‘Mexodus’ review: Reenergizing the American musical with hip-hop

The American musical has been searching for a path forward. Broadway has settled into parody mode after suffering some mega collapses. “Mexodus,” a live-looping, hip-hop musical about an enslaved person who seeks sanctuary south of the border, offers encouraging signs of life for the art form.

This two-person musical, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, arrives at Pasadena Playhouse directly from its award-winning off-Broadway run. And it’s hands down the most charming, innovative and warmly embracing new musical I’ve seen in the last year.

“Hamilton” looms large as an influence in this show spun from a lesser known chapter of American history — the story of the Underground Railroad that led south to Mexico. But “Mexodus” is a more intimate and personal experience. Quijada and Robinson invite us into the process of making their musical, constructing the show’s soundscape and musical score in real time by recording musical phrases into a looping station and layering in sound.

Musically and vocally gifted, they wring harmonies and beats from an assortment of instruments, mixing genres and styles with an eloquence that surpasses the exposition sprinkled into the lyrics.

Robinson plays Henry, an enslaved person working on a plantation in Texas who’s wrongly accused of raping his master’s wife. While being beaten within an inch of life, he defends himself and kills his attacker, after which he has no choice but to flee across the border via the treacherous Rio Grande.

Nygel D. Robinson, left, and Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

He barely survives the river journey. In fact, he likely would have died had it not been for Carlos (Quijada), a former army medic, who rescues him from the river and tends to his wounds. Carlos, a farmworker, brings Henry back to the barn, where he lives, and there Henry slowly regains his strength.

As the bond between the two men grows and Henry works the land beside Carlos, their evolving relationship is potently conveyed through the music Quijada and Robinson make together. Hip-hop is their common language, but Robinson is also fluent in blues and spirituals while Quijada speaks forcefully through Mexican folk rhythms.

After a flood, the two men dig their way out of the disaster. Guitars take the place of shovels, as Henry now repays Carlos’ kindness by helping to save the land that Carlos assumes is ravaged.

Nygel D. Robinson in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Quijada and Robinson adopt the masks of their characters as freely as they momentarily set them aside to directly address the audience. We learn a bit about the backgrounds of both actors, as they situate themselves in the American story they are seeking to expand.

“Mexodus” proceeds like a musical parable. The tale of Henry and Carlos is outlined in condensed lyrical strokes. The music fills in what the writing leaves blank. (The libretto structures but doesn’t crowd out nonliterary means of expression.) This is a fictional story, provoked by historical estimates that, from 1829 to 1865, between 4,000 and 10,000 enslaved persons sought freedom in Mexico. But history is being deployed for the present day purpose of alliance-building and democratic renewal in a politically challenging time.

The production, directed by David Mendizábal and choreographed by Tony Thomas, is a joyous affair. Riw Rakkulchon’s ingenious set, suggestive of both a barn and a cabinet of orchestral wonders, allows “Mexodus” to function simultaneously as a suspenseful dramatic yarn and a jam session.

Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Mextly Couzin’s lighting ushers in old-fashioned Broadway pizzazz when needed. Johnny Moreno’s video and projection design artfully augments the production’s imaginative world. And Mikhail Fiksel’s looping systems architecture and sound design, while beyond my technical comprehension, added to the unique magic of a score that is discovering itself in real time.

But the real magic of “Mexodus” is the spiritual kinship between Robinson and Quijada, a bond that is expressed through their dazzling musical virtuosity and their shared commitment to realizing the belated promise of American freedom.

The American musical has been searching for a path forward. Broadway has settled into parody mode after suffering some mega collapses. “Mexodus,” a live-looping, hip-hop musical about an enslaved person who seeks sanctuary south of the border, offers encouraging signs of life for the art form.

This two-person musical, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, arrives at Pasadena Playhouse directly from its award-winning off-Broadway run. And it’s hands down the most charming, innovative and warmly embracing new musical I’ve seen in the last year.

