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JOY LUCK CLUB 2007 REVIEW |
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Women access their inner tigers in
'The Joy Luck Club': review
November 7, 2007 - 20:28
Jennifer Farrar, THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
NEW YORK - A large white feather floats high above the stage, the deceptively peaceful opening symbol of Pan Asian
Repertory Theatre's new production of the intergenerational drama, "The Joy Luck Club."
In the prologue, a Chinese immigrant-mother expresses her wish to one day tell her American-born daughter, "This
feather may look worthless, but it comes from afar and carries with it all my good intentions."
But another message emerges from the play, which opened Wednesday at off-Broadway's Julia Miles Theater, as well:
Women need to access their inner tigers.
Skilfully directed by Tisa Chang, playwright Susan Kim's adaptation of the popular Amy Tan novel is centred on a group
of four middle-aged Chinese immigrant women in San Francisco in the 1980s. The women meet weekly to play
mahjong and focus on the positive things in their lives - their joy and luck - which usually includes bragging about their
American-born daughters, who are now young adults.
As the play opens, one club member, Suyuan Woo, has recently died, and her daughter, Jing Mei, played by Han Nah
Kim, is asked by the remaining "aunties" of the group to tell them her stories about her mother: "Stories she told,
lessons she taught, her hopes and the things that mattered to her."
But the older women are shocked to hear Jing Mei say that she doesn't know anything about her mother. They realize
that they all have failed to share their personal and cultural history with their westernized daughters. So they begin to tell
stories that fuse myth and reality, to convey not only how to deal with men but even more important, the timeless
battles, misunderstandings and often-fraught but enduring love between mothers and daughters.
The daughters also tell their own stories, primarily about feeling misunderstood and oppressed by their mothers'
confusing advice and ambitions for them.
Told through 20 different vignettes that vary in tone and pacing, the narrative swoops back and forth between multiple
time periods to illuminate the circumstances that shaped the women, for better or worse. While events move rapidly,
covering some 60 years and more, the stories never feel rushed or contrived. Scene changes are subtly underscored by
actors gliding smoothly on and off the stage, accompanied by Chinese folk music, graceful rearrangement of Kaori
Akazawa's minimal set and lighting changes by Victor En Yu Tan.
The dialogue is permeated with wit, pathos and the instinct to survive. Back in China, some of the mothers used their
womanly wiles and twisted the cultural limitations to get free of oppressive situations. Mothers share their formative
girlhood experiences, including arranged marriages, wayward first husbands and a colourful, pageantry-laden 1918
Moon Festival.
The acting is consistently excellent, with Wai Ching Ho a poignant standout as An Mei Hsu. Despite her own life of
tragedy and seeming confusion, An Mei advises her indecisive and passive daughter Rose (Rosanne Ma) that she was
"born without wood," and that by not making choices, she is choosing to give up control over her own life.
Some of the women have adhered too much to their cultural inheritance to not speak out, and to "swallow their own
bitterness" - as well as that of other people. As Waverly Jong (strongly played by Tina Chilip) puts it, if you dare to tell
your Chinese mother to shut up, "you can be charged as an accessory to your own murder."
After showing turbulent visions from all the women's lives, Kim's vision remains optimistic rather than melancholy.
Hearing their mothers' stories, the daughters gain new perspective on their lives and capabilities, and may finally begin
to combine their "American circumstance" with their "Chinese character."
Now that these kitties have claws, they are prepared to pass the white feather of family memories to the next
generation.
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