TuYo Theatre’s “La Llorona on the Blue Line”, written by Mabelle Reynoso and directed by Maria Patrice Amon, transforms the National City Depot Museum into a haunting vessel for storytelling. Set aboard vintage San Diego trolley cars from the 1920s, 1940s, and 1980s, this immersive production blends myth and memory into a powerful, time-jumping ghost story—where La Llorona doesn’t just wail, she bears witness.

The audience of 20 is guided (and or are they lured?) by the ghostly figure of La Llorona portrayed by Vanessa Flores Cabrera. As audiences physically move from car to car, decades and stories unfold in time-shifting vignettes. Flores Cabrera’s La Llorona never speaks, but her haunting physicality and piercing gaze speak volumes. She drifts from car to car like the restless spirit of justice; she is reimagined here as a force who haunts the complicit.

Each train car stages a distinct, self-contained story rooted in a specific decade but echoing timeless truths. These are people haunted not just by spirits, but by choices, regrets, and the cruelties they’ve endured or enacted. The ensemble works well together, shifting characters and scenes quickly and effectively.

Tash Gomez plays both a young woman wronged in the 1920s and a teenager in the 1940s, carrying the weight of a decision that might reshape her future. Vanessa Duron is a fiercely protective mother confronting a society that didn’t protect her son. Julian Ortega Flores plays opposite roles: a man who is trying to build a life in San Diego and outrun the guilt from his actions in Texas in the 1940s, and a man lost too soon in the AIDS crisis, still mourned by the mother who outlived him.

I always enjoy seeing Nancy Batres perform, and this time is no different as she shifts seamlessly between various roles. Her manic nurse in a spotless white dress is particularly unsettling—equal parts perky and dangerous. She brings charisma, humor, and menace in equal measure, often within a single scene.

Arturo Medina is strong, both as a WWI veteran trying to outrun his ghosts and as a father unable to accept his son’s truth. Paloma Carrillo adds warmth and grit as a protective older sister with no time for anyone’s nonsense. She has a sharp tongue and a sharper pocketknife, always ready to defend her own.

Amon’s direction makes excellent use of the tight quarters, never letting the space feel limited, but instead, uses the space to heighten the tension. Choreography by Tamara Rodriguez is used to excellent effect, especially in the supernatural moments when La Llorona silently exerts her will. Carmen Amon’s costume design captures each era with thoughtful precision, and the technical design elements, including lighting by Stephanie Maalona, sound by Eliza Vedar, props by Samantha Rojales, and scenic design by Jesus Hurtado, create a haunting world that spans three eras.

Kudos also to the stage manager, Vero Marquez, and assistant stage managers Abby Chacón, Victoria Yvette Zepeda, and Ariadna Hernandez, who all work to keep these haunted trains on track.

Reynoso’s script smartly offers brief glimpses into lives forever changed. Some scenes left me wishing for more time, but the brevity feels purposeful, like overheard conversations you can’t forget. History moves quickly, but the pain it leaves behind lingers.

“La Llorona on the Blue Line” is more than a ghost story—it’s an invocation. Vengeance for women, for children wronged, for the betrayed and discarded, does not fade with time, and the rage of the silenced never truly dies. This is a ride worth taking—one that reminds us that the past is not past, and that folklore has teeth when it speaks the truth.