and the family that had scorned him. W hat he
found was surprising. Everyone had been pray
ing that he would return. His father installed a
little trailer in the backyard, complete with
everything— including cable—and a sign that
read: “Your Home a Bit Away from Home.”
As Alcalá conquered his demons, new ones
replaced the old ones. An adult lover was
arrested because Alcalá was still a minor, and a
platonic friendship with an exchange student
was investigated as a sexual transgression. “By
the time I got to college, I had already suffered
a lot of the indignities of
/
I
homophobia,” Alcalá says
evenly.
And indeed, he had managed to assert his
personhtxxi before an entire community that
had alternately banned him, investigated him
and recognized his gifts.
In college, thoughts of teaching special-edu
cation kids gave way to love of theater. After
getting his degree, Alcalá went on to two sea
sons at the Ashland Shakespeare Festival. So,
what happened then?
He fell in love. After a year of letters and
visits, Alcalá says, he followed his heart. Now,
settled in Portland, steadily burning through
the local theater scene, he sits hack to reflect
on my questions, which he pnxdaims “diffi
cult."
Alcalá is disarmingly shy. All at once he
will smile a sideways smile, shrug and say,
“Well, you know, I’m from a small town.” He
was raised speaking only Spanish at home and
his vowels have a Latin ring. He is very pale
with very black wavy hair and lips like Disney’s
Snow W hite. In short, he is Dracula and Zorro,
drama personified.
The interesting juxtaposition is that he is
not at all dramatic or commanding in personal
presence. He slouches, whispers, and, as we
hunched over proof sheets of his photos he
complains: “1 don’t like that picture— I kxik
fat.” He is not.
As rehearsals continue, he becomes an old
gay Cuban restaurateur, a wickedly sarcastic
English professor, a young gay Mexican boy in
love, and others. Generations, regions and situ
ations swirl in the empty house. Slowly, Reyes
directs Alcalá this way and that. It is not often
an actor has the opportunity to work with the
playwright, and Alcalá is obviously in awe.
They have been here for hours.
I am struck with how hard they are working
to bring us these Hispanic men. In Reyes’ play
we learn the history of otherwise invisible
members of our community— from the Cuban
“gay concentration camps” of Castro, to some
one suffering alone with AIDS. The human
voice. And, in the capable hands of Alcalá, it
is sure to speak to us all.
A rtists repertorytheatre
Updated Misanthrope
shakes, shocks,
Bob Hicks - The Oregonian
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A World Premiere!
hfM 15 A N T H Rp p e
by M oliere translated & adapted by L auren G oldman M arshall based on a concept by A lan C raig D i B ona
directed by D ennis B igelow
original music by D an R eed
M AY 18 - JUNE 27
For tickets call: 241-1 ART
■ M e n o n t h e V e r g e t v a H is - r A N i c B r e a k -
shows at 8p. m. Fridays and Saturdays,
June 4-26, at the Miracle Theatre, 525 S.E. Stark
St. in Portland. Ticket pnces range from $I2~$I5.
For reservations, call (503) 236-7253.
^
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g w *.
tow n
Ploy Sponsor:
Season Sponsor:
This play contains nudity and strong language.
T e k tro n ix
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