“Esperanza” means hope. And it’s hard not to feel hopeful walking into Trinity Street Players’ latest production, a coordinated effort in partnership with Teatro Vivo founders Rupert and JoAnn Reyes. I was new to their work, but was intrigued by their reputation for spotlighting local issues, elevating Latino creators, and telling stories that are too often ignored. Esperanza follows that tradition. The results? Mixed, but well-meaning.
The titular Esperanza doesn’t appear in the play until the end. Instead, it begins with Mercedes (Idelisse Collazo) arriving at her cousin Carla’s (Cherry Mendoza) moments after crossing the border into the U.S. The play proceeds over the next year. After leaving an abusive waitressing job, Mercedes is recommended as a nanny for a wealthy couple. That role changes into “house helper” for the grieving Rolando (Benjamin G. Bazán) and Lillian (Karina Dominguez), and things get complicated when Mercedes faces an unexpected pregnancy. What ensues explores immigration and infidelity in ways befitting a telenovela, but played stone-faced serious.
Esperanza premiered last weekend as the first Reyes production in nine years. Afterward, I was able to witness both writer/director Rupert and producer JoAnn’s induction into the Austin Arts Hall of Fame. Chronicle emeritus Robert Faires and the Statesman’s Michael Barnes were there to honor these two Austin legends.
Which made my own milquetoast response feel fatal. Rupert and JoAnn began talking about ideas for Esperanza right after Trump’s first election. The reality of people being threatened with deportation is even more pressing in our ICE-laden streets, and the Reyeses are obviously passionate about how we care for society’s most vulnerable members. I don’t want to be a bummer on a legacy act. I always hope to love productions. But this one left me cold.
I love that the play tells immigrant stories. But Mercedes seems more childish than determined. She trusts too easily, turns to other people to make her decisions, and needs a white woman savior to white-splain how not just America, but basic human morals work. Half the story plays out moments of power imbalance that made me squirm. Even the most innocuous moments – an offer of a drink, a seat on the couch – turned me into Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost: Oh no, Mercedes! You in danger, girl!
But it’s not clear if those line-crossing instances are supposed to be danger signals or not. It’s good to have basic empathy for others, and if you have more resources, you’re duty-bound to share. Esperanza wants to show this. But in doing so, it falls into cringeworthy blurred lines between employer and employee. A lot of what backs Mercedes into a corner is preventable. Besides, is it really helping others if you’re the one causing the problem?
This is exacerbated by the script’s reliance on telling, not showing. In the audience, I felt trapped in eternal debriefing follow-ups between events instead of witnessing events themselves. That is, we got to see deliberations on the effects of choices without fully understanding the causes. Exposition-dumping is hard for the most seasoned actors. It’s hard to keep up that energy. The actors work overtime to keep the plot train a-chugging, but they actually shine when the story gets to slow down, when director Rupert Reyes lets them sit while feelings flicker through their eyes and across their faces. It’s a testament to trusting your actors: Let them stop and process moments. It’s there where I saw the hope of what Esperanza, and what the Reyeses, could do.
Karina Dominguez particularly excels with that. She takes what could be another well-meaning white lady and fills her with humanity at every turn. Sure, she’s blissfully clueless. The kind of hapless do-gooder who can afford to say phrases like “at this job we’re family” and “you know we’ll take care of you.” Such casual condescension is recognizable and all too real, especially the way it can be treated like heroism. But with Lillian, it works. All the tension in the script comes from how she approaches relationship threads with Rolando and with Mercedes.
“Esperanza” means hope, but also expectation. Rupert Reyes’ play expects a lot. It expects to tell a story of choices. It rightfully expects sympathy for those with limited or no choices. And it also expects audiences to cheer for one-note heroes and jeer at simple villains. A world with those clear boundaries – women supporting other women, men who ain’t worth shit – is a lovely world to live in. If I expected a clear-cut story of good and evil, Esperanza would fit the bill. But I hoped for more.
Esperanza
Trinity Street Playhouse
Through October 24
This article appears in October 23 • 2026.
