The opening moments of “Brownsville Bred” suggest we’re in for a rough evening. Projected on a sheet hung on a clothesline is a Wikipedia entry about the Brownsville section of Brooklyn, followed by film footage of an area blighted by poverty.
But then Elaine Del Valle bursts onto the stage. Recounting her tale of growing up Nuyorican in a predominantly African-American neighborhood — “I wanna be black!” she proclaims — she radiates so much ebullience and charm that you find yourself hopelessly in her thrall. Bounding about a graffiti-covered set and speaking in a squeaky, high-pitched voice, Del Valle’s coming-of-age story hardly breaks new ground, but it’s compelling nonetheless.
Under the skillful direction of Pamela Moller Kareman, she deftly balances horror with comedy. Accounts of being molested at a public swimming pool, encountering a would-be rapist and being beaten as part of a gang initiation are woven into a narrative that contains as much joy as pain.
The funniest segments revolve around the crack epidemic that permeated the neighborhood in the ’80s — she does a priceless impression of a sunken-cheeked addict — and the agony of teenage heartbreak. With her wide eyes and blinding smile, Del Valle looks at least a decade younger than her 40 years, and makes a convincing young girl and teenager, particularly as she peppers her phrases with “Yo!” and breaks into a frenzied, Snoopy-style dance.
By the end of this moving evening, you’re cheering her unstoppable joy and the inner strength it took to earn it.