Firehouse Theater takes a big swing with a Southwestern tale of hell.

Leonard Madrid’s curious new comedy H-E-Double Crooked Letter now up at Firehouse Theater envisions a portal to hell opening in the cute home of a recently deceased New Mexican abuela (grandmother). From the “hellgate” emerges a demon her three grandchildren must confront while they work out their own family issues and gradually learn not all is what it seems.

Far from some kind of horror-film scenario with a murderous spawn from hell laying waste to the world of the living, this demon arrives in the form of a placid “El Diablo” who’s about as threatening as a window salesman. Played with placid restraint by Paul Zamora, El Diablo sorta wanders in and out of the living room where the action takes place without any seeming conviction as to why he’s there.

Meanwhile, we get to know all about the three cousins. Fatima is the youngest, a high-strung Latina-goth (Giselle Gonzalez) in constantly conflict with the elder Lourdes, Paola Miranda and shambling doofus Jaundee (Kinari). The home has been bequeathed to Lourdes, although it’s not clear what the others are doing there and if they’re meant to be her housemates. But it doesn’t take long before Fatima breaks the cardinal rule of the house and picks up the “creepy doll” on the mantlepiece that opens the hellgate.

Paola Miranda and Kinari in ‘H-E-Double Crooked Letter.’ | Photo: Soular Radiant Photography

Solid production

Co-directed by Debra Gallegos and Beki Pineda, the production benefits tremendously from a gorgeous, adobe-themed set built by Jeff Jesmer (no set designer is credited). A lavish assortment of props designed by Samantha Piel and excellent lighting and sound design by Emily Maddox and Madison Kuebler, respectively, make for a strong space for the action to play out.

Despite strong performances by the actors playing the cousins, the baffling script makes this one a tough one to follow at times. There’s plenty of comic banter back and forth to keep the laughs coming, particularly in the first act. But the absence of any malice on the part of El Diablo makes the stakes relating to hell almost non-existent. In fact, the idea of “going to hell” is treated primarily as a joke in the script. The biggest point of conflict seems to be the fact that they can’t order out for food because if they open the door for the pizza guy the demon will escape (or something like that).

Crooked Letter contains an interesting mix of references ranging from Hispanic culture to ’80s pop music — some of which sounded odd coming from the young characters. There are also some genuinely touching moments as the cousins explore their family connections. But ultimately Madrid’s story wanders before taking a bizarre left turn toward an ending that left me baffled — and unsatisfied.

This one succeeds as a fantastical comedy of sorts if you don’t think too hard about the script making a ton of sense. The repartee between the cousins and the demon is enough to keep things interesting, and the confined space created in the abuela’s home is an intriguing window into another world. One other nice touch is original music by Kinari, adding some neat flourishes throughout the play.