As Eduardo Machado’s “The Cook” at Berkeley Repertory Theatre hopscotches through 40 fraught years in slightly less than two hours—starting with Fidel Castro’s triumphant, imminent arrival in Havana in 1958 and concluding (inconclusively, of course) with the devastating blockade that has upended Cuba’s fortunes—there is one relationship that remains steady.
Or so it seems to Gladys, the hard-working, devoted cook in a grand mansion in Havana.
The mansion’s kitchen, where all the action takes place, is beautifully designed by Tanya Orellana, right down to the decorative tiles, the sconces on the wall—this is obviously a wealthy family—and the platters of pastry and meat pies being served by a maid to the dozens of unseen guests gathered in an adjacent room to celebrate New Year’s Eve.
Gladys (a strong performance by Yesenia Iglesias) has been working for this elite white Cuban family since she was 12; she and the grande dame, Adria (Gisela Chipe) were girls together. When Adria suddenly sees the revolutionary writing on the wall, she throws on her treasured black fur coat (the 1950s-style rich people’s costumes are by Toni-Leslie James) to escape to America. She asks Gladys to safeguard the house for her return, perhaps in a month or so. Gladys wants nothing more than to assure her friend of her loyalty. “I’ll believe you love me if you protect my home,” Adria says.
Despite the tensions in world around them, Gladys does not want to hear about politics. “I’m a great cook,” she says. “That’s who I am.” Her husband, Carlos, the family’s chauffeur (Daniel Duque-Estrada), agrees, but thinks she should be working in a fancy hotel restaurant, not catering to this entitled family.
The revolution does come and nothing turns out exactly as expected for Gladys, Carlos and Gladys’ cousin, Julio (Ashton Muñiz), who is gay. As the play traverses the decades, only a young member of the extended family (played by Georgina Morillo) seems to have a focused, rational understanding of her place in Cuba’s morphing future.
Americans in the United States have had a sort of side view of the changes in Cuban society wrought by the revolution. It’s fascinating to see these changes over a four-decade trajectory, all played out by the various members of an interracial Cuban family. Racism is referred to but never examined in the play. This would seem like a good opportunity to really explore how, as one character says, a revolution can bring out the worst in everyone. Or maybe the best.
And certainly that’s Machado’s goal in this 20-year-old play.
If only the dialogue and events in the first act were less wooden, the characters more nuanced, and the issues more developed.
But it all feels uncomfortably like a mediocre TV family drama. Is director David Mendizábal looking for humor? If so, it doesn’t work. But it’s the cliché interchanges and formulaic angst that’s the problem: Carlos is having an affair. Adria suddenly tells Gladys she’s pregnant. The fancy homemade ice cream dessert doesn’t go as planned.
Yet in the second act, everything feels different. It’s 40 years later, Gladys has gray hair, Carlos is bald, and the revolution—from our American point of view anyway—is in tatters. An unexpected visitor from Miami (played by Chipe, who’s better in this startling role) upends what we might have expected. The emotions she provokes feel complex and true; even the dialogue feels less stilted, more natural.
Still, there’s a problem. Gladys’ insistence on keeping Adria’s house in order for a lifetime, of never leaving Cuba, is based not on her loyalty to the revolution, but loyalty to her old friend. But that bond is never convincing, in large part because Chipe’s acting is surprisingly artificial amidst an otherwise strong cast.
Yet Machado found the right ending for this drama. If only we could see a second installment, a follow-up to “The Cook.”
Berkeley Repertory Theatre’s “The Cook” continues through Oct. 11 at Peet’s Theatre, 2025 Addison St., Berkeley. Tickets are $44 to $114 at berkeleyrep.org.