In “The Hombres,” a lithesome man takes a seat in the middle of a yoga studio, inhales deeply and shares a story from his childhood. In fourth grade, Julián (Conrad Matta) had a crush on a bus driver, he recounts on stage at Aurora’s Vintage Theatre, where Tony Meneses’ play is receiving its regional premiere. But when the driver singled him out one day, he didn’t know what to make of it and became increasingly panicked. That he thought he might be in danger makes a sad sense.
Julián’s account offers a case study in the ways a kid’s yearnings might get knotted up with feelings of being in danger. Julián isn’t ashamed of his sexuality, but a shard of that long-ago anxiety lodged in him has made him wary.
This nuanced backstory about pining and danger doesn’t go where we might fear. But it does set the tone for “The Hombres,” a play that explores why some men do not trust each other — or themselves — with their feelings, be they this young, gay, Mexican-American yoga instructor or three New Jersey construction workers. “The Hombres” makes a culturally resonant case for how the masks of male pride (machismo) can exacerbate suspicion.
Meneses knows how to write at the intersections in which real people might meet. In 2020’s Denver Center world premiere of his near-future drama, “20Fifty,” those people were a senatorial candidate and his more authentic opponent; his very assimilated daughter; his mother; a Latina sheriff; and an undocumented migrant who’d managed to get into the U.S. even though the border with Mexico had been effectively locked down. In “The Hombres,” it’s a yoga instructor, three construction workers and a white male student, all of whom tease or confound expectations.
Adjacent to the yoga studio, Pedro (Brandon Lopez) and Beto (Brandon Billings) stand eyeing the street below from girders and scaffolding. Beto catcalls, hawks and then spits on passersby. When he observes that gringos seem ridiculously unhappy given the millions they make, Pedro reminds him that not all white people are wealthy and gives him a lesson in class.
“No, my daughter says that rich people use poor gringos against us — Mexicans and Black people and Muslims — so that we all don’t rise up together and destroy the capitalist system that engenders social and economic inequality.”
It’s a clever bit of writing. It introduces the notion that Pedro does well enough to send his beloved daughter to a good charter school and that he takes seriously what she’s learning there. And it underlines the differences between the easy-to-like Pedro and Beto, a young hothead.
Another worker, visor down, welds a beam above the men, oblivious to their banter. When Héctor (Joaquin Liebert) joins them, it becomes clear he’s invested in keeping his head down — no loitering, just getting the job done. He’s gruff with Beto but less so with Pedro, who is his friend.
Some of Héctor’s no-nonsense aura is pure work ethic. But he’s also going through a separation from his wife; they have kids. Out of Beto’s earshot, Pedro asks his friend how things are going. An answer isn’t forthcoming.
Next door at the studio, which is visible from the scaffold’s deck, Julián waits patiently for one of his new students to leave. When he’s alone in the studio, he sometimes puts his phone on speaker, selects a song and begins to dance (the fluid choreography is by Adrianne Hampton). Clad in decidedly un-Lululemon attire, Miles (Michael Gurshtein) seems to be dawdling. Their exchange is typical of a new student but could also read as subtle flirtation. When Miles notices something affixed to Julián’s tank, he reaches out to remove it. Julián’s boss likes to communicate via sticky notes. This one asks that he talk to the construction foreman about their noise but also about the worker who keeps staring into the studio.
Initially, the set on the theater’s rectangular stage looks oddly separated. But with its cool, minimalist yoga studio eating up most of the stage and the skeletal infrastructure of a worksite tucked to the side, the proportions smartly contrast the worlds the characters inhabit. The yoga studio has become a signifier of gentrification. What are those workers building? Condos, of course.
When Héctor — hard hat in hand — enters the studio, those worlds don’t collide, exactly. Instead, they meet uneasily, even touchingly, as Julián harbors dreams of dancing professionally and Héctor wants to hush his demons.
From his perch, Héctor has been spying on a world that appears to offer calm. When he enters the studio, things change for Julián and for this older man seeking equanimity. (Why he would seek tranquility over beers at the end of a long day will be revealed. ) The next time he visits the studio, Héctor has a request: Will Julián trade yoga classes for custodial work?
“The Hombres” is not a vexed coming-out story. From its opening minutes, it’s clear Meneses isn’t interested in that particular reveal. Still, it’s a sweet surprise when Héctor (played with a kind of kid’s sheepish curiosity) insists early, credibly, that he’s cool with Julián being gay.
So why does it feel like there’s a danger in their clandestine yoga-for-custodial-services arrangement? What will happen once Beto and Pedro learn where their coworker goes after a long day on site? Hint: What occurs is both hilarious, harrowing and a little heartbreaking.
Although some of the acting feels at times tentative, this able cast brings sweet comedy and prickly tensions to questions about which facades will crumble and what truths will be sorted out. All along the way, these men show that although they are different — in class and life experience, in their fears, failings and hopes — they can let their guard down and maybe just breathe.
Lisa Kennedy is a freelance writer specializing in film and theater.
IF YOU GO
“The Hombres”: Written by Tony Meneses. Directed by Dana Hart Wright. Featuring Conrad Mata, Joaquin Liebert, Brandon Lopez, Brandon Billings and Michael Gurshtein. At the Vintage Theatre, 1468 Dayton St., Aurora. Through July 7. Vintagetheatre.org or 303-856-7830
