Lucy Carapetyan and Richie Villafuerte Photo by Michael Brosilow

It's not exactly uplifting, and there are scenes in which she finds herself sleeping in the cold bus stop that forms the story's setting. Majok, though, does not want Darja to be merely a depressing character type: no matter what is going on, she is somehow able to tough it out; though life puts Darja through the wringer, Carapetyan consistently shows her character's resilience and even humor. Darja knows her life is terrible, but she is determined to keep going, and her wry attitude in the face of trauma makes her one of the most interesting characters I've seen in quite a while.

Darja came to the United States with her first husband, Maks (Nate Santana). Maks has a dream of being a jazz musician, but the move from Poland to New Jersey has worn Darja out emotionally, so when Maks sets out for Chicago she stays behind. Santana's soulful take on this character makes it easy to see that this decision is going to affect her in ways she cannot imagine. It physically hurts to watch her make this mistake, especially because it comes in a flashback from a scene that shows her life as it is now: twice divorced, missing her son, desperate just to hang on with the philanderer so she can keep a roof over her head and just maybe find her son.

Richie Villafuerte plays this current lover, Tommy, and it is to his credit that, though his character is selfish and treats Darja badly, he never comes across as evil and we never doubt that he actually does care for her. Tommy has had a string of other women, including Darja's wealthy employer, but he is somehow ... honorable? He may not be husband material in any normal way, but then again she has known worse–in that sleeping-in-the-bus-stop scene, we see that her face has been badly bruised. A young hustler (the very sympathetic Glenn Obrero) finds her and tries to help, but she has been so beaten down and broken by men that she can't even see his sincerity.

All of this should be very, very depressing, and in fact it is–at least in outline. But Majok's focus is on the human beings at the heart of this all-too-familiar scene. Her dialogue is clever, crisp and sharp, often making use of humor as a response to their struggles. The dialogue also subtly illustrates the passage of time: varying levels of broken English show Darja's linguistic growth over the 22 years she has been in the U.S. (Polish language consultant Julie Jachym and dialect coach Elise Kauzlarik have done a wonderful job here; Carapetyan's and Santana's accents are both completely believable.)

Although it would be easy for a play that takes place in such a confined setting to become claustrophobic, director Georgette Verdin makes plenty of choices that keep it moving forward briskly. She is certainly helped by Christopher Kriz's sound design and Eric Watkins' lighting design; these two elements together signal the passage of time at Lindsay Mummert's realistically rendered bus stop.

As Artistic Director Sarah Slight points out in her program note, Majok's play weaves together an immigrant story, a story about motherhood, an examination of the working poor, and a tale of domestic violence, all filtered through the point of view of what she calls "a really badass, funny, practical woman who refuses to relinquish her agency." That complexity alone would make Ironbound worth seeing, but Carapetyan's performance is one for the ages: it ought to be remembered at Jeff Award time.

Ironbound runs through October 27, 2024, at Raven Theatre, 6157 N. Clark St, Chicago IL. For tickets and information, please visit RavenTheatre.com or call (773) 338-2177..