By SHARON EBERSON
Our Dear Dead Drug Lord is a teen girls’ guide to what not to do when the world seems to be beyond unbearable. Among the “do nots”:
- Do not submit to outlandish suggestions.
- Do not give in to your worst impulses.
- Do not commit causal violence.
- Do not have casual sex.
- Do not get over trauma by summoning notorious cartel leader Pablo Escobar from the grave.
- Oh, and just say no to drugs, too.
What happens among four teens in the 2019 play by Alexis Scheer is the stuff of pubescent histrionics, paranormal activity, and parental nightmares. It would be hysterical if some of it wasn’t so feasible, teetering on the edge of funny shenanigans and deeply discomfiting actions. The barebones production of My Dear Dead Drug Lord, now playing in Braddock, is a twisty, trippy exploration into the lives of four young women who are determined to go dark, as a path into the light. They argue and tease, prod and challenge, fraying their bonds with the casual cruelty often assigned to teenage girls, but ultimately, never breaking them.
The double-take title comes from the provocative idea of The Dead Leaders Club, sanctioned by the girls’ Miami, Florida, private school when their focus was on heroes such as JFK, Gandhi and Martin Luther King. However, the club has come under threat of being expunged (duh) now that they have decided to pivot toward the infamous, the notorious, the Pablo Escobars of the world.
It is telling that the father of club leader Pipe (Gianna Gutierrez), as she explains it, is more concerned with the denial of her freedom to continue the club than with her obsession with a drug kingpin.
These girls are not necessarily misfits. They date, they sleep around, they know that being in a club looks good on college applications. They speak to the politics of the day, too, choosing sides in the 2008 McCain vs. Obama presidential campaign. Racism, homophobia, conservatism, socialism … these girls know what’s up, and are trying to find their place in a divisive world, while dealing with some pretty rough stuff close to home.
The cast, directed through this mad, mad world by Daina Michelle Griffith, embody distinct and relatable characters, believable as a high-school clique. There’s deceptively conservative leader of the pack Pipe (their names were arrived at via Ouija board); nerdy conspiracy theorist Zoom (Lila Grace English); enigmatic new girl Aurora Martinez (Kit); and heart-on-her-sleeve theater kid Ava Benson (Squeeze), who enlists her friends in a dance she has created for the school talent show. It is inspired by her father’s suicide. The dance, as it progresses, is funny, fierce and frightening, a lot like the play itself.
In the teens’ embrace of the supernatural and the dangerous, several movies jump to mind, particularly The Craft and The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With the Sea. The Crucible has a moment as well, when the name John Proctor comes up — we’re told the character was portrayed by a hot dude in the school play.
Our Dear Dead Drug Lord succeeds mostly in the outlandish swings it takes. My problem is the circumstances that have led these girls to choose a villain as a hero, which would seem to fall into the category of untreated PTSD.
A big hint in that direction was the music playing as the play began: “Cherry Bomb,” by The Runaways. You listen to Hello world I’m your wild girl, even before the girls climb into their treehouse hideaway, dressed in private-school miniskirts and polo shirts.
Trying way too hard to be cool is English’s Zoom, age 15, who declares Olivia Benson as her spirit animal. She is happily entrenched in conspiracy theories, particularly about new girl Kit, who hails from Colombia. Zoom presents like a Brady girl, emboldened but naive, and seems to have suffered the least in life.
Movement helps define each of these characters. It is fair to say that English flits, while drama queen Squeeze exhibits a forced flair, heightened by Benson’s dynamic physicality. Gutierrez’s Pipe is often militarily straight-backed, her leadership evident in posture as well as delivery. As Kit, Martinez presents as cagey, often wearing a knowing smile, as if she’s hiding a secret.
Kit’s ability to commit a horrific act without showing an ounce of emotion adds to her air of mystery. Could cruelty be in her blood?
The A-team of set designer Tony Ferrieri and lighting designer Andrew David Ostrowski have created a set of both intimacy and depth, the ultimate girls’ clubhouse, with posters and “No Boys Allowed” signs. It’s the perfect place to call upon the spirit world (using Google as a reference), and try to raise a drug lord from the dead.
There is a surprise appearance that is only hinted at in the barebones marketing for the play, but it is not a huge spoiler to say the goal is staring down real-world traumas and terrors with loud and proud girl power. To accept that as the intention, I first had to accept Our Dear Dead Drug Lord as a guide to “what not to do,” and enjoy the wild ride toward that vaunted destination.
TICKETS AND DETAILS
Barebones productions presents Our Dear Dead Drug Lord at the Braddock Black Box, Bingo O’Malley Stage, 1211 Braddock Ave., Braddock, through June 28, 2026. Braddock Public House by BG Brewing, located inside the theater building, will be open during the run of the show. Tickets: barebonesproductions.com.
Categories: Arts and Ideas, Our Posts, Reviews
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