Funny Theater, Not Textbook - David Henry Hwang's Chinglish at Berkeley Repertory Theatre

David Henry Hwang's Chinglish at Berkeley Repertory Theatre (BRT) is generating great buzz and has attracted many new audience from Asian American community.

Last Friday, I attended the performance at BRT with anticipation and a little trepidation, particularly after viewing an introduction trailer on BRT's website (below).  I was resolved to approach it as a play, other than a cultural reference to the home country I left twenty years before.

Chinglish! at Berkeley Rep from Berkeley Repertory Theatre on Vimeo.

BRT informed us on its website that David Henry Hwang "is back with a canny comedy of cross-cultural errors. In Chinglish, an American businessman heads to Asia to score a lucrative contract for his family's firm—but the deal isn't the only thing getting lost in translation when he collides with a Communist minister, a bumbling consultant and a suspiciously sexy bureaucrat. Two-time Obie-winner Leigh Silverman returns to Berkeley Rep to stage the twists in a terrific play she took to Broadway. Love is on the line, and laughter fills the ledger in Chinglish."

After the two-hour long performance, both my expectations were met.  There were some observations I'd like to share.

First, it was a wonderful night at theater, particularly the crisp and funny first act.  The second act was somewhat bogged down by turgid romanticism, lethargic pace and sentimentality.  The marvelous scenery and crisp direction was the highlight of the night.  All the lithe actors all gave their considerably best.  That said, it needed a bold editor and it would have been a much better play if the second half had been at least halved. 

Second, people like me, a native Chinese speaker having broad life experiences in both China and America, were not the targeted audience.  I was actually bogged down by my Chinese knowledge to enjoy the play as well as people who didn't speak Chinese.  For example, when the protagonist tried to learn some Chinese phrases, his rapid-fire mispronunciations were simply meaningless gibberish to me, yet the projected English translation made them amazingly funny and elicited much laughter, which signified to me that those "funny" moments were not genuine but manufactured.

Third, it could be called a farce, a comedy, a romantic drama, a sitcom, etc., but not a cultural reference.  It did not successfully open the window to China.  Rather, it opened the shutter, and revealed a trompe-l'œil, albeit a marvelously funny one.

Fourth, characterization versus caricaturization.  I wholeheartedly agreed that dealing with Chinese people, particularly those opaque, pompous and often corrupt petty officials was an ordeal, tortuous and painful.  However, such difficulties were not as presented by the play.  The play did a good job in creating a sense of helplessness, just not true, if that was important to you.  This, together with the stilted Chinese dialogue, anachronistic clothes and accessories, misrepresentation of political and judicial working order, the styles of the interaction amongst Chinese people themselves confined to different hierarchical orders, demonstrated that the playwright didn't have a firm grasp of current Chinese culture.  I learned that this play would go to Hong Kong, though not mainland China.  I had to wonder if audience in mainland China would feel insulted or not.  I tried not to be bothered by this.  However, watching the play did give me a sense of what it must be like watching The Beverly Hillbillies in West Virginia.

Finally, I would recommend this play, though hardly a must see, with a caveat - see it as an artistic creation, not as reality show.

Mark Rothko and "Red" at Berkeley Repertory Theatre

Last week, I saw the wonderful production of John Logan's award winning play, "Red", at Berkeley Repertory Theatre's, and was deeply impressed and moved by the presentation of the struggle of the great Latvian-American (sometimes referred to as Russian-American) abstract painter Mark Rothko, born Marcus Rothkowitz (Latvia (Dvinsk, [now Daugavpils], Latvia, September 25, 1903 - February 25, 1970, New York City, New York), while interacting, scolding, tutoring his young assistant.  Berkeley Rep's website described the play as such:

At the height of his fame, Mark Rothko struggles in his studio to finish a major series of murals. The brilliant master wrestles with his new apprentice in a battle of wits over a bucket of paint.

The play  was very intense and witty and there were many things to savor.

First, I was most impressed by the philosophy behind Rothko's approach to art.  He insisted on that a person had to be civilized to become an artist.  That mantra was definitely a rebuke to our era when every trivial object, every thoughtless person could style himself as an artist.  His disdain for the pop art scene, though too severe, was not without merit.  Capturing zeitgeist was not unimportant, but true art needs to build beyond the mere reflection.

The depiction of Rothko's struggle - a great man's tussling with mundane life and to secure and preserve his posterity, his relevancy - was also well managed though a bit conveniently constructed.

Another main theme of the play - invented by the playwright - respect but bury the fathers, gave the play an air of a Greek tragedy.  Speaking of tragedy, I was not very convince by the device in the form of the assistant's family tragedy; however, it didn't bother me and both actors, being so immersed in their challenging roles, ensured that even as a device, it was integral facade of the play.

