“The one-liners come fast and furiously in this rollicking sendup as playwright Lauren Lee sets out to mock all major stereotypes. The whole effect is very funny, but below the humor are poignant issues related to identity… Director Desdemona Chiang’s staging and pacing are witty. There are entrances and exits that surprise and delight….”   –Seattle Times

CHING CHONG CHINAMAN

by Lauren D. Yee
directed by Desdemona Chiang

Mar 26 – Apr 24, 2010
SIS Productions, Seattle, WA

Scenic Design: Deanna Zibello
Lighting Design: Andrew D. Smith
Costume Design: Kathleen Hegarty

PRESS:

• Seattle Times: SIS Productions sends up stereotypes, American dream
• Seattle Weekly: Opening Nights: Ching Chong Chinaman
• Seattle Gay News: Satiric Chinaman carries universal message
• Northwest Asian Weekly: “Ching Chong Chinaman”: The unexpected name in Asian American identity

What a family! Dad is a golf addict. Mom is mostly vacuous and inept. Hard-charging daughter, Desdemona, is neurotic about her application to Princeton, and son, Upton, is a champion electronic gamesman. It’s an all-American, upwardly mobile family, only this family is Chinese, and the whole play turns almost every cliché about Asian-American culture upside down, and, along the way, offers a satirical take on contemporary American society.

“Ching Chong Chinaman” is currently playing in New York to good reviews. It has also been seen in Minneapolis and Berkeley. This is its first Northwest production.

The one-liners come fast and furiously in this rollicking sendup as playwright Lauren Lee sets out to mock all major stereotypes. The whole effect is very funny, but below the humor are poignant issues related to identity.

The Wong family has abandoned their heritage. For instance, they don’t eat rice, can’t use chopsticks and have little Chinese culture in their lives. Yet they live in a society where you can’t escape skin color or eye shape.

The family’s life is thrown into disarray when Upton comes home with a Chinese indentured servant. He’s there to do Upton’s homework, and then Desdemona’s calculus. They don’t bother to find out if he speaks English, so order him about with sharp blasts on a whistle.

Director Desdemona Chiang’s staging and pacing are witty. There are entrances and exits that surprise and delight. The acting is uniformly good. The 1960s sitcom music is a brilliant touch, and the strains of “Tara’s Theme” say it all at the end of the first act.

The play, while asking us to take another look at the theory of the melting pot, makes a good case for accepting ourselves as we are rather than seeking another identity.

At times it is a little too glib, and there are too many plot twists and too much crammed in. But, overall this is a smart and funny work designed for all Americans.

“Even the greatest panda can fall from the trees.” This is not an auspicious fortune to find in your cookie, especially if you’re an ambitious, overwrought, all-destination-no-journey kind of high-school senior obsessed with going to Princeton. Oh, and you’re Chinese-American, which makes getting in, like, 50 times more impossible. But an even worse handicap is that your family is totally assimilated in Palo Alto and you’ve never suffered enough to seem like an interesting person on your admission essays.

Welcome to the predicament of Desdemona Wong (Elizabeth Daruthayan). She’s the spiny heroine of this strenuously un-PC comedy by Lauren Yee, an ’07 Yale grad who wrote it as her senior thesis, and who seems to think conflict should abrade every moment and that every stereotype needs to be boldly embraced (e.g., “Open eyes wide wide wide” for photos). The production here is from SiS, best known for their Sex in Seattle series about Asian-American dating.

The “Chinaman” of the title, played by the wonderfully natural Jose Abaoag, is an indentured servant named something like “Jaing-Jong” who appears at the kitchen table one morning. Since nobody in the family is sure how the name is spelled, they just call him J. Turns out Desdemona’s brother, so Americanized his first two names are Upton Sinclair, has imported J to do homework for him while he trains for the World of Warcraft championship in South Korea. As with all foreign visitors in theatrical settings, J’s arrival precipitates change in the lives of his hosts, especially Des’ mother Grace (Kathy Hsieh), whose forced merriness in Act 1 is almost unbearably annoying. This is change for the better, too. As the superficially happy family starts to crumble, the characters get considerably more interesting and likeable.

Most of the play is a gorp of short, eclectic scenes seemingly crafted to allow for commercial breaks and/or avoid big buildups of tension. When the family orders Chinese takeout in honor of their guest, their creative but inept attempts to operate chopsticks get big laughs; then Grace offers forks, three hands go up, and…scene. Some of the sitcommy tropes are a hoot: As each family member develops specific “uses” for J, they vie for the whistle he answers to like teenagers angling for the family car keys. Meanwhile clueless dad Ed (Stan Asis) thinks every Asian, including Kristi Yamaguchi, is Chinese. Dozens of themes pass by like billboards, including ethnicity, genealogy, life purpose, outsourcing, international labor economics, the arts, higher education, parallel reality games, etc.; although none are explored in any depth, they provide the illusion of a mental workout.

