THEATER REVIEW : Restrained Look at a Sensational Subject

“I was a good mother. . . .”

We want to believe her, especially when this claim is poignantly declared by Marina Gonzalez Palmier. There is nothing obsessive, or calculating, or cruel in the way this actress expresses love for a son.

Even the son wants to believe she was a good mother. His ambivalence and confusion is obvious at Theatre/Theater during “Madre,” particularly because playwright Rene Solivan portrays the tormented Ruben with subtle ambiguity.

Solivan’s “Madre” is a Freudian “Bronx Tale” about a Puerto Rican Oedipal complex gone haywire. Ruben is on trial for “negligence”--his beloved pit bull has killed his mother. On first glance, such a plot sounds maudlin, but Solivan, director Margo Romero and a first-rate ensemble create a fascinating tango of implied incest and restrained sexuality. Violence is always just under the surface--violence that man’s best friend can’t help but obey.

Does Ruben hate his mother? Does he revere her? Has this mother-son relationship crossed the line into taboo territory? Who abused whom? Where does maternal love end and romantic passion begin?

Solivan’s supple script weaves a variety of perspectives into a cubist tapestry. Some scenes occur in the court room, and these unfold in real time like an “L.A. Law” episode. Other scenes are played in a style of magic realism--Ruben’s dead mother and aunt visit and chat about Broadway musicals.

Locations remain vague, time zones fragmented, until gradually we realize that the more significant trial is occurring inside Ruben’s psyche. His anguished Catholic guilt torments him in ways no prison ever could. Ruben must ultimately be his own judge and jury. A court’s verdict won’t absolve Ruben of his personal guilt.

“Madre” is blessed by several gifted performers. Eileen Dietz is compelling as the soap actress in decline, now reduced to alcoholic pick-ups in singles bars. Kerry Noonan’s prosecutor and James Sharpe’s defense attorney are impressive, while Lamar Aguilar’s deceased aunt is a hoot.

But finally “Madre” grows too fragmented and confusing. Abrupt shifts between reality, fantasy and memory gradually conceal more than they reveal. Perhaps that is Solivan’s point, since there is nothing tawdry, pornographic or melodramatic about his restrained treatment of a sensational subject.

“You were my son,” the mother’s ghost confesses. “I was supposed to love you--but I couldn’t. . . .”

Leaving Theatre/Theater, you get the uneasy feeling that “Madre” doesn’t end so much as resumes on an endless loop in Ruben’s head, transforming memory, guilt and desire into a tragic love story.

* “Madre,” Theatre/Theater, 1713 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood. Thursdays-Fridays, 8 p.m., (except Thanksgiving Day). Ends Dec. 17. $12. (213) 913-1425. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.