There was a very physical scene, when Rothko and his assistant primed a huge canvas, to the beats of the energetic symphonic music.  Paints spattered everywhere and I felt that at that moment, I was feeling the pulse of a great artist.  It was very gratifying to see his painting process, even though it was only the initial step.  If his energetic action here could be seen as joyous, when he faced more advanced canvas, at times, he was obviously struggling and that was precisely why his works were moving.  He wanted to present some ideas, some visions, instead of doing it for his own pleasure and meditation.

Though the actors were very physically active, the supremacy of the play was the words, which made this play an oasis after a spate of over-produced, hyper-kinetic productions.  It was through words, uttered with great intensity and clarity, that we peeped into the innermost of Rothko.

Living in the San Francisco Bay Area, I have been able to see Rothko's works many times, in Oakland Museum of California, Berkeley Art Museum, and San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA).

Below are a series of pictures I took at SFMOMA, in front of Rothko's "No. 14, 1960", 1960, Oil on Canvas, 114 1/2 in. x 105 5/8 in. (290.83 cm x 268.29 cm).  It is deceptively simply yet rich with sub-contents.  Its palette is delightful.  It's both monumental huge and invitingly intimate, even a child loved it:







Below are a couple of images from this play's Tony-winning New York City run:

Is It Name's Day or Birthday? Depending on If It's Chekhov

Last Friday, I attended a very engaging performance of "Three Sisters".  It was publicized as a new version by Sarah Ruhl, based on a literal translation by Elise Thoron of Anton Chekhov's play.

There has been a trend to stage seminal plays with "new versions".  This concept of new versions often baffled me.  After having attended several performance of such new versions, I realized that some free adaptations were involved, often remove some historical and cultural references not imminently familiar to average American theatergoers.  It often succeeded in making the plots and dialogues easier to follow, in exchange, sacrificing the richness of the details and subtleties.

Ruhls' version was elegant and eloquent - however, a sense of innate melancholy was shortchanged by melodramatic and some Americanized jokes made no sense in Chekhov's imperial Russia.

I am limiting my discussion here to one point.  The first act of the play took place on a special day.  Which day was it? Depending on if you are asking Chekhov or Ruhl.  Chekhov would tell you that it took place in the youngest sister Irina's "name day" while Ruhl told us that it was Irina's birthday.



One can argue that the change was not a big deal.  In a way, it didn't change the trajectory of the plot and pacing, and would not confuse audience who are not familiar with the concept of name day or name's day, it indeed warrants little objection.

However, it affected the characterization of Irina.  She chimed joyously how happy she was on that day since she got up.  Here, if we knew it was her name day, we would have understood that she felt especially blessed by her patron saint on that special day, and there was a larger celebration and meaning to that day - a day of her particular blessing, a second birth, and a connection to holy purpose and mystery.

When we sat in the audience, hearing her chirping about her joy in her birthday, it was hard not to feel narcissistic streak in her, which Chekhov didn't not give to her characteristics.

Another well-known name day party in Russian literature is Tatiana's in Eugene Onegin by Alexandr Pushkin.

Therefore, this small deal not not really too small, and I, once again, champion a strict literal translation.

Majestic "Phèdre" from National Theatre of London

Two days after viewing the telecast of Phèdre from National Theatre of London, I am still in a dazed state by the incredible play and its pitch-perfect performance, except for a less than noble and tragic Theseus, and the occasionally too nimble camera works. Many details replayed in my mind vividly – a meaningful gesture, a well-executed body movement, a most poetic line and its precise and spontaneous delivery, a delightful lighting and new angle of scenery. It was the theater art in the highest order. This play, seen in cinema, was the best movie theater experience of mine in many years. The performance and production was also one of my best theater going experiences, along with an exulted list including King Lear, Savage Land, Desire Under the Elm in Shenyang, China, Hecuba in London, Oresteia (last 10-15 minutes excluded), The Miser, Figaro, Finn in the Underworld, The Secret In The Wings, Argonautika (Berkeley Repertory Theater), Saint Joan (Aurora Theater), Medea, The Tea House, and The Servant to Two Masters (Cal Performances) in Berkeley, California.

The play was not over produced therefore the audience could savor the poetry of Racine, instead of being distracted by extraneous efforts, which often than were unnecessary. As Phèdre, Helen Mirren was simply majestic, in this guilt-ridden, death-seeking pitiable woman/monster. When Phèdre perished, a new goddess was born. I cannot express my gratitude enough to National Theatre for bringing this performance to me, since traveling to London for a seat might not be available is just too cost prohibitive. Many thanks to Peter Gelb, the general manager of Metropolitan Opera, who ushered in these theater-cinema alliances all over the world. Bravo!

There are three more plays from National Theatre for simulcasting in cinemas in this pioneer season. The $25.50 per seat was really paltry offering we can provide to the highest pursuit of human kind – art.

For a cost of $0, there will be a free simulcast performance in the upcoming season – San Francisco Opera is bringing Giuseppe Verdi’s Il Trovatore, in a much-praised new production, to AT&T Park, Saturday, September 19, 2009. The cast includes a quartet of most sought-after singers and will be led by SF Opera’s new music director Nicola Luisotti. If you want to sample a new art form, Il Trovatore is a very good introduction. Do give yourself a treat and sign-up for a seat early.