Whereas a sort of Brownian-motion frenzy dominates the overstuffed first act, the second feels almost like a different play. College application sent, the family visits what they now think is the land of their ancestors, and Desdemona is partially subdued on Coronas. For the first time, this shrill brat has the time (and permission from director Desdemona Chiang) to breathe—indeed, to wallow—in some newly discovered personal realities with much bigger implications than Princeton. Watching Daruthayan’s lonely, anguished efforts to remove a reviled bracelet almost reminded me of Oedipus gouging out his eyes. Assets and tragedies are sometimes found in the same box.

It’s a play with a name that shall not be named – that is, if you are of Chinese descent and aware of the singsong aspersions cast your way by the phrase “ching chong Chinaman.” SiS Productions thought they would get barraged with criticism for even choosing a play with that name, but they felt strongly that Lauren Yee’s message and her satire were worth producing. Yee chose to write about a family that is so strongly associated with “Americanism” that they don’t know how to be Chinese at all.

This funny, sharply pointed satire stars Stan Asis as dad Ed, Kathy Hsieh as mom Grace, Elizabeth Daruthayan as daughter Desdemona, and Christian T. Ver as son Upton. They are so assimilated that they have no clue how to eat with chopsticks, have no idea where their family came from, and look with suspicion at “those Chinese” people. Upton is obsessed with winning a computer gaming contest and daughter Desdemona is desperate to win a spot at Princeton. Upton wants to devote more hours to game playing, so he imports an indentured servant from China to do his homework. The servant, J (his Chinese name sounds like “ching chong,” but no one can say it correctly in the play), played by Jose Abaoag, wants to become an internationally known dancer, and isn’t very good at math!

Somehow, Upton gets J adopted into his household by bamboozling his clueless parents. J begins to be introduced into American life, including finding a way to send an audition tape to “America’s Next Top Dancing Star.” His unlikely American supporter is Grace, who begins a torrid affair with him as she rediscovers her passionate love of tap-dance. While that sounds like a terrible betrayal of Ed, in this fanciful situation, it represents Grace’s need to get out of the “wife” trap she has boxed herself into, rather than any hatred of Ed. Ed’s job is, as he describes, “to make everyone happy. That’s the job of the dad.” He undertakes that mission with vigor, but clearly isn’t up to that challenge.

A multi-character player, Kay Nahm, is a particularly funny and adept actor who assumes an ethnic Chinese character, a Korean gamer fan, a poor Korean orphan supported by American charity, and others. Look forward to seeing more of her in major roles in the near future.

Lauren Yee was reluctant, she says, to write an “ethnic” play, thinking it wouldn’t get looked at by mainstream theaters if it was an all-ethnic cast. She faces a daily struggle as an Asian-American writer, and wonders how much of that should seep into her writing. She wants an audience to feel that the theme is universal. In reflection, the play mainly shows how each individual dreams of big achievements and takes his/her family connections for granted. Then Desdemona finds out that not only is she adopted, but she was born in Korea, not China – and it turns out that Upton is also adopted and was possibly born Japanese (they aren’t sure).

When Desdemona achieves her dream of Princeton and Upton achieves winning the game tournament, they have no one to share the good news with besides this family they have neglected. That’s a pretty universal sentiment.

Well-directed by Desdemona Chiang and with great assistance from the crew – particularly from sound engineer Roger Tang – this is a fun evening, with some food for thought to chew on.

First thing I thought about before seeing “Ching Chong Chinaman” was, ‘great, another Asian American satire,’ “Joy Luck Club” references and all.

I was actually joking about the “Joy Luck Club” reference, but it was there. It didn’t stop there.

“Ching Chong Chinaman” pulled out every stereotype in the book, from the model minority to fortune cookies and rice cookers. But hey, what can you expect from a play called, “Ching Chong Chinaman”?

The play is about the Wong family, an Americanized Chinese family living in Palo Alto, Calif., and their Chinese indentured servant, J (called J because they never figure out how to pronounce his real name, Ching Chong). The father, Ed, loves to play golf and tries, rather unsuccessfully, to bring his family together.

Desdemona, the daughter, is the model minority looking to get accepted to Princeton. Upton, the son, is an avid World of Warcraft player, who hopes to be admitted to the ultimate World of Warcraft tournament in Seoul. J, the Chinese indentured servant, speaks only Chinese and is unable to communicate with the Wong family.

