One mark of a strong festival is its ability import new stories and perspectives from abroad. In its third week, the 25th International Hispanic Theatre Festival presented exciting theater from Uruguay, Mexico and Chile by groups performing in the United States for the first time.

At Carnival Studio Theater of the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts, La Cuarta Colectivo Artístico from Uruguay unleashed Gatomaquia (Catfighting) a dynamic fusion of theater, music, dance and multimedia. Based on an epic poem by Lope de Vega, the most prolific bard of Spain’s golden age of literature, Héctor Manuel Vidal’s adaptation modernizes the verse without losing its rhyme and rhythm. The result is a farcical romp through the age-old themes of love, war, jealousy and vengeance. The performers are feline in their graces and feral in their feuds as Micifuz (Fernando Dianesi) and Marramaquiz (Santiago Sanguinetti) vie for the love of Zapaquilda (Natalia Bolani). Leonor Cavaría’s Micilda slinks from scrappy alley cat to coquette to complete the roguish foursome.

Vidal, who also directs, wisely avoids cat costumes and fake whiskers. Sinewy and playful movements hint at the feline nature without drawing caricatures. The play proposes several ways of telling the story, and the aesthetics are far reaching, but this multitalented cast is up to the task. Video projections in rich primary colors lend an almost comic-strip appeal. Members of the troupe strum harmonies on the guitar and piano. They also beat out percussion on the Peruvian Cajon, bicycle handle bars and water bottles. Gatomaquia careers from interludes of opera and classical ballet to rants in hip hop and rap without ever losing the thread of Vega’s florid verse.

At Prometeo on Miami Dade College’s Wolfson Campus Los Niños Perdidos (The Lost Children), a one-man performance by Esteban Castellanos, thrust audiences into the world of pinche chamacos or “damn kids” as they’re called in Mexico’s streets.

Based on a short story by Mexico’s Francisco Hinojosa, the work unveils a stark urban world from a child’s perspective. Castellanos, a member of the Mexican company Fénix Producciones, takes us on the journey of three children who go from childhood antics to cold-blooded murder. Dressed in tattered clothing on an otherwise empty stage, the multifaceted Castellanos portrays the children plus a legion of street vendors, abusive parents and cruel taxi drivers. His voice shifts quickly, and his body morphs almost effortlessly, giving this disturbing tale fluidity and cohesion.

As with most successful monologues, Castellanos’ stripped-down performance is mesmerizing, its simplicity causing some of the sound effects (a cat in a microwave) to seem a bit contrived and unnecessary. Castellanos is also a gutsy director. His chamaco interacts with the audience, often begging for money in a desperate and, at times, menacing tone. The play’s sociological implications invite this blurring of the lines between theater and reality. Reflecting the universal in the particular, Los Niños Perdidos is a timely reminder of the innumerable, often invisible, children on the other side of a border provoking so much policy, protest and pistol packing.

Like Gatomaquia, Chile’s Tryo Teatro Banda bridges music and theater but to a completely different end. In Pedro De Valdivia, La Gesta Inconclusa (Pedro De Valdivia: The Unfinished Epic), written by Francisco Sánchez and the company and directed by Sebastián Vila, three minstrels (Sánchez, Pablo Obreque, and Luis Alfredo Becerra) tell the story of the early years of Spain’s conquest of Chile. The bards (all accomplished musicians) literally sing, strum and drum their way through the enslavement and decimation of thousands of indigenous people, the greed for gold, the opportunist use of Catholicism to control native populations and De Valdivia’s demise when the indigenous Mapuche people revolt.

Electric and acoustic guitars conspire with Andean instruments such as the zampoña and Peruvian Cajon to create a musical score that reflects drama, comedy and protest. The actors/storytellers, who take turns playing De Valdivia, infuse their performance with a slapstick of exaggerated gestures and facial expressions. The music and vocal sound effects — whistles, gurgles and hissing — create a darkly comic counterpoint to conquest’s brutal history. Valdivia’s modernization of the minstrel tradition is nothing short of inspired.