What I liked
The central concept—moments of connection between two people across time—lands with both heart and clarity. The choice to root these encounters in a train station, a liminal space of travel and transition, brilliantly reinforces the show’s themes of passage, both literal and emotional. Plus excellent writing and casting.
What I didn't like
If anything, the transitions between time periods could be slightly tighter to maintain momentum. That said, I would absolutely welcome another 10–15 minutes of material—perhaps a future scene exploring where these two might end up in later life. But that’s only because I didn’t want it to end.
My overall impression
Any Time and Place is a beautifully crafted, emotionally resonant piece of theatre—elegant in its simplicity, powerful in its execution. In just 30 minutes, it manages to take us across decades, borders, and emotional landscapes, using movement, music, and memory to explore the fragility and persistence of love against the backdrop of social change. It’s a gem of a show—one that lingers long after it ends. Azucena Pizaña and Josh Swezey are magnetic—both are triple/quadruple threats, weaving music, movement, and deeply grounded acting into each scene with grace. Whether they’re sharing a fleeting look, a quiet song, or a swirl of dance, the chemistry between them is palpable. You’re never just watching a scene—you’re rooting for them.
What sets this show apart is its emotional precision. It never lectures. Instead, it lets the audience feel the stakes of race, romance, timing, and loss through lived, believable moments. The staging is inventive (including a particularly clever nod to shifting time that I won’t spoil), and the direction keeps the piece flowing with both elegance and urgency.
This is the kind of show you hope to find at a festival: short, sharp, surprising—and it stays with you. Thoughtful, beautifully acted, and deeply human, Any Time and Place reminds us that love doesn’t just happen once. It finds its way across eras, across barriers, and across the room—if we’re open to it.
Don’t miss this one.
SPOILER ALERT – Summary:
The first vignette, set in the 1940s, opens with no dialogue—just a gorgeous, emotionally rich dance that captures instant attraction across racial and cultural lines. Azucena Pizaña and Josh Swezey are stunning here and their physical storytelling draws us into a time when their love, no matter how pure, was doomed by the moment. The second piece, set in the 1950s or early ’60s, adds layers of depth—her family disapproves, he’s off to war (perhaps Korea or Vietnam), and there’s a tender sadness underneath every line. By the final – third – modern-day scene, the stakes have shifted: she is now terrified to return to Mexico City for fear she won’t be allowed back into the U.S., while he, well-meaning but clearly privileged, assumes things will be fine. This moment lands hard—and truthfully—without ever feeling preachy.
