There are any number of choice adjectives that easily apply to Mexodus, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson. The first two adjectives that push roguishly to mind are “brilliant” and “timely.”
Maybe it’s “timely” as well as, with adverb “extremely,” that is most significant at this unsettling moment in our troubled nation. After all, this is a time when Emma Lazarus’s plea, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free” has been ignominiously tossed aside. Correcting that disgrace is the objective of this particular work of art.
In their appealingly persistent 90-minute musical foray, Quijada and Robinson present themselves as themselves, as well as portraying Carlos (Quijada) and Henry (Robinson), two immigrants living between 1828 and 1865.
They identify the lengthy period—and here’s their title—as an era when four to ten thousand slaves escaped to Mexico to survive. For the most part, Carlos and Henry are dramatically viewed when they’ve recrossed the Texas border and are temporarily entangled with each other while attempting not to be caught on the run.
Problems arise when Carlos learns Henry has murdered a man—in self-defense—and is wanted. The situation is complicated by Henry’s being injured while Carlos, who’s sympathetic to his new comrade’s plight, insists Henry and he must go their separate ways.
Their story ended, Nygel and Brian, as the script says, trade these lines—in large part because, they maintain, it’s not prominently reported in today’s homogenized history accounts. Nygel: “This is a story of the Underground Railroad that led South.” Brian: “A story that we will have to pass down by word of mouth.”
While Mexodus is unrelentingly stark, and admirably so, Quijada and Robinson angle their dense piece toward the jubilantly spoken and sung—mostly in English, although there is some Spanish which the performers rightly maintain is easily graspable for non-Spanish speakers.
The songs are, perhaps it goes without saying, tough-minded and often deal with freedom from slavery, the throwing off of shackles, chains. The phrase “have mercy on the proud,” is pointedly repeated throughout. Most prominently, the score is delivered on any number or instruments. Either Quijada or Robinson will play a riff that’s recorded. Then they’ll each play another riff that’s recorded, et cetera, to complete pungent orchestrations that then have both playing live (piano, guitar, you name it)—and singing—on top of it.
The breadth of sound is delicious, never becoming repetitive. (Mikhail Fiksel, Quijada, and Robinson are credited with the orchestrations. Fiksel is credited with the looping and sound design. What a spectacular job he’s done.)
Quijada and Robinson comport themselves on Riw Rakkulchon’s multi-level set, the keyboard recording device on the uppermost level and the multitude of instruments handy all over the place.
When the two first appear, they work the audience up by initiating group cheers and the like, as if commencing a high-decibel Mexican rock concert. So much so that when their production shifts into the somber tale, it’s a moving surprise.
More than that, Quijada and Robinson suddenly reveal themselves not only as singers and masters of their instruments but as adroit actors, further enhancing their purpose. Robinson probably has more acting challenges, but both, as directed by David Mendizábal and choreographed by Tony Thomas, imbue Mexodus with unmissable drama.
It’s well worth noting that Mexodus follows by a year or so Audible Theater’s Dead Outlaw presentation and deserves as much subsequent attention. For instance, a long tour would be in order, including—why not, in these deportation-intense times?—a White House visit.
Mexodus opened September 18, 2025, at the Minetta Lane Theatre and runs through October 18. Tickets and information: mexodusmusical.com
