That play, brilliantly directed by Teatro de la Luna's Raul Martin and enigmatically performed by Grettel Trujillo, features a dwarf who has been trapped in a bottle for so many years that solitude has turned him into somewhat of a philosopher. As he contemplates the advantages and disadvantages of his isolation, he finally determines that he prefers to live in isolation, because he wouldn't know what to do with freedom. Estevez's ingenious metaphor is just one example of the unique characteristics that distinguish Cuban literature: the use of subtext as a way of speaking about the unspeakable.

Another striking aspect of Cuban theater that audiences were exposed to is its physicality. As Sarraín observed in an interview before the festival: "If theater were a matter of simply talking, it would be radio. Theater is physical. It is movement. In film the eye of the audience is determined by the eye of the camera (or rather the director), but in theater this is not the case. You have to be able to capture the poetic image and reveal it within a specific time and space. When you do that your life changes."

Veteran Cuban actress Adria Santana gave a fine example of this physicality in Abelardo Estorino's Sorrows Know How to Swim, which brought down the house. More than simply the portrayal of an actress reflecting on why and how she became an artist, audiences watched mesmerized as Santana seemed to drown her sorrows one moment and walk on water the next. Her vast range and impeccable emotional control took audiences on a theatrical roller coaster where love turns to hate and laughter can give way to tears with a single gesture or change of expression. Known as one of the finest actresses on the island, Santana has played this role, written for her by Estorino, all over the world for more than ten years -- and now, finally, in Miami. It is no surprise that the theatergoing public demanded a repeat performance, and the festival jurors named Santana and Grettel Trujillo as Best Actresses.
Midway through it occurred to me that the International Monologue Festival was not so much an international festival as a festival celebrating the rich tradition of Cuban theater on the island and in the diaspora. Part of this can be attributed to the fact that many of the non-Cuban companies lacked the quality and dynamic energy that those from Cuba displayed, and thus paled in comparison. An example is Caraquito Morao, written and performed by New York-based actor Pablo Garcia Gomez. Like Santana, Gomez portrayed an actor contemplating his vocation, but his performance was notably flat and the text predictable. By the same token, some of the Cuban performances were a mixed bag as well. Compania Teatral Hubert de Blanck's Un Poco de Aire Frio and Grupo Teatral Rita Montaner's Omiyiero -- Remolino en Las Aguas both seemed to indulge in a permanent state of lamentation that proved to be more tedious than theatrical.

But the overall success of the Cuban performers from Cuba, Brazil, and Spain made me hope for more of the same in next year's festival, with one notable and sorely missed component: the profound resource of Cuban talent that exists right here in Miami. Not one Cuban writer, actor, or director from Miami participated in the festival. Watching Cuban artists from the island embrace their equally talented counterparts from Miami after years of estrangement made me long to see these actors, writers, and directors performing side by side. Sarraín confirmed that the absence of actors from Miami indeed was a weak aspect of the festival: "One of the most disappointing things was that for different reasons [almost] none of the great talents we have here in Miami were able to participate." According to Sarraín the reasons were valid: "Some don't have time for theater because of their work and daily lives. Others were afraid or didn't believe the festival would really happen." He added, however, that several Miami-based actors already have approached him with ideas for next year's festival.

Although the festival has barely ended, Sarraín and other organizers, encouraged by the overwhelmingly positive public response and numerous standing ovations, already are thinking about next year's festival. "Next year I think we are going to expand the festival to works with more than one person, but still keeping a smaller format," says Sarraín. Although the festival will continue to be international, he points out that the notable presence of Cuban actors is related to the demand for Cuban performers, comparing Miami with other regions of the nation: "It's as if we were in Texas; the Mexican participation would have more weight."

Despite the absence of many talented Miami artists, the city was well represented by one artist, actor/writer/director Teo Castellanos, who performed a segment of a work in progress called NE 2nd Ave. The piece, also written by Castellanos, who was born in Puerto Rico and raised in Miami, was a theatrical feast of personas as Castellanos transformed himself into four distinct characters linked by the jitneys that travel up and down NE Second Avenue in downtown Miami. Using songs from Haitian folklore, son, hip-hop, and rap as transitions, Castellanos seemed to effortlessly morph into Jean-Baptiste, a Haitian jitney driver; Tey Tey, a young African-American male struggling through an identity crisis; Lan Quisha, a young African-American woman with hopes of escaping the streets through education; and Juan, a Cuban balsero turned self-proclaimed capitalist.

Castellanos began researching the characters after performing the Jean-Baptiste character for the Miami Light Project's Here and Now Festival in 2000, and that research has paid off. Besides giving a flawless display of the varied accents and diction of his characters, Castellanos uses his body as a prop, capturing the nonverbal language of each character to a tee. He puts his hand on his hip and flips his head with a Lil' Kim tenacity as the defiant Lan Quisha rebuffs a gold-toothed suitor's derogatory rap serenade by saying, "You did not just make up a rhyme undermining my potential."

