A FAMILY REUNION TURNS
INTO A PRESSURE COOKER

A fascinating first act can’t survive a
nearly three-hour drift into exhaustion

Stacey Martino Rivera’s world premiere The Circle at Greenway Court Theatre begins with a smart framing device: a teenage presentation by Ana (Ava Rivera) on restorative culture that gestures toward indigenous healing circles—and then cuts to her family “circle” some four years earlier that’s anything but healing. Act I plays like the opening movement of an American memory play: three generations under one roof, old grudges snapping back to life, everyone talking past everyone, and that familiar August: Osage County hum of dread as the weekend’s chemistry turns combustible.

Alma Martinez, Victoria Ratermanis, Ava Rivera, Lisa Richards, Michael BrainardAlma Martinez, Lisa Richards, Michael Brainard, Lakin Valdez, René Rivera

The setting is July 2016 in San Antonio, with national unrest bleeding into domestic unrest (there has been so much bloodshed in America that I clean forgot about five police officers being shot and killed by a sniper during a protest in downtown Dallas). Matriarch Eva Medina (Alma Martinez) lies in a hospital bed in the living room, her health and cognition slipping, yet she still lands as one of the sharper minds in the room. A sinkhole in the yard threatens a beloved tree planted by her late husband—an image Rivera returns to as both literal danger and metaphor: the ground shifting under the family story, swallowing what they’d like to preserve. Caring for Eva is Mary Padrón (Jeanette Godoy), a neighbor-goddaughter figure who functions like the household’s moral thermostat, trying to keep the temperature from going nuclear.

René Rivera (José Medina) and Lakin Valdez (Ronnie Medina)René Rivera and Michael Brainard

Then the weekend’s arrivals start stacking up: Eva’s youngest son Ronnie (Lakin Valdez), now a working actor in Los Angeles, returns with his very pregnant partner Molly (Victoria Ratermanis), their tween daughter Ana (Luna Rivera) (yes, the Ana who is telling the tale), and Molly’s mother Maeve (Lisa Richards), still in funeral-black grief from burying her husband and determined to run the show. Meanwhile, Eva’s eldest son José (René Rivera) barrels in with the kind of volatility that suggests history doesn’t merely haunt this family; it grabs a chair and sits down. His latest bad decision is also the play’s most overt comic engine: after a car accident involving a MAGA-loving stranger, the inebriated Bud (Michael Brainard), José brings him home, tapes him to a wheelchair, locks him up in the closet, and tries to problem-solve by digging the hole deeper. And did I mention that Molly is a conflict resolution facilitator?! It’s an absurd premise in a realistic living room, and that friction can be entertaining—at least at first.

René Rivera and Lisa RichardsRené Rivera and Luna Rivera

That “at first” is the catch. What starts as a juicy, layered ensemble piece gradually becomes a marathon. At nearly three hours, the play’s blend of memory play, political argument, and a bemusing late-in-the-game magical-realist gesture keeps circling the same emotional territory long after its strongest ideas have landed. Moments that could cut cleanly to the bone get padded with repetition; thematic devices recur until they feel less like design and more like delay. The result isn’t merely overlong—it’s the particular fatigue that comes from watching a story refuse to decide what it wants to be.

Lisa Richards and Michael BrainardRené Rivera

Still, the casting does real work. Several roles feel so naturally inhabited it’s easy to imagine the parts were written with these actors in mind. Mr. Rivera makes José dangerous and funny in the same breath, the kind of performance that can yank a scene back into focus. Ms. Ratermanis, as Molly, brings grounded specificity that helps the play’s many tones coexist longer than they otherwise might.

Victoria Ratermanis (Molly Medina) and Lakin Valdez (Ronnie Medina)René Rivera and Alma Martinez

But with a large cast and a script that asks for sustained emotional clarity, uneven technique shows. Not every performance can carry the weight of the writing, and some choices tip into generalized volume where precision would land harder. And yes: the perennial small-theatre sin reappears—mumbled lines and swallowed consonants. In a play this talk-heavy, projection is not optional.

Graciela Rodriguez, Jeanette Godoy, Luna Rivera,
Victoria Ratermanis, Lisa Richards (seated) and Alma Martinez

D.W. Jacobs’ staging has strong instincts for the family-machine of it all—the way alliances shift mid-sentence and old wounds reopen with the casualness of habit. What’s missing is the ruthless sculpting that would let the evening feel inevitable instead of interminable. The Circle has an arresting setup, distinctive actors, and a handful of scenes that genuinely crackle. It simply needs to trust its best material, cut the rest, and stop wandering once it’s made its point.

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photos by Steve Moyer

The Circle
Greenway Arts Alliance
Greenway Court Theatre, 544 N. Fairfax Blvd.
Fri and Sat at 8; Sun at 2 (dark Feb. 14, added performance Feb. 28)
ends on February 28, 2026
for tickets, visit Greenway Court

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