An intriguing premise and promising first act are sabotaged by a ridiculous post-intermission trek to the hereafter that bodes little to no regional theater afterlife for José Rivera’s The Untranslatable Secrets Of Nikki Corona, a Jo Bonney-directed Geffen Playhouse World Premiere.

Anyone who’s suffered the loss of a loved one will understand a grieving Nikki Corona’s (Onahoua Rodriguez) need for solace following her twin sister Abril’s suicide leap off the Brooklyn Bridge, a death Nikki feels she might have prevented if only she’d picked up the phone when she saw her troubled twin’s name on her caller ID and not waited fifteen hours to listen to the cry of desperation that was Abril’s final voicemail.

 Having gone the psychic route to no avail, Nikki sees A Better Orpheus, Inc. as her sole remaining option in her quest for closure, no matter that the one-woman operation’s founder/CEO Marin (Cate Scott Campbell) can offer no guarantee whatsoever that Nikki will get what she pays for.

After all, entrusting the terminally ill Orlando (Ricardo Chavira) to transmit Nikki’s final message to Abril one he’s crossed over to the other side depends entirely on faith, and that’s not something Nikki’s got a lot of these days.

 Not that Orlando hasn’t got problems of his own, and not just the liver cancer that is rapidly eating him alive, but unresolved family issues revolving around a black sheep brother whose decision to ride his Harley with the wind in his hair had Orlando defying his right-wing Argentinean parents by pulling the plug, a decision that still rankles his rosary-sporting, repent-or-be-damned sister Noelle (Zilah Mendoza), the beneficiary of Orlando’s share of the profits should Nikki sign on the dotted line.

 As long as The Untranslatable Secrets Of Nikki Corona stays on this earth, it works, particularly as doomed romance blooms between Orlando and its title character.

 The trouble starts the instant Act Two gets underway and a now hale-and-hearty Orlando finds himself greeted by hillbilly hippie guide Lisandra (Campbell), arms and legs tatted, hair dyed magenta, and sporting an attitude that would do a biker chick proud … and lo and behold we’re in a believe-it-or-else wonderland that is a production designer’s dream but unfortunately not much else.

Imagining a literal afterlife might work for those who believe in pearly gates, harp-strumming angels, and evangelicals catching up with their fellow born-agains.

All others had better stay clear of The Untranslatable Secrets Of Nikki Corona, whose second act is playwright Rivera’s self-indulgent attempt at quirky and quirkier, and since production stills already reveal more than a little, I’ll forgo the usual spoiler alert.

 Act Two has Orlando running into his high school girlfriend (Mendoza), who drinks tears from a bathtub; a parent (Mendoza) whose job is to write letters of apology to the hundreds of thousands of Arabs killed because of the war she supported; and an English ancestor (one of five roles played by Juan Francisco Villa) who is, to quote Dan Akroyd and Steve Martin’s Festrunk Brothers one “wild-and-crazy guy.” (Only a meeting with a grandmother (Mendoza) still haunted by nightmares of her complicity with the military junta during the era of the desaparecidos even comes close to working.)

 Oh, and if you’re expecting any satisfying resolution once Orlando has finally hooked up with Abril in the play’s afterthought of an ending, think again.

Director and cast do the best they can with the material they’ve been given.

 About the only thing worthy of cheers are Myung Hee Cho’s inventively mobile set, Stephanie Kerley Schwartz’s imaginative costumes, Lap Chi Chu’s vibrant lighting, Cricket S. Myer’s magical sound design, and above all Hana S. Kim’s spectacular flights-of-fancy projections.

Rachel Wiegardt-Egel is dramaturg. Ross Jackson is production stage manager and Julie Ann Renfro is assistant stage manager. Casting is by Phyllis Schuringa, CSA.

Whatever prompted the Geffen to gamble on José Rivera’s The Untranslatable Secrets Of Nikki Corona to open a season already sadly devoid of major West Coast/L.A. Premieres like the past twelve months’ absolutely superb Ironbound, Significant Other, Skeleton Crew, and A Funny Thing Happened …, it’s a big-time gamble that goes big-time bust.

Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood. Through October 7. Tuesdays through Fridays at 8:00, Saturdays at 3:00 and 8:00. Sundays at 2:00 and 7:00. Reservations: 310 208-5454
www.geffenplayhouse.com

–Steven Stanley
September 13, 2018
Photos: Darrett Sanders

Tags: Geffen Playhouse, José Rivera, Los Angeles Theater Review