Despite having very few lines, Jose Abaoag (who plays J), ga­ve a stunning performance, providing comic relief through his facial expressions alone.

Other small but notable characters are played by Kay Nahm. Nahm’s numerous roles within the play include the ubiquitous Chinese woman in Desdemona’s conscience, an orphan, J’s mother, a doctor, a Korean schoolgirl, and a Princeton alumnus. I was tempted to dismiss this play as yet another run-of-the-mill satire with bland Asian stereotypes, but Nahm’s precise comic delivery with her characters kept me laughing and anticipating.

Half-way through the play, things began to turn, and I found myself embracing the ludicrousness of it all: kitchen tap dancing, quincinẽras, and yaks! More importantly, the characters develop into relatable and multifaceted figures as they come closer to achieving their respective goals. The characters soon find that there was much more to their desires than their material goals.

The play departs from mere stereotypes to provide insight on the profound role our ethnicity has in shaping our identity. In the process of pursuing their own respective goals, the Wong family’s ties begin to unravel.

Playwright Lauren Yee was very adamant about keeping the controversial name, “Ching Chong Chinaman,” when concerns were raised by SIS Productions on whether the name would fare well in a politically correct city like Seattle. Yee’s intention was to have a play that brought common stereotypes of both whites and Asians to the forefront and present Asian American issues in a new, twisted way. A production of the play is also currently running in New York’s West End Theatre.

This play surprised me in the way it weaves insight with absurdity. When I caught myself chuckling during a sad moment in the play, I thought about the way Asian plays have departed from a once solemn reflection of our identity. This play reveals a humorous acknowledgment of all its contradictions. This seemingly derogatory title transforms it into a humorous exploration of Asian American identity. “Ching Chong Chinaman” is reflective of this new genre, and it is catching on with Asian Americans across the nation.

“Nachtrieb’s award-winning, sidesplitting comedy, under Desdemona Chiang’s expert direction at Washington Ensemble Theatre, juggles horror and hilarity with the best.”   –Seattle Times

“Director Desdemona Chiang assembles a cast that attacks this dark comedy with the ferocity of hungry kids at a pie-eating contest.”   –Seattle Weekly

HUNTER GATHERERS

by Peter Sinn Nachtrieb
directed by Desdemona Chiang

Jan 8 – Feb 8, 2010
Washington Ensemble Theatre, Seattle, WA

Scenic & Lighting Design: Evan M. Ritter
Costume Design: Sarah Day

PRESS:

• Seattle Times: ‘Hunter Gatherers’ has power to repulse and convulse, at the same time
• Seattle Weekly: Hunter Gatherers: A very uncivilized dinner party
• Seattle Gay News: Outrageous and Dark Hunter Gatherers
• Seattle Metropolitan Magazine: Sex, Love, and Meat
• The Stranger: Domestic Violence
• The Examiner: Hunter Gatherers at WET Review
• SeattleActor.com: Review: Hunter Gatherers
• SunBreak: Hunter Gatherers‘ Primal Laugh Therapy Comes to Seattle

When the quaint customs of civilization begin to break down, what will become of Seattleites? Are we truly prepared to go to ground when our most daring flirtations with danger are limited to crossing a busy street in the rain while invisible to drivers in our stylish black D&G?

In Washington Ensemble Theatre’s regional premiere of Hunter Gatherers, playwright Peter Sinn Nachtrieb turns clever drawing-room comedy on its ear with one simple question: How many accidents separate us from complete anarchy?

Nachtrieb’s test case revolves around two couples who’ve been reconvening every year since high school for an exotic home-cooked meal. This time, übermensch Richard (Patrick Allcorn), concluding that fresh is best, has brought home a box containing “Carl,” a live lamb who must be slaughtered before dinner can be served. His wife, understandably, is a bit sheepish. But it’s all domestic bliss—at least at the outset. Richard refers to Pam (Montana von Fliss) with a jolly salute as his “Skipper,” and she responds affectionately by calling him “my boat.”

Nachtrieb’s 2006 play takes its comic cues from Friends, clearly draws on the moral outrage of innumerable Albee escapades, and so transparently derives its sense of the absurd from Christopher Durang that royalty checks should be arriving at his brownstone just about now.

Yet all these elements come together in a surprisingly organic way once the guests arrive. First on the scene is glamazon Wendy (Hannah Victoria Franklin), married to a doctor she’s emasculated through years of diligent emotional abuse. And as if Wendy’s acerbic barbs weren’t enough, Dr. Tom (Ricky Coates) is also Richard’s favorite prey for a good wrestling match—which inevitably concludes with the boastful and boorish Richard on top, ready to “claim his prize.”