“Hamilton” looms large as an influence in this show spun from a lesser known chapter of American history — the story of the Underground Railroad that led south to Mexico. But “Mexodus” is a more intimate and personal experience. Quijada and Robinson invite us into the process of making their musical, constructing the show’s soundscape and musical score in real time by recording musical phrases into a looping station and layering in sound.

Musically and vocally gifted, they wring harmonies and beats from an assortment of instruments, mixing genres and styles with an eloquence that surpasses the exposition sprinkled into the lyrics.

Robinson plays Henry, an enslaved person working on a plantation in Texas who’s wrongly accused of raping his master’s wife. While being beaten within an inch of life, he defends himself and kills his attacker, after which he has no choice but to flee across the border via the treacherous Rio Grande.

Nygel D. Robinson, left, and Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

He barely survives the river journey. In fact, he likely would have died had it not been for Carlos (Quijada), a former army medic, who rescues him from the river and tends to his wounds. Carlos, a farmworker, brings Henry back to the barn, where he lives, and there Henry slowly regains his strength.

As the bond between the two men grows and Henry works the land beside Carlos, their evolving relationship is potently conveyed through the music Quijada and Robinson make together. Hip-hop is their common language, but Robinson is also fluent in blues and spirituals while Quijada speaks forcefully through Mexican folk rhythms.

After a flood, the two men dig their way out of the disaster. Guitars take the place of shovels, as Henry now repays Carlos’ kindness by helping to save the land that Carlos assumes is ravaged.

Nygel D. Robinson in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Quijada and Robinson adopt the masks of their characters as freely as they momentarily set them aside to directly address the audience. We learn a bit about the backgrounds of both actors, as they situate themselves in the American story they are seeking to expand.

“Mexodus” proceeds like a musical parable. The tale of Henry and Carlos is outlined in condensed lyrical strokes. The music fills in what the writing leaves blank. (The libretto structures but doesn’t crowd out nonliterary means of expression.) This is a fictional story, provoked by historical estimates that, from 1829 to 1865, between 4,000 and 10,000 enslaved persons sought freedom in Mexico. But history is being deployed for the present day purpose of alliance-building and democratic renewal in a politically challenging time.

The production, directed by David Mendizábal and choreographed by Tony Thomas, is a joyous affair. Riw Rakkulchon’s ingenious set, suggestive of both a barn and a cabinet of orchestral wonders, allows “Mexodus” to function simultaneously as a suspenseful dramatic yarn and a jam session.

Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Mextly Couzin’s lighting ushers in old-fashioned Broadway pizzazz when needed. Johnny Moreno’s video and projection design artfully augments the production’s imaginative world. And Mikhail Fiksel’s looping systems architecture and sound design, while beyond my technical comprehension, added to the unique magic of a score that is discovering itself in real time.

But the real magic of “Mexodus” is the spiritual kinship between Robinson and Quijada, a bond that is expressed through their dazzling musical virtuosity and their shared commitment to realizing the belated promise of American freedom.

The American musical has been searching for a path forward. Broadway has settled into parody mode after suffering some mega collapses. “Mexodus,” a live-looping, hip-hop musical about an enslaved person who seeks sanctuary south of the border, offers encouraging signs of life for the art form.

This two-person musical, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, arrives at Pasadena Playhouse directly from its award-winning off-Broadway run. And it’s hands down the most charming, innovative and warmly embracing new musical I’ve seen in the last year.

“Hamilton” looms large as an influence in this show spun from a lesser known chapter of American history — the story of the Underground Railroad that led south to Mexico. But “Mexodus” is a more intimate and personal experience. Quijada and Robinson invite us into the process of making their musical, constructing the show’s soundscape and musical score in real time by recording musical phrases into a looping station and layering in sound.

Musically and vocally gifted, they wring harmonies and beats from an assortment of instruments, mixing genres and styles with an eloquence that surpasses the exposition sprinkled into the lyrics.

