A bold, bright Broadway musical

Real Women Have Curves has been moving audiences to tears since the early ’90s. As a play, as a film, and now as a musical, this story has worked as a love letter to women everywhere, and even as it enters its fourth decade, it is no less prescient or powerful. But make no mistake, it is quite different.

The latest realization of Josefina López’ seminal play is bigger, brighter and bursting with heart as it traces Ana García’s (Tatianna Córdoba) coming-of-age beneath the weighty expectations of her mother and her own desire to pursue loftier dreams. 

The core remains the same: Ana, a second generation Mexican immigrant, has no interest in the family’s sewing factory, nor in being rooted to Boyle Heights, Los Angeles, where she was raised. Instead, she wants to fly away to college, despite her mother Carmen (Justina Machado) seeking to ground her in practicality. After a dress order comes in, threatening to make or break the business, Ana agrees to help out her sister Estela (a scene-stealing Florencia Cuenca) by working at the factory over the summer — but juggling work, her ambitions, and her mother’s watchful eye proves more complicated than she expected.

This Ana does not back down from the challenge. Gone is the sullen, resentful young woman that marked America Ferrera’s well-deserved breakout. She is replaced by Córdoba’s bold, fiery Ana, an aspiring journalist unafraid to speak her mind and an accomplished student who has already been accepted to Columbia on a full ride — so what’s holding her back? It’s simple: Ana yearns for her mother’s approval. How can she possibly fly away without Carmen’s blessing?

The conflict is a messy combination of internal and external, as Ana seeks to answer the same questions that any child of immigrants will recognize: How far can I go? What do I owe my family? How can I help them?

Showing the full spectrum of humanity and allowing a complex assortment of Latina women to shine has always been the biggest draw of Lopez’s story, and this version takes that a step further — it makes the experience not only moving, but very, very fun.

The production, which opened at the James Earl Jones Theater on Sunday, boasts a heartfelt and riotous book by Lisa Loomer and Nell Benjamin, and delightful music from Joy Huerta and Benjamin Velez. It plays incredibly well to a crowd: The jokes are constant and the warmth palpable. It’s a true communal experience, which is no surprise given the amount of heart this show brings to the table. 

The scene that gives the show its name — in which Ana defies her mother’s snipes about her weight by stripping off her clothes and ironing in her underwear — is the highlight of the night, and even earned a mid-show standing ovation when I attended, which will no doubt become a trend.

The show is an absolute joy to witness with its vibrant scenery and lively choreography. It also pulls off a crucial balancing act, immersing us in the real, textured world of their East Los Angeles locale, leaning into the detail and intimate moments, and then, in the right moments, embracing fantasy by whisking us into the character’s minds and letting their dreams be visualized onstage.

Much like the film, the musical acts as a star-making moment for its lead. It’s a shock that Real Women marks Córdoba’s first time on Broadway: She crafts an easily lovable protagonist, making the stage her own with breathtaking vocals and a layered take on her character. Ana is a force to be reckoned with, but the same youthful resolve that makes her charge forward lends itself to her most frustrating moments. There is still so much she doesn’t understand about the women that surround her, and the power they wield.

Meanwhile, Machado is unsurprisingly a powerful stage presence as Ana’s cynical, overworked mother, who longs for her daughter to realize that the lessons she offers could never be taught at an Ivy league school.

The cast is rounded out by the women of the factory: Cuenca’s Estela, Shelby Acosta as Prima Flaca, Carla Jimenez as Pancha, Aline Mayagoitia as Itzel, Jennifer Sánchez as Rosalí, and Sandra Valls as Prima Fulvia. They each get at least one moment to shine, but even when they aren’t centerstage hold their own with humor, personality, and gorgeous vocals. 

Mayagoitia’s Itzel is a particular standout: The 17-year old Guatemalan refugee is a quiet counter to Ana’s bold presence. She immediately endears herself, delivers a particularly charming number and is later tasked with carrying us through an emotional low point.

In a vacuum, Real Women Have Curves is a rather unburdened delight. But in reality, Ferrera’s shadow, and the film’s grounded take on this story, loom large. I found myself missing the prickly nature of the original character, the nuance that such an imperfect protagonist brought to the table.

That version of Ana contained infuriating multitudes: She was frustrated, misunderstood, hurt, and prone to lashing out. She was right to have those feelings, and at times wrong about how she processed them. Those rough edges have been smoothed over, and while there is still that balance of her being right and wrong, having much to learn and making important points, we lose the feeling that at times, she is the one standing in her own way.

The same can be said of Carmen, who is similarly sanded down. She still makes unkind jabs at her daughter, mocks her weight, and is forced to look inward at where those critiques originate, but the writing — and Machado’s charming performance – remove much of the complex bitterness she once carried.

It’s certainly not an unmotivated change. Real Women Have Curves now has room to focus its anger on the real villains of this story — vile politicians clinging to rhetoric and the “right” and “wrong” kinds of immigrants; cruel Immigration Naturalization Services (INS) officers dehumanizing undocumented people at every step; and a wider system willing to benefit off the cheap labor of immigrants while treating them like dirt. And this is a necessary, deeply affecting update.

This is the inevitable tension of adaptation: There is something lost by this latest translation. But then, isn’t that the benefit of Real Women Have Curves being a classic work? These versions can coexist. The original hasn’t been erased but retrofitted for a new crowd and a new form. The musical format is a place for boldness and celebration, a chance to make this story a euphoric experience. There are moments in this iteration that exist in no other. 

More importantly, despite the differences, the message remains the same. There is still a very clear sense that this is a story that sees each and every one of these women; that makes no apologies as it allows them to take up space; that demands its audience accept them, gives the room to accept themselves and always believes in their ability to grow. By the end of the show, the young Ana is indeed taking flight, but she is not soaring solo. Grade: A–