Jorge Lendeborg Jr. and Katherine George Photo by Kevin Berne

Life seems promising for Johaira and Manuel–Manuel owns an auto repair shop and is looking to expand into a second location, and Johaira is a prosecuting attorney assigned to a high-profile sexual assault case. But rough times are ahead.

The challenges Johaira and Manuel face are nothing earth-shattering or melodramatic. It's not as if one is addicted to pills, or is having a secret affair, or has received a devastating medical diagnosis of some sort; rather, these two face the same obstacles so many couples come up against: busy schedules, in-law problems, challenges at wor–…your basic first-world problems. They seem to genuinely love each other, and despite their differences, work hard to understand each other. Johaira gives Manuel feminist books to read, and he seems open to embracing a broader, more enlightened view of women than his cultural background might imply. He is respectful of Johaira and her boundaries, but when her case overwhelms her, and his expansion plans lead to additional stress, and a small tragedy befalls them, the cracks between them begin to expand.

George and Lendeborg deliver solid performances here. Their chemistry feels genuine and intimate, and their physical interactions (overseen by intimacy coordinator Jeunée Simon) meld nicely with their emotional connection. They have a sweet, easy, relaxed way with each other. Johaira's eyes blaze with a ghost pepper spiciness when she's angry, and Manuel's smile is as entrancing as Johaira's impression of it on the night they met.

The set (by Carlos Antonio Aceves) is sadly bland and unappealing, more like something out of a Levitz showroom than a space that truly feels lived in. It's monochromatic and lifeless–so unlike the romantic music that inspired the couple in the first place.

Director Karina Gutiérrez puts the emphasis on the high pressure jobs, cultural challenges, and gender expectations that stand in the way of Manuel's and Johaira's long-term happiness, creating moments of intimacy/conflict (as when Johaira plays against Manuel in a video game) that help us better understand both the joy and travails they experience.

The dialogue is naturalistic and believable, and the tight (90 minutes, no intermission) structure of the piece may mean we miss some of the key moments in Manuel and Johaira's lives (we jump straight from first meeting to wedded cohabitation without seeing a proposal or hearing references to a wedding), but it allows Del Carmen to focus our attention on the moments that lead to the play's somewhat unsatisfying ending. I was rooting for the pair to make it, and Del Carmen does at least leave that door open, but just a crack.

Bees & Honey runs through March 10, 2024, at Marin Theatre Company, 397 Miller Avenue, Mill Valley CA. Performances are Tuesdays-Sundays at 7:30 p.m., with matinees Saturdays and Sundays at 2:00 p.m. Tickets range from $43-$70. For tickets and information, please visit marintheatre.org or call the box office at 415-388-5208.