Michael John Garces, a New York based writer/director/actor who recently directed Eduardo Machado's When the Sea Drowns in the Sand (which received critical acclaim at the prestigious Humana Festival), superbly directed NE 2nd Ave. Garces is debuting the world premiere of two new one-acts called land. and audiovideo with Juggerknot Theatre Company.

Castellanos's piece breaks new ground for Miami theater because it reminds us what it means to be a resident of Miami, not just part of one particular ethnic group living in Miami. Theatergoers will have the opportunity to experience the full-length version of this work, as Castellanos has been selected to be the featured performer at next year's Here and Now Festival in January. Also, owing to numerous petitions from the public, two monologues from the festival, The Dwarf in a Bottle and The Album, will be repeated.
The stage lights have dimmed, but the implications of what took place over those ten days is sure to be far-reaching.

As Rodaz explains, making the transition to Oye Rep opened the doors for the Cuban American Repertory Theatre (CART). "When we founded Oye Rep, the name itself drew a lot of attention from other Hispanic companies, actors, and writers," he says. "I was bombarded with tapes, manuscripts, and ideas -- some of them quite good. I started looking around at other groups like the Puerto Rican Traveling Theater in New York and thought, 'Why couldn't we do that?'"

Besides developing and producing the work of Cuban-American artists, CART's mission is to cultivate new work and original scripts. No other company in Miami is doing that -- Cuban American or otherwise.

The new season opens with Lenin's Omelet, two contemporary one-act plays again by 30-year-old Martinez, who left Cuba on the Mariel boatlift. The Writers Union centers on a meeting between a foreign journalist and two writers (one who has conformed his writing to state-supported rhetoric and another who has been shunned for writing a novel that criticizes the Communist system). The play is humorous, acerbic, and well honed. In the second piece, June 3, 1961 Independent Library, a man decides to take a stand against Castro's government by opening his private library to neighbors. There are unnecessary moments that bog the story down -- a tragic death never quite unraveled, random neighbors scurrying about, and a few unnecessary dialogues. That said, some delightful allusions to Hollywood of the Forties transport us to a prerevolutionary Cuba, then snap us back into the present. The effect is cinematic, dramatic, and unsettling -- and it makes the story much more engaging on a human level.

Lenin's Omelet feels decidedly Cuban American. One is aware of looking at a moment in history (albeit recent and current) through the lens of distance, family, and exile. The plays sometimes leaves us teetering on the edge of the didactic. There are exceptions -- moments of theatricality that transcend the potentially rigid agenda of social realism and cut to the matter more quickly. The cameo moments from Ricky Martinez, for example. In the first play, he shuffles onstage to push trash to one side of the room from another, and the young journalist (Jennifer de Castroverde) applauds his proletariat purposefulness. Later he reads Flaubert in the independent library while trying to hide a pig from his neighbors. One wants more of this theatrical verve and inventiveness. Both plays also leave us with the question of history -- what do dramatizations of repression mean to us here in Miami at this moment in history? It's a valuable question for a Cuban-American theater group to pose.

Rodaz has assembled a strong troupe for CART's debut, and it makes the evening of theater delightful and entertaining. De Castroverde is a standout in both acts but especially notable as the wide-eyed journalist whose twisted, anti-capitalist theories are all the more humorous and believable in the wake of Enron and WorldCom: "The title of my publication is Decadent Response. Our goal is to destroy capitalism by living above our means and spending a lot of money." Oscar Isaac is professional and engaging, and both Ramon Gonzalez-Cuevas and Gonzalo Madurga give moving monologues -- this intergenerational cast works well together.

On the other side of town, in the warehouse venue of Teatro La Ma Teodora's La Magagna, Cuban actress Grettel Trujillo performed El Enano en la Botella, a Spanish-language monologue written by Cuban writer Abilio Estevez and inspired by a close friend who left Cuba in the early Nineties. This richly crafted text is an allegory about a dwarf trapped in a bottle. It is easy to see the bottle as Communist Cuba, although that is just the most obvious of many possible interpretations.

Ingeniously this script embraces the didactic and thereby transcends it. El Enano (the dwarf) periodically scrawls on a chalkboard at center stage. He writes: "The distance between desperation and hope equals the distance between the thing and the archetype" and "The difference between life and death in a bottle is less than the possible difference between desperation and hope." These lofty ideas coupled with Trujillo's highly physical performance and Raul Martin's astute direction made for an intense theatrical experience. Trujillo's range of physical and vocal control is impressive -- a highly trained actress, she gives the existential questions of the play substance with her projection and physicality. Again, La Ma Teodora has produced a work that is as metaphysical as it is metaphorical. La Magagna's run of El Enano has ended, but there's a possibility the show will reopen in Little Havana's Tower Theatre.

At the Miami Light Project, the curtain lowers. At La Magagna, the lights dim. One realizes that not only are different generations of Cuban exiles speaking in different languages and idioms but also that a plethora of voices is being heard from both sides of the Florida Straits -- all here in Miami. If Cuban Americans are exiles of Cuba, artistically and emotionally, Cubans on the island are exiles of Miami. These works celebrate the range of theatrical possibilities that any issue carries. It is also a reminder that in any part of the world, freedom of expression is only as vital as the people who take advantage of it.