{"id":344715,"date":"2023-09-29T15:19:25","date_gmt":"2023-09-29T19:19:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dctheaterarts.org\/?p=344715"},"modified":"2023-09-29T15:19:25","modified_gmt":"2023-09-29T19:19:25","slug":"king-of-the-yees-offers-metatheatrical-humor-and-sorrow-at-signature-theatre","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dctheaterarts.org\/2023\/09\/29\/king-of-the-yees-offers-metatheatrical-humor-and-sorrow-at-signature-theatre\/","title":{"rendered":"\u2018King of the Yees\u2019 offers metatheatrical humor and sorrow at Signature Theatre"},"content":{"rendered":"

In Charles Yu\u2019s 2020 novel Interior Chinatown<\/em>, a Chinatown neighborhood is configured as a Hollywood set: it\u2019s simply an Orientalist background for the real drama of Black and white actors. Despite this, the Chinese narrator watches his father grow old in this caricature world. The narrator says of his father, \u201cNo one in Chinatown [is] able to separate the past from the present, always seeing in him (and in each other, in yourselves), all of his former incarnations, the characters he\u2019d played in your minds long after the parts had ended.\u201d<\/p>\n

For Chinese millennials, Chinatown continues to be a source of familial love and tension. How can you reconcile your parents living in a place that feels fake and gaudy to you? Why does embracing Asian identity often feel like putting on an outdated costume? Lauren Yee boldly confronts the theatricality of Chinatown\u2014and of Chinese identity itself\u2014in her play King of the Yees<\/em>, now showing in Arlington\u2019s Signature Theatre. While Charles Yu slyly uses a hybrid screenplay-novel form to discuss hybrid Asian American identities, Lauren Yee doubles down on metatheatricality. She uses every fourth-wall-breaking trick in the book to simulate the binary-breaking lives of Asian Americans. The results are dazzling, messy, and alive.<\/p>\n

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Jacob Yeh (Erhu Player) and Ashley D. Nguyen (Lauren) in \u2018King of the Yees.\u2019 Photo by DJ Corey Photography.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The show begins with characters and information that quickly unravel. In a pool of light, actor Sylvia Kwan introduces herself as Lauren Yee, the playwright of the show we\u2019re watching. Kwan says that we\u2019re in the Yee Fung Toy Family Association, an organization in San Francisco\u2019s Chinatown dedicated to immigrants with the last name Yee,<\/em> although the club is quickly becoming \u201cobsolescent\u201d with its aging membership. Actor Jacob Yeh steps in and introduces himself as Larry Yee in a thick Chinese accent. That\u2019s when actor Grant Cheng walks through the audience saying, \u201cI can\u2019t talk right now. I\u2019m in Lauren\u2019s play. Lauren\u2019s play!\u201d in a less-thick Chinese accent. Cheng falls down, the lights go up, and actor Ashley D. Nguyen rushes to the stage yelling \u201cDaddy!\u201d<\/p>\n

You\u2019d be forgiven for thinking that Cheng actually fell down\u2014but no, he\u2019s yet another actor. It turns out, within this production of King of the Yees<\/em>, Ashley D. Nguyen is playing the real <\/em>Lauren Yee, and Grant Cheng is playing the real <\/em>Larry Yee. In this production, Kwan and Yeh are actually stage actors who are workshopping a show within the show. It\u2019s a bait-and-switch for the audience that prepares them for a show full of surprising twists that hold up dizzying mirrors to the playwright and the audience.<\/p>\n

The shifting relationship between Lauren Yee and her father provides the emotional fulcrum of the play. Larry Yee is about to turn 60 and is devoting more and more of his time to both the Yee Family Association and helping the campaign of state Senator Leland Yee. His life revolves around Yees and Chinatown: both things his daughter feels estranged from. Lauren is writing a two-hander play that\u2019s critical of her father, and she is about to make a big move with her white husband. She\u2019s even changed her last name from Yee to Zwillinger\u2014an indication that, unlike her father, she\u2019s willing to let go of the family and neighborhood that has previously defined her.<\/p>\n

Because of its rock-solid emotional core, Yee\u2019s play is free to experiment and spiral into different storylines. The show has an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink sensibility to its themes; Yee tackles the struggles of perfectionism in writers, the burden of representational politics, the whiteness of theater audiences, the dangers of pan-Asian casting, and more.<\/p>\n

