Richard Perez and Nicholas Ren Rodriguez Photo by Lois Tema

In the first scene, Mando is going over his credit card statement line by line, quizzing Orlando on the various charges his son has made. Mando, a Honduran immigrant who has made a great success for himself in America as the owner of a janitorial service, is proud of his accomplishments, but knows it could all slip away if he doesn't watch the expenses. When Orlando digs at his father for not being a reader, asking "Do you even have a favorite book?," the answer comes back instantly: "My checkbook." But when he reaches an $1100 charge from Ticketmaster, Papa hits the roof. Likely thinking that to ask permission is to seek denial, nearly 16 year old Orlando had taken it upon himself to purchase tickets to an upcoming Madonna show for himself and his parents. His enraged father decides not only will Orlando have to do without the Visa card, he loses his phone, television viewing privileges, and–worst of all–will have to work weekends as a janitor in the family business until the debt is paid off.

These early scenes have a real air of truth about them. We can all likely remember times when we've disappointed our parents through what they deem as reckless behavior, and Perez's portrayal of Mando feels incredibly natural. Every movement and gesture portrays this father as a stern, yet gentle and loving parent. Young Orlando is gay, which doesn't seem to cause any friction at all in his family–at least not until dad catches him kissing another man.

The farther we get into this 90-minute, intermission-less play, the less believable it gets. Orlando's scenes with Sean (Matt Skinner), a popular kid at their school, feel forced. Their odd flirtation–Sean is allegedly straight–has an air of tossed-off erotica that lacks any sense of honest desire between the two. When Orlando asks Sean if he wants to be his "date" for an upcoming Rage Against the Machine concert, it wipes away any of the hard-earned sense of realism we got in the opening scenes. High school sophomores, in my experience, don't have anything close to that level of confidence–especially if they are the nerdy type interacting with a popular jock. Add to that the fact that the play supposedly takes place in 2000, yet pretty much the only nod to that time period is the jewel-toned Apple iBook G3 laptop, Orlando uses for his homework.

In his scenes on the job (where he works very little, despite his father getting good reports), Orlando interacts with a new employee, Rafael (Caleb Andrew Cabrera), who is the cousin of his father's general manager, Mercedes (Monica Rose Slater). peña establishes that Rafael is in the country without documents, but never pays off that bit of foreshadowing. Cabrera plays his role with a lovely sense of understatement, and the character is one of the strongest peña has created here.

On top of the unrealistic plot turns (why, for instance, do we only learn that one of Mando's clients represents 50% of his company's revenues and that Sean is the son of the executive in charge of perhaps renewing their contract until nearly the end of the play?), the primary character, Orlando, is immensely unlikeable. Though he is an immigrant himself, claiming to have only spoken Spanish until the third grade, he goes on at length at how "immigrants come here then don't want to adapt." He also abuses his parents' trust and sasses his father in ways very few fathers would allow, especially immigrant Latino fathers. Orlando also practically throws himself at Sean and Rafael, and playwright peña never once addresses the fact that Orlando is beneath the age of consent and any sexual exploits could land his partner in prison.

I'm not sure who is responsible for the two pieces of physical business that close the play–peña or director Ben Villegas Randle–but neither make any sort of sense in the context of what comes before. On the positive side, Maya Linke's set, composed of tall, lighted acrylic panels, makes good use of the Walker Theatre's cramped confines.

Sadly, How to Make an American Son sputters to an odd conclusion after a most promising start.

How to Make an American Son runs through May 10, 2026, at New Conservatory Theatre Center, Walker Theatre, 25 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco CA. Performances are Wednesdays and Thursdays at 7:30pm, Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00pm and Sundays at 2:00pm. Tickets are $35.50-$72.50. For tickets and information, please visit NCTCSF.org or call 415-861-8972.