Berkeley Theatres Struck Gold in Bloody Plays

Recently, two theaters in Berkeley struck gold, bloody red gold.

Berkeley Repertory Theatre's The Lieutenant of Inishmore by Martin McDonagh, directed by Les Waters made a huge splash in the audience and on stage. It was hilarious, funny, sad, scary and downright nauseating. The gallons of theatrical blood employed show after show generated huge talk and collective moan but it was an amazing show. Yet, I felt the set was too realistic to truly feel the impact of the play. If the direction and set design were a little more abstract or exaggerated, it might have worked better; however, as it is, it might be the very conflict between the verisimilitude and absurdity of the plot empowered the play.

Less bloody but even more disturbing due to the intimate setting of Aurora Theatre, August Strindberg's Miss Julie, directed by Mark Jackson, starring Beth Deitchman (Christine), Mark Anderson Phillips (Jean), Lauren Grace (Miss Julie), triumphed in an effort of stylized realism (or naturalism, to please the playwright). It was a huge hit with audience and critics yet it was less than truly satisfying - the valet Jean to the Count was utterly charmless and without unstoppable ambition which were the reasons to capture both Miss Julie and poor Christine. The social constraint on women and lower classes were portrait well, but the sudden turn of Christine to an unpleasant moralistic bible-trotting bully was overdone. It seemed that American productions of such European plays often failed to convey the pathos and resignation if the face of insurmountable social hierarchy, either due to the limitation of the production team of the choice of them, so as to resonate with an audience the creative team believed (rightly or wrongly) would fail to grasp the spirit of such early seminal works unless the connection to the American lifestyle was made explicit. Even so, it was a bloody show, particularly Lauren Grace's Miss Julie. Brava.

"Crime and Punishment" and "Betrayed"

Last week, I attended the performances of "Crime and Punishment" at Berkeley Repertory Theatre and "Betrayed" at Aurora Theatre. The two plays were fascinating and a little frustrating in different ways, though overall both were qualified successes.

Crime and Punishment, based on Fyodor Dostoevsky's seminal novel, was adapted by Marilyn Campbell and Curt Columbus, and directed by Sharon Ott. The feverish degeneration of Raskolonikov's mind was faithfully captured and presented, symbolized by the multi-layered, functional doors, like the cells of protagonist’s brain. The staging itself was a triumph. The adaptation, blessedly devoid of the trap of a cheap thriller, focused tenaciously on the main point of the novel, which was admirable. However, there were a few dead spots, no where more damaging than the gratuitous and embarrassing "questioning the audience" out of blue. It was a desperate act to engage by shaking the shoulders of the audience. The final transformation and denouement of the play was murky and rushed, therefore less than utterly convincing.

The three actors gave decent to great performances except for the speeches and body language mannerisms of Delia MacDougall who portrayed an array of roles, and somehow slightly out of sync in Tyler Pierce's portrayal of Raskolonikov in his emotional outbursts or physical responses to exterior knockings. His flaw was not as damning as in comedy and could be ironed out easily with the run. The other actor J.R. Horne was brilliant as inspector and Sonia's father.

The overall impact was however strong and the non-linear structure served Dostoevsky well, considering the enormous challenge of staging such an internalized story. It was a 90 minutes evening well-spent.

Betrayed, written by New Yorker's staff writer George Packer, depicted the plight of some Iraqis who had participated in re-building Iraq after the country was invaded by the US forces and Sadam Hussein was overthrown. These Iraqis became stigmatized and faced threats on their lives, and indeed some died because of their "collaboration" with the US. The journey from naïvety to the awakening of an idealistic diplomat, Prescott, who tried to help those Iraqis, was almost parallel to that of the playwright, who, as a journalist, helped to drum up the invasion of Iraq. Consider this his own atonement.

One would not and should not compare this play to those by Ibsen, Strindberg or Chekhov. The characters, though vividly written and performed, stubbornly remained types. I believe that was out of the choice. The playwright didn’t want us to dwell on one individual, but rather a class of such people who magnanimously pronounced that they, the helping Iraqis, didn’t really feel betrayed. So, the play should be best described as "Betrayed?"

The evening was preceded by an event hosted by The List: Project to Resettle Iraqi Allies. The List Project was created by Kirk Johnson to help such Iraqis to relocate to safe countries. Prescott seemed based on Kirk Johnson as well. After the show, Johnson was joined by CEO of Ning.com, who had reached out to him to set up a social network to advance his cause, representative from Tides Foundation who helps non-profits to incubate, and a relocated Iraqi engineer who currently works at UC Berkeley. It was a moving experience to see so many people come together to atone for our sins. It was mentioned that PBS had video-recorded the New York production of Betrayed and it is a mandatory viewing for us, the Americans -- it was in our names, that our Army invaded and is still occupying Iraq.