Passion project: Love of hip-hop, commitment to social justice animates suburban siblings’ Mark Twain adaptation
“Kid Prince and Pablo” — 3.5 stars
Asked for a word that describes Lifeline Theatre’s exuberant Midwest premiere of “Kid Prince and Pablo,” I would choose “impassioned.”
Subtitled a “digital age, American hip-hop play,” this fresh take on Mark Twain’s “The Prince and the Pauper” by theater artists Brian and Marvin Quijada reflects the suburban siblings’ love for all things hip-hop as well as their commitment to social justice.
The former is evidenced by the play’s propulsive beats, insistent grooves and sly, incisive rhymes. The latter is reflected in the characters’ pleas for equity and inclusion, dignity and respect.
Brian Quijada adapted Twain’s story and Marvin Quijada composed the score for the play, which was commissioned for young audiences and premiered in 2019 at the Kennedy Center. Unlike the original, which published reports indicate ran about 80 intermissionless minutes, Lifeline’s production runs about two hours (with intermission) suggesting the Quijada brothers expanded the tale.
An examination of privilege and power, resistance and rebellion, justice and inequality, “Kid Prince and Pablo” unfolds in the near future, in an unnamed country similar to our own, where socioeconomic divisions run deep and the culture war has moved beyond a metaphorical conflict.
The ruling elites live behind a 15-foot-high fence in a capitol city that resembles Washington, D.C. Outside the fence, an “omega race” of oppressed people composed of “all the crayons in a box” are confined to an urban wasteland where the bravest among them rap rebellion.
Having quashed one burgeoning revolution, the elites attempt to avoid another by outlawing all things hip-hop and arresting artists, sending nascent MCs underground where they speak their truth and hone their message while swelling their ranks.
The exposition comes courtesy of a hip-hop Greek chorus whose members — Samuel (Terrance Mayfield Jr.), Langhorne (Shaina Toledo) and Clemens (Bryan Nicholas Carter) — share the given name of the humorist known as Mark Twain.
“Speak out/Hold on, open up, dream/Let’s fight for our rights/so we can finally breathe” they rap to beats supplied by Pablo (the endearing, innocent Jesus Barajas). A part-time drummer boy and full-time sweetheart, Pablo is a recent immigrant struggling to learn English from his overworked mother (Toledo, who also plays an ailing queen and an insurgent MC).
On the other side of the fence, in his posh capitol digs, the queen’s son and heir Maximillion (Joshua Zambrano as the likable entitled goofball Kid Prince) spends his time crafting vacuous, self-aggrandizing rhymes instead of attending to the affairs of the state he will one day rule.
The young men meet after wannabe rapper Kid Prince hears Pablo play and orders the drummer brought to his room, where he proposes they swap identities so the prince can compete at an underground MC battle.
Pablo agrees, and soon finds himself in the middle of a coup by General Jackson (Carter), a military adviser eager to “exterminate” the latest crop of rebels.
Meanwhile, Kid Prince gets schooled by more experienced rappers Sparrow (Mayfield) and Rocket (Carter), who rhyme about health care, education and affordable housing and who shame the prince, saying “you got nothing to say that means something.” Caught up in a protest, Kid Prince lands in jail where he meets celebrated MC Francoise Jones (Toledo), who turned rebel after losing the family farm to medical debt.
While their experiences open both young men’s eyes, Kid Prince’s epiphany is more profound. Encouraged by Francoise, he learns to speak his truth. Chastened after living among the poor and dispossessed, he recognizes his complicity in his subjects’ oppression and apologizes to Pablo, whose cordial rejection and his subsequent admonition to “do better” makes for one of the play’s most eloquent, most guileless moments. Second only to the gentle plea for interdependence that concludes the play, “do better” is advice that bears repeating.
Sadly, that’s not true of everything in “Kid Prince and Pablo.” Take, for instance, the repeated calls for health care, jobs, quality education and affordable housing. While laudable, they get a bit repetitive. That also goes for a couple of supporting characters who are almost indistinguishable from each other. A few minor edits would resolve those minor problems while streamlining the narrative, which would likely play well at 90 minutes.
But those are minor points in a show that resonates even more today than it did five years ago.
Kudos to director Raquel Torre for her fresh, kinetic production that embraces hip-hop organically and without contrivance. Kasey Alfonso’s choreography, which briefly pairs 17th-century conventions with contemporary street dance, has style and wit. So do designer Jazmin Aurora Medina’s costumes. For the MCs and rebels, she adds splashes of primary colors (blue, red and green) to conventional black and gray streetwear, providing a stark contrast to the elites whose gold-embellished white jackets suggest neatly sanitized but ultimately colorless lives.
Complementing Harrison Ornelas’ grim, appropriately grungy set is lighting designer Brenden Marble’s vibrant, strategically placed neon: a brilliant illustration of the glorious light that pierces the darkness.
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Location: Lifeline Theatre, 6912 N. Glenwood Ave., Chicago, (773) 761-4477 or lifelinetheatre.com
Showtimes: 7:30 p.m. Friday; 2:30 and 7:30 p.m. Saturday; and 2:30 p.m. Sunday through Feb. 16
Tickets: $20-$45
Running time: About 2 hours, with intermission
Rating: For teens and older