NOT QUITE WONDROUS

A Pulitzer winner takes a bumpy
trip to the Goodman stage

Fans of Junot Díaz’s Pulitzer-Prize-winning novel The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao are in for a bit of a shock with the world premiere of the English-language stage adaptation by Marco Antonio Rodríguez, now being performed at the Goodman. Examining transgenerational trauma and oppressive ideals of masculinity, along with a host of other issues, Díaz’s intricate novel was widely acclaimed by critics and readers alike and is now a staple on lists of the best books of the century.

Lenin Izquierdo

Directed by Wendy Mateo, the show opens on what initially seems like a sparse set by Regina Garcia (more on this later). We first meet the titular Oscar in his bedroom, preparing to go off to college. Oscar is a sweet, good-natured teen, obsessed with sci-fi, comic books, and all things stereotypically nerdy. He speaks in an affected formal cadence and seems to have a high emotional IQ in most life matters with the exception of romance. Oscar is also overweight, bespectacled, ungainly, and balances his eternal optimism for life with a defeatist conviction that he will be the first Dominican man to die a virgin. His college roommate is Yunior, also a Dominican, but one who is handsome, fit, and embodies another stereotype—that of the charming but insincere Latin lover. The two bond over a classic Alan Moore comic, Yunior takes Oscar under his wing, and we are off to the races.

Kelvin Grullon, Lenin Izquierdo

The characterization of Yunior is the most radical change from the novel, where he is the omniscient narrator and his attitude toward Oscar is far more complicated and not entirely nice. The reason I admired rather than loved the novel was because I disliked Yunior so much; it was something of a shock to see that character reconfigured as more or less the best big brother a nerdy kid could ever have.

Julissa Calderon, Kelvin Grullon

The first act of Oscar Wao is a platonic Pygmalion for the bro set, as Yunior—determined to get Oscar laid—sets about a program of de-nerdifying him. This leads to setups that are predictable but no less funny for being so. A scene where Oscar tries to walk like a hypermasculine “playa” in order to speak to his crush is a brilliant piece of physical comedy from all actors involved. Yunior also has his eyes on Lola, Oscar’s fiery older sister, who attends the same school. Despite the schmaltz and the set (I promise I’ll get to this), it all works. And it does so because of Lenin D’Anthony Izquierdo, who plays Oscar, and Kelvin Grullon, who plays Yunior. Grullon takes his archetypal character and gives it genuine depth. Yunior’s fondness—and eventual love—for Oscar is never in doubt. Even as his romance with Lola burgeons, it is always obvious where his primary loyalties lie. His onstage chemistry with Izquierdo is terrific, and every scene between the two of them works wonderfully.

Lenin Izquierdo

I gushed about Izquierdo’s expressiveness last season (he received a well-deserved Jeff nomination for Jesus Hopped The ‘A’ Train), and I’m pleased to say it was not an anomaly. Oscar is a very difficult character to play because he is so “nice,” almost unnaturally so, but Izquierdo gives a fully fleshed-out performance here, almost effortlessly conveying Oscar’s sweetness and naïveté without ever getting cloying or “cute.” Nothing Oscar does seems contrived or forced; even when his actions are utterly foolish, they make sense coming from him, and Izquierdo deserves most of the credit. If Angel Cruz was his calling card, Oscar Wao is his star-making turn.

Lenin Izquierdo, Jalbelly Guzmán

Until about ten minutes before the first act curtain, there is little of the introspection or darkness of the source material in the adaptation. Oscar’s obsession with his fukú, a family curse that he’s convinced is the reason for his unsuccessful love life, is the only hint of darker themes to come. Even the psychological abuse doled out by his mother Beli (a superb Yohanna Florentino) to both her children is played for laughs.

And then it all kicks in—and how.

Rossmery Almonte, Julissa Calderon

The second act of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is, quite frankly, a mess. Crammed from beginning to end with exposition, the play is essentially playing catch-up with the novel. This is also where the baffling set design becomes a major liability. The sets for the various scenes are usually just a couple of pieces of large furniture wheeled in and out by stagehands clad in outfits identical to Oscar’s—don’t get me started on that ridiculous, infantilizing denim romper that no college student, no matter how awkward, has ever worn since colleges were invented. In practical terms, what this means is that every ten minutes or so the audience waits while beds and assorted furniture are moved on and off stage. Aside from the poor design, what this amounts to is dead air—quite a lot of it—for a play that is already far too long.

Lenin Izquierdo, Kelvin Grullon, Rossmery Almonte,
Julissa Calderon, Yohanna Florentino, Arik Vega

There are a number of other missteps. Stefania Bulbarella‘s projections used to depict Oscar’s obsession with his fukú are charming the first couple of times, but by the sixth (seventh? eighth?) appearance they simply grate. Casting a light-skinned actress as Beli—whose very dark skin tone is a crucial plot element—is absolutely baffling, and one wonders what audience members unfamiliar with the novel made of her first-act overreactions to her daughter’s reclamation of her African roots. Other tantalizing issues—Yunior’s promiscuity, for one—are dropped almost as soon as they appear. One violent scene is heavily stylized; the next is presented realistically. The villains, all played by a swaggering Arik Vega (sadly underused, though he does get one marvelous seduction scene), are stylized like comic-book antagonists, cackles and all. There is no consistency, visual or thematic; just pick a style and stick with it.

Oscar Wao could have been adapted faithfully to the novel or radically reconceived as a buddy drama or coming-of-age story. With this extraordinary cast, either option might have worked. By splitting the difference, however, the play produces tonal whiplash. In the end, it gives us two halves that stubbornly refuse to make a whole.

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photos by Jay Towns

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
Goodman Theatre’s Owen Theatre, 170 North Dearborn
ends on April 12, 2026
for tickets ($34-94), call 312.443.3800 or visit Goodman Theatre

for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago

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