A musical comedy about immigrants when we need one most

Washington Post

28-04-2025

NEW YORK — Theater usually lags behind the headlines because it takes time to develop something new. But 'Real Women Have Curves' arrives on Broadway at a moment when seeing the humanity of immigrants — however they're seen by the law — has assumed head-spinning relevance. Don't expect a taste of medicine beneath the heaping spoonfuls of sugar: It's a laugh-out-loud musical comedy with a massive dose of heart.
If that combination sounds unlikely, the creators pull off an impressive balancing act in relishing joy and humor amid striving and strife.
The new musical is based in part on the 1990 play by Josefina López and set three years before, when immigration reform signed by President Ronald Reagan extended amnesty to undocumented immigrants. Hesitant to trust U.S. authorities and apply for permanent residence, the characters in 'Real Women Have Curves' live under the threat of raids and deportation. Would that the consequences today weren't any worse.
The musical's coming-of-age story has a brighter outlook and richer detail than the 2002 HBO film (on which it is also based), in which America Ferrera sports the withering pout of a promising teenager trapped by circumstance. Sympathies in this production, which premiered at the American Repertory Theater in 2023, are more evenly spread, painting a fuller picture of the generational dynamics in immigrant families.
One hand is enough to count the number of times I've seen some version of the conversation I had with my parents when I was 18 — that going away to college to start a new life wasn't altogether different from their journey to the United States. That's the argument that Ana (played by fabulous newcomer Tatianna Córdoba) gears up to make when she earns a full ride to Columbia University just when she's most needed by the family business.
The setup may be too tidy, but at least the stakes are clear: Ana's sister Estela (Florencia Cuenca) runs an L.A. dress factory opened with their parents' life savings. A big order on a tight deadline calls for all hands on deck just as Ana is set to start an internship at a local paper. 'Que internship?' their mother asks with her typical bilingual sass. 'Instead of getting paid nothing by strangers, you can get paid nothing by your family. You're welcome.'
As the strict and devoted matriarch, Justina Machado is indispensable to the sly humor laced throughout the book by Nell Benjamin (who also worked on the musical adaptations of 'Legally Blonde' and 'Mean Girls') and playwright Lisa Loomer. Some of the laughs are silly and straightforward while others, rooted in truths about working hard and getting by, spring up by surprise. (When Ana, the only citizen in the room, finally finishes a dress, a fast-sewing seamstress quips, 'Damn, they're takin' our jobs.')
Sentiment is more often expressed in the score, by Benjamin Velez and singer-songwriter Joy Huerta, which layers Latin sounds over an otherwise indistinctive baseline of Broadway pop. The writing is cringey when at its least original: The opening refrain cribs Tim Gunn's sew-or-go catchphrase 'make it work,' and rap breaks in the title song strain too hard to mimic the musical's clearest predecessor, 'In the Heights.' (The eponymous focus on body image is toned down here, so the rousing anthem also seems to come out of left field.)
But there are a few standout numbers, which riff on the central theme of dreams that defy the constraints of reality — no wonder they all involve flying. Córdoba nabs affection early on, with Ana's soaring ballad about heading east and making good on her parents' sacrifice. Later, she duets with a newcomer from Guatemala, played by Aline Mayagoitia, imagining the freedom birds have to roam (and to take a 'chit') wherever they want.
Estela's daydream — of breaking through as a designer, jetting off to Paris Fashion Week and chasing untold possibilities — points to the maddening roadblocks that many people take for mundane: All of that would require the ability to show ID, get on plane and use a credit card.
The sequence is a high point in the production from Sergio Trujillo, a Tony-winning choreographer ('Ain't Too Proud') who brings a keen eye for movement and fluidity to his direction. The factory (which, in the film, Ana sneeringly calls a sweatshop) is less claustrophobic here, but still a site of confinement. When Estela imagines success, dress forms descend, gowns billowing. (The uncommonly subtle '80s costumes are by Wilberth Gonzalez and Paloma Young.) When Ana ventures off to a reporting job or on a date with her fellow intern (a sweetly bumbling Mason Reeves), the walls lift away and reveal an outside world sketched and embroidered in saturated color. (The set is by Arnulfo Maldonado, lighting by Natasha Katz and video design by Hana S. Kim.)
In rendering a close-knit community, with characters who each have personal histories and hopes for the future, 'Real Women Have Curves' is an extraordinary accomplishment. (In that, it shares some DNA with Jocelyn Bioh's 'Jaja's African Hair Braiding,' which played Broadway in 2023 and Arena Stage last fall.) If its message feels heavy-handed, that's because stories like it have rarely reached Broadway and have so much to say. Whether here or in future productions around the country, there's pleasure to take in listening.
Real Women Have Curves, ongoing at the James Earl Jones Theatre in New York. Around 2 hours and 15 minutes with an intermission. realwomenhavecurvesbroadway.com.