Robinson plays Henry, an enslaved person working on a plantation in Texas who’s wrongly accused of raping his master’s wife. While being beaten within an inch of life, he defends himself and kills his attacker, after which he has no choice but to flee across the border via the treacherous Rio Grande.

Nygel D. Robinson, left, and Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

He barely survives the river journey. In fact, he likely would have died had it not been for Carlos (Quijada), a former army medic, who rescues him from the river and tends to his wounds. Carlos, a farmworker, brings Henry back to the barn, where he lives, and there Henry slowly regains his strength.

As the bond between the two men grows and Henry works the land beside Carlos, their evolving relationship is potently conveyed through the music Quijada and Robinson make together. Hip-hop is their common language, but Robinson is also fluent in blues and spirituals while Quijada speaks forcefully through Mexican folk rhythms.

After a flood, the two men dig their way out of the disaster. Guitars take the place of shovels, as Henry now repays Carlos’ kindness by helping to save the land that Carlos assumes is ravaged.

Nygel D. Robinson in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Quijada and Robinson adopt the masks of their characters as freely as they momentarily set them aside to directly address the audience. We learn a bit about the backgrounds of both actors, as they situate themselves in the American story they are seeking to expand.

“Mexodus” proceeds like a musical parable. The tale of Henry and Carlos is outlined in condensed lyrical strokes. The music fills in what the writing leaves blank. (The libretto structures but doesn’t crowd out nonliterary means of expression.) This is a fictional story, provoked by historical estimates that, from 1829 to 1865, between 4,000 and 10,000 enslaved persons sought freedom in Mexico. But history is being deployed for the present day purpose of alliance-building and democratic renewal in a politically challenging time.

The production, directed by David Mendizábal and choreographed by Tony Thomas, is a joyous affair. Riw Rakkulchon’s ingenious set, suggestive of both a barn and a cabinet of orchestral wonders, allows “Mexodus” to function simultaneously as a suspenseful dramatic yarn and a jam session.

Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Mextly Couzin’s lighting ushers in old-fashioned Broadway pizzazz when needed. Johnny Moreno’s video and projection design artfully augments the production’s imaginative world. And Mikhail Fiksel’s looping systems architecture and sound design, while beyond my technical comprehension, added to the unique magic of a score that is discovering itself in real time.

But the real magic of “Mexodus” is the spiritual kinship between Robinson and Quijada, a bond that is expressed through their dazzling musical virtuosity and their shared commitment to realizing the belated promise of American freedom.

The American musical has been searching for a path forward. Broadway has settled into parody mode after suffering some mega collapses. “Mexodus,” a live-looping, hip-hop musical about an enslaved person who seeks sanctuary south of the border, offers encouraging signs of life for the art form.

This two-person musical, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, arrives at Pasadena Playhouse directly from its award-winning off-Broadway run. And it’s hands down the most charming, innovative and warmly embracing new musical I’ve seen in the last year.

“Hamilton” looms large as an influence in this show spun from a lesser known chapter of American history — the story of the Underground Railroad that led south to Mexico. But “Mexodus” is a more intimate and personal experience. Quijada and Robinson invite us into the process of making their musical, constructing the show’s soundscape and musical score in real time by recording musical phrases into a looping station and layering in sound.

Musically and vocally gifted, they wring harmonies and beats from an assortment of instruments, mixing genres and styles with an eloquence that surpasses the exposition sprinkled into the lyrics.

Robinson plays Henry, an enslaved person working on a plantation in Texas who’s wrongly accused of raping his master’s wife. While being beaten within an inch of life, he defends himself and kills his attacker, after which he has no choice but to flee across the border via the treacherous Rio Grande.

Nygel D. Robinson, left, and Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

He barely survives the river journey. In fact, he likely would have died had it not been for Carlos (Quijada), a former army medic, who rescues him from the river and tends to his wounds. Carlos, a farmworker, brings Henry back to the barn, where he lives, and there Henry slowly regains his strength.