So it goes, until the veneer of camaraderie cracks open and a toxic sludge of deception, resentment, and infidelity seeps in. What was intended as another evening of well-heeled repressives making nice-nice devolves into a rampage of Darwinian impulses. Dinner is served with a body count.

San Francisco playwright Nachtrieb has a gift for funny turns of phrase that undercut the seething tensions and the seriousness of what he implies: We’re all animals. And all the accoutrements, fine wines, and double entendres don’t mean much next to skills in fighting and rutting.

Director Desdemona Chiang assembles a cast that attacks this dark comedy with the ferocity of hungry kids at a pie-eating contest. Allcorn appears to have internalized entire chapters of Robert Bly’s Iron John, since nearly everything Richard does emanates from a burning passion to dominate the world around him and scatter his DNA as if from a confetti cannon. Von Fliss’ Pam is the one character who actually evinces an arc of growth. Tentatively at first, she peeks out from under her husband’s towering presence, until the confidence she gains allows her to face an unknowable future.

Likewise, Franklin’s Wendy is a study in the duality of modern feminism. Must strong women surrender a nurturing part of themselves in order not to be eaten alive in a male-dominated environment? Can those opposites be reconciled? Well, not for Wendy, who’s undone by her own rapacious urges. Tom is easily Nachtrieb’s least sympathetic character, and the most contemporary of all who hunt and gather here. He’s the archetypical metrosexual—the kind of guy handy with a quip who couldn’t change a tire if his life depended on it. Coates’ Tom is a fellow bullied into the margins ofhis own life by his wife, his friends, Dr. Phil, and God knows how many other sensitive males of the media.

Chiang stirs this little mess of a dinner party into a savory three-alarm chili. But despite all the fun, there’s one element I found distracting: In casting the physical types at the extreme (both Allcorn and Franklin tower over their onstage spouses), she telegraphs much of what Nachtrieb tries to unveil through wordplay and foreshadowing. Call it a minor quibble; it’s nothing that will prevent you from laughing your ass off—and gazing warily across the table at your next dinner party.

Rarely does one watch a play with a hand over a mouth or a jaw dropped in astonishment, but this might be your experience as you watch Hunter Gatherers by Peter Sinn Nachtrieb at Washington Ensemble Theatre (WET). The unique opening scene has a couple celebrating their wedding anniversary by personally slaughtering a lamb in their living room. That hysterical moment sets the stage for the rest of the improbable doings on stage for the next two hours.

This dark, farcical story might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but for those who like their drama outrageous, it doesn’t get more outrageous than this. Two couples, friends since grade school, married on the same day and traditionally celebrate their wedding anniversary together every year. It turns out that “friendship” might not be the appropriate word for their relationship.

Patrick Allcorn plays Richard, the artist, who still has to compete for domination physically, caveman-style. He is married to meek and pleasing Pam (Montana von Fliss), who dubiously says, “Aye aye, captain” to his commands. In comes Wendy (Hannah Victoria Franklin), who mirrors Richard’s king of the jungle as queen, and her meek and pleasing husband, Tom (Ricky Coates), the doctor. Richard immediately challenges Tom to their annual physical wrestling match, which Tom always loses.

The couples fit the schoolyard stereotypes of the football player, the cheerleader, the nerd and the girl-next-door. It seems clear that the wrong couples married and they might be more successful switching partners. There are ugly revelations of marital stress and the wearing away of what used to be strong bonds.

The four work well as a team under director Desdemona Chiang. Scenic and lighting designer Evan Ritter creates a stark, modern apartment loft feeling with excellent use of compact space. Music from the ’80s punctuates the scenes.

The veil of civilization is torn away and baser animal instinct is exposed. The urges to have sex, procreate, and dominate take over. The meekest of them all, von Fliss’ Pam, has a delicacy you want to preserve, and hope that she finds a way to succeed in the end, through all the mayhem. Her character wants to believe in everything good, and her worst nightmare is to doubt her friends and loved ones.

Coates’ Tom turned his back, early on, on his real “nerd” friends in favor of friends in name only who tease and ridicule him. His regrets are palpable. Franklin, as the vigorous Wendy, regrets marrying Tom and finding that he is infertile. She wants a baby in the worst way and is ready to abandon Tom to get one. Allcorn’s Richard regrets focusing his sexuality only on one person. He’s ready to sow his seed anywhere, in anyone, male or female, believing finally that this is what he was meant for.

