Rodolfo Usigli is described on Wikipedia as "the playwright of the Mexican Revolution" (the English article), and "the father of modern Mexican theater" (the Spanish article). In this his most famous play, university professor César Rubio moves his family from Mexico City to his hometown in the north. Tensions are high because it's hot, they're tired from traveling, his grown children are upset at being uprooted, and César himself feels like a failure. His daughter Julia thinks she's ugly and doubts she'll find anyone in the pueblo to replace a suitor she had back in the city; his son Marcos is upset at leaving the university. César is able to placate everyone, convincing them that he'll use his connections to obtain an administrative position after the upcoming elections. He's a historian of the Mexican Revolution, and he knows a lot about the former soldiers who have become politicians. He could potentially threaten them with blackmail in order to get ahead. Marcos makes him promise not to resort to dishonest methods.

Since this play is famous for being about the Revolution, I was surprised to find that the main character was a down-on-his-luck history professor and not a military man. I'd imagined the main character to be a general-turned-caudillo, or a disillusioned former revolutionary. The image I had in my mind was probably a mix of Pedro Páramo, Demetrio Macías (from Mariano Azuela's Los de abajo), and General Fernando Rojas (from Elena Garro's Los recuerdos del porvenir). I have a debate with myself whenever I read a work of fiction about the Mexican Revolution: should I find a good history of the Revolution, so that I can understand how the characters in these books relate to the historical figures who participated in the events of those years? Or should I go on allowing that place and time to exist in my mind only through fiction? I usually opt for the latter, so here I am once again, reading about César Rubio and his family, thinking about a revolution I hardly know.

After César Rubio and his family make amends and start to unpack (César complains that there's no place to put all his books), a Harvard professor named Oliver Bolton shows up at their front door. His car broke down on the road through town and he's hoping for a place to stay the night. César gets him to open up about the specific nature of his work in Mexico (without mentioning that he too is a professor), and soon Bolton is talking passionately about this great military leader named César Rubio who inspired his troops to greatness then disappeared without explanation, presumably betrayed by one of his aides. César Rubio (same name, but it's clear from the get-go that he's NOT the legendary César Rubio) sees an opportunity to put his intimate knowledge of the Revolution to use, and he eventually convinces Bolton that he has in his possession documents that will help clarify the fate of César Rubio. He presumably came across these items in his academic work. As he's haggling about the terms of his sale of these documents to the deep-pocketed Harvard man, Bolton begins to suspect, then believe, that he's sitting at the table with THE César Rubio. César lets him believe this without ever confirming it, making a series of cryptic comments about how history is but a dream, and how the great, forgotten military man might possibly have decided to teach history, the true history of the Revolution...

Four weeks later, a group of men show up at César's house to discuss his potential candidacy for the upcoming gubernatorial election. They'd like him to run against a corrupt former general. Bolton's article was published in The New York Times, and word has slowly spread that the real César Rubio lives. The entire conversation between César and those who would like him to rise to local political glory plays out in similar terms to his previous conversation with Bolton: he's not lying, but he's certainly letting people deceive themselves into thinking something that's not true. He philosophizes about how truth is always stranger than fiction, which is true because the fiction the men are believing (César Rubio's return) is nowhere near as strange as the truth of the ex-history professor pretending to be the César Rubio he is not. César also interacts with his family a lot during this second act, trying to justify his actions and calm their growing concern with his appropriation of the other's identity.

The third act takes place on election day. It is assumed that César will win in a landslide, as over the course of the past month he has convinced people that César Rubio is the best of all candidates and a truly inspiring figure capable of transcending the corruption endemic to Mexican post-revolutionary politics. He's visited by his opponent, former general Navarro, who made a brief appearance in the second act as a stranger looking for César. The general knows the truth behind the César Rubio matter and is prepared to bring it to light. Going into the conversation, though, he underestimates how much the César Rubio who's a history professor and an expert on the Mexican Revolution knows about him. They have an interesting standoff regarding whose truth will be told and how, and also regarding whether both men will live to see the next day.

It's funny, while reading this play a week ago I was rather nonplussed, but as I revisit it to write this my opinion has improved dramatically. I'd been reading a bunch of Golden Age comedias by Lope de Vega, and since they're so action-packed, Usigli's play came off as a bit slow, dense and generally boring. However, the conversations are truly fascinating. Which is more true, the historical facts, the academic's interpretation of those facts, or the truth of those who ended up in power? What happens when these different truths come face to face, with the participants understanding what's happening to greater and lesser extents? As César puts it:

"...history is nothing more than a dream. Those who made it dreamt of things that didn't come to pass; those who study it dream of the past; those who teach it (with a smile) dream that they possess the truth and are capable of transferring it." ( )

Esta obra es una de las piezas más importantes del teatro mexicano. Muestra el enfrentamiento entre el hombre y el poder, entre el hombre y la conciencia de su propia existencia. El Gesticulador pone en escena y en evidencia el poder del lenguaje sobre el mundo, sobre la sociedad, el poder para crear y subvertir la realidad. Nos advierte que la simulación, la afectación, la máscara son los signos clave que muestran el lenguaje, la diferencia entre la intención y el sentido, entre la verdad aparente y la mentira escondida. ( )