King of the Yees<\/em> actually works best when all of its unruly parts don\u2019t <\/em>cohere, when the show\u2019s meta-textual inquiries clash into each other abruptly and absurdly. For example, interstitial conversations between Kwan and Yeh, both playing the actors from the opening scenes, are pitch-perfect satires of self-absorbed actors still facing structural inequities in the theater industry. Yet similar to Yee\u2019s Cambodian Rock Band<\/em><\/a>, there\u2019s an abrupt stylistic shift in the second act\u2014and here, the second act\u2019s tight structure deflates some of the show\u2019s madcap energy.<\/p>\n

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TOP: Jacob Yeh (Shrimp Boy), Ashley D. Nguyen (Lauren), and Nicholas Yenson (Danny Ma); ABOVE: Ashley D. Nguyen (Lauren) and Grant Chang (Larry) in \u2018King of the Yees.\u2019 Photos by Christopher Mueller.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Jennifer Chang\u2019s direction helps ease the stylistic gap between acts, building up extravagant and funny moments within the show\u2019s second half. Scenic designer Tanya Orellana has shifted the Signature\u2019s ARK Theatre to feature a prominent central stage surrounded on three sides by seats; Chang wisely moves the action around the stage in a way that implicates and interrogates audience members.<\/p>\n

Chang\u2019s direction really shines in the beginning, though. The show\u2019s first half-hour (by far its best) unspools at a breathless pace, as more and more issues divide Lauren and Larry Yee. Nguyen grounds the action by being overwhelmed with the show\u2019s rapid-fire tone, and Cheng uncannily resembles Asian men from my own family\u2014those who bring so much charisma and laughter into a room that they can steamroll any opposing thoughts. Kwan, Yeh, and a third scene-stealing actor, Nicholas Yenson, seamlessly transition through many roles to support the two leads, and all form a true communal experience.<\/p>\n

Without giving too much away, the second act revolves around Lauren attempting to reconnect with her father by traveling through a funhouse version of Chinatown. She encounters stylized, exaggerated versions of Chinatown residents: gang members, elders, shopkeepers. Although King of the Yees <\/em>was first produced in 2017, this Signature Theatre production can\u2019t help but self-consciously reference the surreal Asian stories that have dominated cinema recently, especially the Oscar-sweeper Everything Everywhere All at Once<\/em><\/a> and the animated favorite Turning Red<\/em><\/a>. <\/em>There\u2019s been backlash to the immense acclaim of both movies: do Asian women really need to do martial arts to win an Oscar, and does every Chinese coming-of-age story have to feature mystical animals?<\/p>\n

I initially felt hesitation when seeing martial arts and mystical animals pop up in King of the Yees<\/em>. Yes, Asian writers should be able to lovingly mock our own culture, but do we have to do it in this way again<\/em>? But unlike cinema, theater offers a tangible presence, a sense of the real people lurking behind both grotesque and wonderful facades. When I watch Ashley D. Nguyen\u2019s beautiful performance at Signature Theatre, I\u2019m watching an actor playing a playwright trying to connect with her dad, written by a playwright trying to connect with her dad. Maybe there\u2019s no real, essential Lauren Yee hidden in this layering; maybe the real <\/em>Lauren Yee only emerges from this layering. The same could be said of Asian American identity itself. Maybe it\u2019s only when you combine the outdated costumes and former incarnations and theatrical parts and the kitchen sink that a collage forms something true.<\/p>\n

Running Time: Approximately two hours, including one 15-minute intermission.<\/p>\n

King of the Yees<\/strong> <\/em><\/a>plays through October 22, 2023, in the ARK Theatre at Signature Theatre, 4200 Campbell Avenue, Arlington, VA. For tickets ($40\u2013$93), call (703) 820-9771 or purchase\u00a0<\/strong>online<\/strong><\/a>.\u00a0<\/strong>Information about ticket discounts is available\u00a0here.<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

The program for King of the Yees<\/em>\u00a0<\/em>is online\u00a0here.<\/a><\/p>\n

Closed captions are available via the\u00a0GalaPro\u00a0app.<\/a><\/p>\n

COVID Safety:\u00a0<\/strong>Signature will no longer require masks inside the theater for most performances. To accommodate our patrons who need to attend performances where the audience is fully masked, we have scheduled selected performances where masks are required inside the performance spaces. For King of the Yees, <\/em>masks are required on Tuesday, October 17, at 7:30 PM (Discussion Night). \u00a0Signature\u2019s complete COVID Safety Measures can be found here.<\/a><\/p>\n