As the bond between the two men grows and Henry works the land beside Carlos, their evolving relationship is potently conveyed through the music Quijada and Robinson make together. Hip-hop is their common language, but Robinson is also fluent in blues and spirituals while Quijada speaks forcefully through Mexican folk rhythms.

After a flood, the two men dig their way out of the disaster. Guitars take the place of shovels, as Henry now repays Carlos’ kindness by helping to save the land that Carlos assumes is ravaged.

Nygel D. Robinson in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Quijada and Robinson adopt the masks of their characters as freely as they momentarily set them aside to directly address the audience. We learn a bit about the backgrounds of both actors, as they situate themselves in the American story they are seeking to expand.

“Mexodus” proceeds like a musical parable. The tale of Henry and Carlos is outlined in condensed lyrical strokes. The music fills in what the writing leaves blank. (The libretto structures but doesn’t crowd out nonliterary means of expression.) This is a fictional story, provoked by historical estimates that, from 1829 to 1865, between 4,000 and 10,000 enslaved persons sought freedom in Mexico. But history is being deployed for the present day purpose of alliance-building and democratic renewal in a politically challenging time.

The production, directed by David Mendizábal and choreographed by Tony Thomas, is a joyous affair. Riw Rakkulchon’s ingenious set, suggestive of both a barn and a cabinet of orchestral wonders, allows “Mexodus” to function simultaneously as a suspenseful dramatic yarn and a jam session.

Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Mextly Couzin’s lighting ushers in old-fashioned Broadway pizzazz when needed. Johnny Moreno’s video and projection design artfully augments the production’s imaginative world. And Mikhail Fiksel’s looping systems architecture and sound design, while beyond my technical comprehension, added to the unique magic of a score that is discovering itself in real time.

But the real magic of “Mexodus” is the spiritual kinship between Robinson and Quijada, a bond that is expressed through their dazzling musical virtuosity and their shared commitment to realizing the belated promise of American freedom.

The American musical has been searching for a path forward. Broadway has settled into parody mode after suffering some mega collapses. “Mexodus,” a live-looping, hip-hop musical about an enslaved person who seeks sanctuary south of the border, offers encouraging signs of life for the art form.

This two-person musical, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, arrives at Pasadena Playhouse directly from its award-winning off-Broadway run. And it’s hands down the most charming, innovative and warmly embracing new musical I’ve seen in the last year.

“Hamilton” looms large as an influence in this show spun from a lesser known chapter of American history — the story of the Underground Railroad that led south to Mexico. But “Mexodus” is a more intimate and personal experience. Quijada and Robinson invite us into the process of making their musical, constructing the show’s soundscape and musical score in real time by recording musical phrases into a looping station and layering in sound.

Musically and vocally gifted, they wring harmonies and beats from an assortment of instruments, mixing genres and styles with an eloquence that surpasses the exposition sprinkled into the lyrics.

Robinson plays Henry, an enslaved person working on a plantation in Texas who’s wrongly accused of raping his master’s wife. While being beaten within an inch of life, he defends himself and kills his attacker, after which he has no choice but to flee across the border via the treacherous Rio Grande.

Nygel D. Robinson, left, and Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

He barely survives the river journey. In fact, he likely would have died had it not been for Carlos (Quijada), a former army medic, who rescues him from the river and tends to his wounds. Carlos, a farmworker, brings Henry back to the barn, where he lives, and there Henry slowly regains his strength.

As the bond between the two men grows and Henry works the land beside Carlos, their evolving relationship is potently conveyed through the music Quijada and Robinson make together. Hip-hop is their common language, but Robinson is also fluent in blues and spirituals while Quijada speaks forcefully through Mexican folk rhythms.

After a flood, the two men dig their way out of the disaster. Guitars take the place of shovels, as Henry now repays Carlos’ kindness by helping to save the land that Carlos assumes is ravaged.