The production might linger in your mind as you try to figure out exactly what Nachtrieb was saying. Or it might just make you snort, later, as you remember some of the outrageous physical comedy or the darker moments of strangeness. WET’s reputation for edgy material is extended with this production. For more information, go to www.washingtonensemble.org or www.brownpapertickets.com or call 800-838-3006.

Comments on reviews go to sgncritic@gmail.com.

In his meaty farce “Hunter Gatherers,” sharp-witted scribe Peter Sinn Nachtrieb starts yanking your chain right away.

Vegetarians, vegans, even carnivores will watch in horror as a helpless animal (unseen, thankfully) is slaughtered in a San Francisco living room, at the altar of a dinner party.

But great satire can repulse and convulse simultaneously. And Nachtrieb’s award-winning, sidesplitting comedy, under Desdemona Chiang’s expert direction at Washington Ensemble Theatre, juggles horror and hilarity with the best.

In a cross between “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf” and an uncensored episode of “Survivor,” timid Pam (Montana von Fliss) and ultra-macho hubby Richard (Patrick Allcorn) are dining with unfulfilled, sharp-tongued Wendy (Hannah Victoria Franklin) and her browbeaten doctor husband, Tom (Ricky Coates).

Childhood pals, now in their mid-30s, the foursome have grown apart since their double wedding. But they reunite annually — this time, with an orgy of devolution.

There is nothing subtle about the set-up. In 90 minutes, these people will go from allegedly civilized folk to craven jungle beasts in a bloody turf war.

Under all that everyday angst are wild things raring to get out — a blunter theme than that in Nachtrieb’s more recent, science-tinged comedy “Boom” (a hit at Seattle Rep in 2008).

Yes, tall Richard and Wendy are hunters, lustful for meat, offspring and each other’s privates. Little Pam and Tom are meek gatherers, the goody-goodies and tolerant masochists who clean up others’ messes.

Set designer Evan Ritter’s tidy San Francisco living room, garnished with Richard’s jokingly minimalist art (lots of stones in plexiglass boxes) is built for a trashing, as primal urges rush to the fore.

But even if we can guess what’s coming, there’s rich amusement throughout “Hunter Gatherers,” in Nachtrieb’s scripted combustions, and pitch-perfect dialogue for San Francisco Gen-Xers fogged in by a malaise of generational disaffection.

“When you lose faith in your friends, what’s left?” someone asks. The retort: “Leverage.” Pam muses about escaping with a nice quiet bath, a glass of wine “and a fresh ‘Harry Potter.’ ” Richard crows, in a chest-beating frenzy, “I am feeling really mortal right now!”

Also very funny is all the gymnastic shtick Chiang and company pull off. You almost feel guilty for chortling at those dangerous-looking flips, falls, fights and freakouts. But laugh one must.

The actors dig deep, and deliver. If he comes on too strong too fast, Allcorn fully, sweatily, scarily embodies Richard’s Neanderthal gusto. Coates captures Tom’s milquetoast wariness, but also his barely repressed rage and sexual confusion. (By the way, there’s plenty of simulated sex.)

Tart, lanky Franklin is like a young Kathleen Turner here, perfecting Wendy’s verbal darts, smug hypocrisy and sensuous turmoil.

Last but not least, von Fliss is a wonderful Pam, with all the sweet frizziness, moral concern and untapped bravura that make her so funny, lovable and triumphant.

Who knew that a play that simulates violent sex and animal sacrifice could be a pleasant surprise? In the Washington Ensemble Theatre’s tiny black box on 19th Avenue East is a big, booming production full of wit and carnal mayhem—the kind that may make you flinch, but you’ll laugh loudly as you do. In Hunter Gatherers, two dissatisfied thirtysomething couples reunite for their joint wedding anniversary in a small San Francisco apartment. As the smell of fresh lamb wafts out of the kitchen, civility is dismissed and primal urges take over.

In less capable hands, this concept could devolve into a queasy mess. Thankfully, director Desdemona Chiang does an outstanding job pacing the razor-sharp script by Peter Sinn Nachtrieb, giving you enough time to process what just happened without letting it linger like week-old meat. There isn’t a weak link in the cast either. Of particular note is Hannah Franklin, a tall redhead with the comedic timing of Lucille Ball who plays Wendy, a self-satisfied “hunter” who lusts for her best friend’s husband.

Considering Nachtrieb’s fresh take on thirtysomething malaise, it makes sense that this play won the ATCA/Steinberg New Play Award in 2007. I might even go back for a second helping.

Washington Ensemble Theatre’s ‘Hunter Gatherers’ runs through February 8.