Ana García, an 18-year-old Mexican-American, dreams of leaving her tight-knit family in East L.A. to become a journalist. She has been accepted to Columbia University on a full scholarship, but fears telling her mother Carmen, who has other plans for her daughter. Ana’s sister Estela runs the family’s small dressmaking business with a team of undocumented women.
When a demanding dress broker offers Estela a make-it-or-break-it deal to produce 200 dresses on a seemingly impossible deadline, Ana’s help becomes critical. Set in 1987 during the Reagan-era amnesty program for undocumented immigrants, the musical feels chillingly relevant today. The workers in the factory live in constant fear of raids and deportation, a threat that becomes all too real for seamstress Itzel, a Guatemalan refugee.
The show astutely depicts the mixed emotions of grappling with obligations and expectations of one’s self, family, and culture. Ana’s guilt creates a need to iron out differences with her mother and receive her blessing, but that’s not likely. “What if I have bigger dreams?” Ana asks.
“Sleep less,” is her mother’s cold response. The performances by the colorful ensemble of women are all splendid.
Ana’s aspirations and family dynamics
Justina Machado graces the multi-layered character of Carmen with dignity, humor, and humanity. The male characters, including Ana’s father Raul and her nerdy new boyfriend, are largely on the sidelines. The show’s ending feels somewhat unearned and underwritten.
Perhaps if only Carmen could fully realize that Ana’s future writing will create something special that honors not only her but all the women like Carmen who, with fortitude, resilience, and passion, will always be there making it work. Despite the dark themes, the play balances its tone with plenty of bubbly, cheeky joy, and big-dreaming sincerity. Its politics are inherent, resonating through its characters’ lived experiences rather than as a preachy flag.
The musical’s design, including sweeping video projections and a malleable set, expands the narrative beyond just a family drama. The songs, filled with strains of salsa and mariachi, are both buoyant and engaging, enhancing the storytelling. The ensemble’s enthusiasm is palpable, particularly in scenes like “Adios Andrés,” a comedic song about menopause.
The show’s body positivity forms a strong current in Ana’s coming-of-age story and the growing confidence among the female characters. *Real Women Have Curves* delivers a warm, sturdy embrace, opening its arms fully to the audience.