Nygel D. Robinson in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Quijada and Robinson adopt the masks of their characters as freely as they momentarily set them aside to directly address the audience. We learn a bit about the backgrounds of both actors, as they situate themselves in the American story they are seeking to expand.

“Mexodus” proceeds like a musical parable. The tale of Henry and Carlos is outlined in condensed lyrical strokes. The music fills in what the writing leaves blank. (The libretto structures but doesn’t crowd out nonliterary means of expression.) This is a fictional story, provoked by historical estimates that, from 1829 to 1865, between 4,000 and 10,000 enslaved persons sought freedom in Mexico. But history is being deployed for the present day purpose of alliance-building and democratic renewal in a politically challenging time.

The production, directed by David Mendizábal and choreographed by Tony Thomas, is a joyous affair. Riw Rakkulchon’s ingenious set, suggestive of both a barn and a cabinet of orchestral wonders, allows “Mexodus” to function simultaneously as a suspenseful dramatic yarn and a jam session.

Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Mextly Couzin’s lighting ushers in old-fashioned Broadway pizzazz when needed. Johnny Moreno’s video and projection design artfully augments the production’s imaginative world. And Mikhail Fiksel’s looping systems architecture and sound design, while beyond my technical comprehension, added to the unique magic of a score that is discovering itself in real time.

But the real magic of “Mexodus” is the spiritual kinship between Robinson and Quijada, a bond that is expressed through their dazzling musical virtuosity and their shared commitment to realizing the belated promise of American freedom.

The American musical has been searching for a path forward. Broadway has settled into parody mode after suffering some mega collapses. “Mexodus,” a live-looping, hip-hop musical about an enslaved person who seeks sanctuary south of the border, offers encouraging signs of life for the art form.

This two-person musical, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, arrives at Pasadena Playhouse directly from its award-winning off-Broadway run. And it’s hands down the most charming, innovative and warmly embracing new musical I’ve seen in the last year.

“Hamilton” looms large as an influence in this show spun from a lesser known chapter of American history — the story of the Underground Railroad that led south to Mexico. But “Mexodus” is a more intimate and personal experience. Quijada and Robinson invite us into the process of making their musical, constructing the show’s soundscape and musical score in real time by recording musical phrases into a looping station and layering in sound.

Musically and vocally gifted, they wring harmonies and beats from an assortment of instruments, mixing genres and styles with an eloquence that surpasses the exposition sprinkled into the lyrics.

Robinson plays Henry, an enslaved person working on a plantation in Texas who’s wrongly accused of raping his master’s wife. While being beaten within an inch of life, he defends himself and kills his attacker, after which he has no choice but to flee across the border via the treacherous Rio Grande.

Nygel D. Robinson, left, and Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

He barely survives the river journey. In fact, he likely would have died had it not been for Carlos (Quijada), a former army medic, who rescues him from the river and tends to his wounds. Carlos, a farmworker, brings Henry back to the barn, where he lives, and there Henry slowly regains his strength.

As the bond between the two men grows and Henry works the land beside Carlos, their evolving relationship is potently conveyed through the music Quijada and Robinson make together. Hip-hop is their common language, but Robinson is also fluent in blues and spirituals while Quijada speaks forcefully through Mexican folk rhythms.

After a flood, the two men dig their way out of the disaster. Guitars take the place of shovels, as Henry now repays Carlos’ kindness by helping to save the land that Carlos assumes is ravaged.

Nygel D. Robinson in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Quijada and Robinson adopt the masks of their characters as freely as they momentarily set them aside to directly address the audience. We learn a bit about the backgrounds of both actors, as they situate themselves in the American story they are seeking to expand.

“Mexodus” proceeds like a musical parable. The tale of Henry and Carlos is outlined in condensed lyrical strokes. The music fills in what the writing leaves blank. (The libretto structures but doesn’t crowd out nonliterary means of expression.) This is a fictional story, provoked by historical estimates that, from 1829 to 1865, between 4,000 and 10,000 enslaved persons sought freedom in Mexico. But history is being deployed for the present day purpose of alliance-building and democratic renewal in a politically challenging time.

