Mexican music sails out the doors as a line of people spills down the wooden porch of El Teatro Campesino in San Jaun Bautista. Two people working the box office pace nervously up and down the line, counting and muttering, “How will we get everyone in?”

It’s opening night for Luis Valdez’s La Carpa de los Rasquachis (The Tent of the Underdogs). Community members have clearly heard about its free debut.

As makeshift chairs and benches are pulled into the theater, latecomers stand outside hoping for a seat. It’s already half an hour past starting time, but here, the show doesn’t go on until everyone gets a seat. We are guided to our newly created seats as festive people holding margaritas and beers settle in.

It quickly becomes clear that La Carpa is both an exuberant musical celebration and a sobering exploration of the immigrant experience. El Teatro’s high wooden ceilings, modest stage and cozy semicircle seating make the space more human and more interactive– as though audience members are expected to be more than spectators. The music emptying into the streets as we waited outside comes from a live band directed by Noe Montoya and Stephanie Woehrmann. The musicians occupy the left-hand corner of the stage, bringing the story of Jesus Pelado to life via a series of Mexican corridos, or traditional ballads, known collectively as “El Corrido de Jesus Pelado Rasquachi” (“The Song of Jesus Pelado Rasquachi”). The opening line sets the scene for what is to come: “Señores, I’m going to sing all about what I’ve suffered since I left Mexico to come to this country.”

Jesus has the rugged good looks of the Marlboro Man, his afternoon shadow accented by a worn-out cowboy hat and a red-and-black-checkered flannel shirt. We follow Jesus, played by Alejandro Nuño, from a small town in Mexico where he leaves behind his family to come to the United States and get rich– his dream is to move home to Mexico with enough money to buy a large ranch. To get to America, Jesus makes his first deal with the Devil, who seems like a fairly likeable fellow at this point. After borrowing money from the Devil, Jesus heads to the border where, of course, he finds Death (played by Christy Sandoval) and the Devil (Adrian Torres) waiting.

Death and the Devil come alive with the help of brilliant costuming by Dorothy Martinez and Melinna Bobadilla, which evokes Oaxacan figurines. Death is a lady skeleton while the Devil wears the traditional suit of a Spanish bullfighter with a red-horned mask. They accompany Jesus throughout the story, providing satire and comic relief both as themselves and disguised as humans.

At the border, Death transforms himself into a labor contractor who slips his noose over Jesus’ head. For the next several years, Jesus toils as a migrant worker. “I picked cherries in Minnesota, guarded dogs in North Dakota,” he says. “In Wisconsin I got to know cucumbers, I picked cotton in Oklahoma, worked the mines in Arizona, and found myself in California.” As he travels the United States in search of work, his dream of buying a ranch becomes more and more elusive. His money seems to disappear as soon as it arrives. His calls home to his mother become less frequent. He meets a woman and starts a family of his own.

As the plot progresses, the action never stops. The corridos accompany the actors in dance sequences where field workers pick strawberries or cut lettuce in rhythmic movement. But La Carpa is not entirely a musical or a dance show; instead, it incorporates sequences of choreographed movement that become something all their own.

With each scene change, the actors don new costumes with amazing speed and facility. Jesus is drenched in sweat as the play progresses, but it seems natural because he is getting older, more tired and more disenchanted. The Devil is an increasingly common companion. Jesus’ wife, played by Bobadilla, finds her husband drunk with another woman and a confrontation ensues. As Jesus raises his hand to his wife, the Devil is nearby, controlling him like a puppet.

La Carpa is essentially a morality play, but it is elevated by a sense of humor and satire that animates the production. Describing the acculturation of his children, Jesus mourns, “All my children grew up in a great confusion: ‘I am not Mexican. I’m Mexican-American.’” The sadness of the corrido is balanced with a slapstick whirlwind of movement. The stage seems to swirl like a merry-go-round as Jesus’ children alternately go to war, get thrown in prison, and marry a white man (who just so happens to be the Devil).

Anglophones be forewarned: La Carpa is mostly in Spanish, but an English translation of the corridos is provided. Not much is lost in translation. Ultimately, La Carpa presents us with a picture of ourselves that goes beyond language: it is both a critique and celebration of Mexican and American culture– and one definitely worth the drive.

La Carpa de los Rasquachis plays Thursday through Sunday until Sept. 21 at El Teatro Campesino, 705 Fourth St., San Juan Bautista. All shows start at 8pm, except Sunday’s 2pm matinee. $6/Thursdays; $12/Friday-Sunday. 623-2444.