Review: Chance Theater's ‘The Chinese Lady’
- Anita W. Harris
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
Written by Lloyd Suh based on a true story, and directed by Shinshin Tsai, “The Chinese Lady” offers an intricate portrait of an unusual person — Afong Moy (Michelle Krusiec), the first Chinese female to come to America in 1834 at age 14, where she was “displayed” in a museum in her “natural” cultural surroundings for the paying public to ogle.
But the play doesn’t just show this; it puts the audience in the position of those spectators, thereby questioning our perception of what we see when we see her while giving us thoughtful historical context on Chinese immigration.
Key to this is a parallel narrative of Afong’s translator Atung (Albert Park), who excels at purposely obscuring his thoughts just as he often distorts how he translates Afong’s speech. For while Afong seems to have accepted her role and is even excited to go on tour to other American cities and meet “emperor” Andrew Jackson, Atung harbors deep and intense feelings in his position as a Chinese in white society that lend emotional depth and complexity to the history Afong conveys.
The historical facts of Afong’s arrival, and Chinese immigration in general, are perhaps unsurprisingly distressing. Dressed in “traditional” Chinese silk gown and ornate headdress, Afong tells us how she was basically imported along with other Chinese artifacts, having been sold by her relatively well-off parents to a pair of American importers. The set reflects that aspect (creatively designed by Christopher Scott Murillo), opening like a wooden box to reveal a lacquered chair where Afong sits amid shelves laden with all things Chinese, from porcelain tableware to figurines.
And when Afong tells us how her feet were repeatedly bound and broken to deform them into tiny delicacies, and then walks around the display area as part of her “act,” Atung prompts us to clap for her. We soon realize that we are the 1834 audience who have paid 25 cents to see this exotic spectacle, to watch her eat with chopsticks the Chinese food that Atung has prepared, and pour tea in a ceremonial way — all part of a job for which she is not paid until Atung argues for her to get some of the ticket proceeds, and for himself to get more than her.
Atung thus positions himself like behind the scenes and on the sidelines of Afong’s display — except for one scene when he is alone and greedily inhales leftover rice from Afong’s meal. We can feel how visceral a link it is to his homeland, a place he left at age 14, like Afong. He goes on to reveal to us his lascivious inner thoughts about what he wants to do physically with the white women, and men, who come to see the show, and also why he doesn’t always translate truthfully. It is a rich and provocative scene, conveying something primal about his experience as a perpetual outsider.
Park is sublime in that scene, and also fluid and funny throughout as Atung, animating the stage in ways that help keep the story engaging, especially amid historical details ranging from Opium Wars to the Gold Rush to building the Transcontinental Railroad to the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 that restricted Chinese immigration and barred those already here from becoming citizens.
It falls on Krusiec as Afong to relate most of that history, which perhaps prevents her from being as animated as Park. But toward the end, as Afong recounts how she survived in this country decade after decade, realizing at some point she was like an animal in a zoo and the line between actress and character, which was already thin, dissolves completely, Krusiec comes into her own with emotional intensity, challenging the audience about what we see when we look at her.
One only wishes there were more room before that for her character Afong to express her inner world, such as whether, besides the strange foods in America like corn and bread that make her burp, she also felt lonely or scared. Instead, the play is conveyed as a relatively staid tableau as we literally watch Afong in her display except for when she steps outside it. Perhaps more of that would have added dramatic texture to the otherwise compelling historical narrative she relates.
But relating such history while helping to maintain the play’s sometimes uncomfortable structural tension, where we are both the audience now and in the 1800s — all while walking a very fine line between her character and herself — is perhaps demanding enough. And the final scene where Krusiec questions us, and calls on each of us to really listen and understand one another, allows the Afong Moy's story to mesh with our own lived experience in a powerful way.
“The Chinese Lady” continues through June 8 at Chance Theater, 5522 E. La Palma Ave., Anaheim, with shows Fridays at 8:00 p.m., Saturdays at 3:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m., and Sundays at 3:00 p.m. For tickets and information, call (888) 455-4212 or visit ChanceTheater.com. Run time is 1 hour and 20 minutes with no intermission.