The production, directed by David Mendizábal and choreographed by Tony Thomas, is a joyous affair. Riw Rakkulchon’s ingenious set, suggestive of both a barn and a cabinet of orchestral wonders, allows “Mexodus” to function simultaneously as a suspenseful dramatic yarn and a jam session.

Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Mextly Couzin’s lighting ushers in old-fashioned Broadway pizzazz when needed. Johnny Moreno’s video and projection design artfully augments the production’s imaginative world. And Mikhail Fiksel’s looping systems architecture and sound design, while beyond my technical comprehension, added to the unique magic of a score that is discovering itself in real time.

But the real magic of “Mexodus” is the spiritual kinship between Robinson and Quijada, a bond that is expressed through their dazzling musical virtuosity and their shared commitment to realizing the belated promise of American freedom.

The American musical has been searching for a path forward. Broadway has settled into parody mode after suffering some mega collapses. “Mexodus,” a live-looping, hip-hop musical about an enslaved person who seeks sanctuary south of the border, offers encouraging signs of life for the art form.

This two-person musical, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, arrives at Pasadena Playhouse directly from its award-winning off-Broadway run. And it’s hands down the most charming, innovative and warmly embracing new musical I’ve seen in the last year.

“Hamilton” looms large as an influence in this show spun from a lesser known chapter of American history — the story of the Underground Railroad that led south to Mexico. But “Mexodus” is a more intimate and personal experience. Quijada and Robinson invite us into the process of making their musical, constructing the show’s soundscape and musical score in real time by recording musical phrases into a looping station and layering in sound.

Musically and vocally gifted, they wring harmonies and beats from an assortment of instruments, mixing genres and styles with an eloquence that surpasses the exposition sprinkled into the lyrics.

Robinson plays Henry, an enslaved person working on a plantation in Texas who’s wrongly accused of raping his master’s wife. While being beaten within an inch of life, he defends himself and kills his attacker, after which he has no choice but to flee across the border via the treacherous Rio Grande.

Nygel D. Robinson, left, and Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

He barely survives the river journey. In fact, he likely would have died had it not been for Carlos (Quijada), a former army medic, who rescues him from the river and tends to his wounds. Carlos, a farmworker, brings Henry back to the barn, where he lives, and there Henry slowly regains his strength.

As the bond between the two men grows and Henry works the land beside Carlos, their evolving relationship is potently conveyed through the music Quijada and Robinson make together. Hip-hop is their common language, but Robinson is also fluent in blues and spirituals while Quijada speaks forcefully through Mexican folk rhythms.

After a flood, the two men dig their way out of the disaster. Guitars take the place of shovels, as Henry now repays Carlos’ kindness by helping to save the land that Carlos assumes is ravaged.

Nygel D. Robinson in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Quijada and Robinson adopt the masks of their characters as freely as they momentarily set them aside to directly address the audience. We learn a bit about the backgrounds of both actors, as they situate themselves in the American story they are seeking to expand.

“Mexodus” proceeds like a musical parable. The tale of Henry and Carlos is outlined in condensed lyrical strokes. The music fills in what the writing leaves blank. (The libretto structures but doesn’t crowd out nonliterary means of expression.) This is a fictional story, provoked by historical estimates that, from 1829 to 1865, between 4,000 and 10,000 enslaved persons sought freedom in Mexico. But history is being deployed for the present day purpose of alliance-building and democratic renewal in a politically challenging time.

The production, directed by David Mendizábal and choreographed by Tony Thomas, is a joyous affair. Riw Rakkulchon’s ingenious set, suggestive of both a barn and a cabinet of orchestral wonders, allows “Mexodus” to function simultaneously as a suspenseful dramatic yarn and a jam session.

Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Mextly Couzin’s lighting ushers in old-fashioned Broadway pizzazz when needed. Johnny Moreno’s video and projection design artfully augments the production’s imaginative world. And Mikhail Fiksel’s looping systems architecture and sound design, while beyond my technical comprehension, added to the unique magic of a score that is discovering itself in real time.

But the real magic of “Mexodus” is the spiritual kinship between Robinson and Quijada, a bond that is expressed through their dazzling musical virtuosity and their shared commitment to realizing the belated promise of American freedom.

The American musical has been searching for a path forward. Broadway has settled into parody mode after suffering some mega collapses. “Mexodus,” a live-looping, hip-hop musical about an enslaved person who seeks sanctuary south of the border, offers encouraging signs of life for the art form.

This two-person musical, written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, arrives at Pasadena Playhouse directly from its award-winning off-Broadway run. And it’s hands down the most charming, innovative and warmly embracing new musical I’ve seen in the last year.

“Hamilton” looms large as an influence in this show spun from a lesser known chapter of American history — the story of the Underground Railroad that led south to Mexico. But “Mexodus” is a more intimate and personal experience. Quijada and Robinson invite us into the process of making their musical, constructing the show’s soundscape and musical score in real time by recording musical phrases into a looping station and layering in sound.

Musically and vocally gifted, they wring harmonies and beats from an assortment of instruments, mixing genres and styles with an eloquence that surpasses the exposition sprinkled into the lyrics.

Robinson plays Henry, an enslaved person working on a plantation in Texas who’s wrongly accused of raping his master’s wife. While being beaten within an inch of life, he defends himself and kills his attacker, after which he has no choice but to flee across the border via the treacherous Rio Grande.

Nygel D. Robinson, left, and Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

He barely survives the river journey. In fact, he likely would have died had it not been for Carlos (Quijada), a former army medic, who rescues him from the river and tends to his wounds. Carlos, a farmworker, brings Henry back to the barn, where he lives, and there Henry slowly regains his strength.

As the bond between the two men grows and Henry works the land beside Carlos, their evolving relationship is potently conveyed through the music Quijada and Robinson make together. Hip-hop is their common language, but Robinson is also fluent in blues and spirituals while Quijada speaks forcefully through Mexican folk rhythms.

After a flood, the two men dig their way out of the disaster. Guitars take the place of shovels, as Henry now repays Carlos’ kindness by helping to save the land that Carlos assumes is ravaged.

Nygel D. Robinson in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Quijada and Robinson adopt the masks of their characters as freely as they momentarily set them aside to directly address the audience. We learn a bit about the backgrounds of both actors, as they situate themselves in the American story they are seeking to expand.

“Mexodus” proceeds like a musical parable. The tale of Henry and Carlos is outlined in condensed lyrical strokes. The music fills in what the writing leaves blank. (The libretto structures but doesn’t crowd out nonliterary means of expression.) This is a fictional story, provoked by historical estimates that, from 1829 to 1865, between 4,000 and 10,000 enslaved persons sought freedom in Mexico. But history is being deployed for the present day purpose of alliance-building and democratic renewal in a politically challenging time.

The production, directed by David Mendizábal and choreographed by Tony Thomas, is a joyous affair. Riw Rakkulchon’s ingenious set, suggestive of both a barn and a cabinet of orchestral wonders, allows “Mexodus” to function simultaneously as a suspenseful dramatic yarn and a jam session.

Brian Quijada in “Mexodus” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Mextly Couzin’s lighting ushers in old-fashioned Broadway pizzazz when needed. Johnny Moreno’s video and projection design artfully augments the production’s imaginative world. And Mikhail Fiksel’s looping systems architecture and sound design, while beyond my technical comprehension, added to the unique magic of a score that is discovering itself in real time.

But the real magic of “Mexodus” is the spiritual kinship between Robinson and Quijada, a bond that is expressed through their dazzling musical virtuosity and their shared commitment to realizing the belated promise of American freedom.