In the author’s note to Real Women Have Curves, Josefina López reflects on the concept of “illegal aliens,” a phrase that “conjures up in our minds the image of extraterrestrial beings who are not human, who do not bleed when they’re cut, who do not cry when they feel pain, who do not have fears, dreams and hopes. Undocumented people have been used as scapegoats for so many of the problems in the U.S., from drugs and violence, to the economy.” You won’t find this in the Playbill for Real Women Have Curves, the splashy musical that just opened at the James Earl Jones Theatre. It’s from the published script of López’s original play—dated 1992.
Smartly, the show, directed and choreographed by Tony winner Sergio Trujillo (Ain’t Too Proud), retains the original story’s timing and setting: It’s still 1987 in the Boyle Heights neighborhood of Los Angeles—in Mariachi Plaza, judging by the stunning murals re-created by scenic and video designers Arnulfo Maldonado and Hana S. Kim—home to the Garcia Sewing Factory. For now, owner Estela (Florencia Cuenca) is turning out overwrought taffeta confections for big buyers, but she dreams of designing her own dresses. Workers Rosalí (Jennifer Sánchez), Pancha (Carla Jimenez), Flaca (Shelby Acosta), Fulvia (Sandra Valls), Iztel (Aline Mayagoitia), and Garcia matriarch Carmen (comic dynamo Justina Machado) sweat at their sewing stations while battling temperamental machines, broken toilets, and stifling heat—all while living under the constant fear of an immigration raid. Meanwhile, Estela’s sister, Ana (Tatianna Córdoba)—the only citizen in the Garcia family—wants to go to college and become a journalist. “You put the dreams on hold. And be grateful for what’s on the plate,” says Carmen.
If you remember the popular 2002 RWHC film that starred America Ferrera as Ana, you probably remember Ana’s disdain for the “sweatshop”; at one point, she even calls it “dirty work.” In bringing Ana to the stage, the creators, who include librettists Lisa Loomer and Nell Benjamin, have softened her greatly; no, she doesn’t want to work in the factory, but that’s because she has a summer internship at The Eastside Beat. “Que internship? The one that pays nothing?” sniffs Carmen. “So instead of getting paid nothing by strangers you can get paid nothing by your family. You’re welcome.” This Ana is all bright eyes and big dreams, and Córdoba—making a smashing Broadway debut—has us rooting for her, and the Garcias, every step of the way.
[Read Roma Torre’s ★★★★☆ review here.]
We’re cheering for future couturier Estela and her crew as they dive into a make-or-break rush order of 200 dresses—“Make It Work,” as they sing in the bouncy Project Runway–worthy opening number; the playful Latin pop score is by Joy Huerta, of the Grammy-winning sibling duo Jesse & Joy, and Benjamin Velez. (This is one of the spots that their vibrant music compensates for cringey lyrics like “I know it all could fall apart/ But we don’t fall, ’cause we got heart.”) We want Iztel, who just arrived from Guatemala, to find her place and her joy in America. We’re hoping the first date goes well for Ana and Henry (Mason Reeves, a charmer), an endearingly awkward fellow intern modeled on either Seth in Kimberly Akimbo or Justin Cooley as Seth in Kimberly Akimbo. Spoiler: It does, and they get an adorable duet, “Already Know You,” plus a dance break that allows Córdoba to show off some serious dance moves.
The score is undeniably catchy, with three or four definite earworms. But there’s a puzzling excess of aviation imagery: Ana sings “Flying Away” (which sounds like it could come from any musical), while she and Iztel later duet on “If I Were a Bird.” And “Doin’ It Anyway,” a comic seduction song for Henry and Ana, would be better as a scene.
As for “Adios, Andrés”—a funny but genuinely sincere requiem for “Andrés…que viene cada mes” that pops up when Pancha informs Carmen “You got the menopause”—sure, it could easily be cut. But it’s light and fizzy, and it gives all the sewing factory employees a moment to bond over something other than ruffles and thread. It also hits hard with a large cross section of the audience: 40- and 50-something female theatergoers (we’re the ones fanning ourselves with our Playbills). A number that connects like that is a rarity, and RWHC has two—the other being the triumphant title song celebrating cellulite, stretch marks, loose skin, and the other everyday realities that women are taught to hide. Not surprisingly, it routinely earns a mid-show standing ovation—and not just from the women in the house.
Real Women Have Curves opened April 27, 2025, at the James Earl Jones Theatre. Tickets and information: realwomenhavecurvesbroadway.com
