Optimistic Afong Moy reveals troubling reality
New play tells lurid story of first Chinese woman to visit U.S. in 1834
There’s a lot that’s heartbreaking about “The Chinese Lady,” the new play making its Bay Area premiere at San Francisco’s Magic Theatre, but perhaps what’s most devastating is the earnest optimism of Afong Moy.
The first Chinese woman to come to the United States, in 1834, the real-life Afong was put on display for paying audiences to gawk at as a promotional device for an exotic goods import business.
The fictionalized Afong re-envisioned by playwright Lloyd Suh (who previously premiered “American Hwangap” and “Jesus in India” at the Magic), is practically bursting with enthusiasm. She’s as fascinated with Americans’ customs as they are with hers, but she’s also a true believer in her mission as a cultural ambassador to foster greater understanding and exchange between the two countries.
How exactly she thinks that is to be accomplished by letting people watch her eat with chopsticks and walk in circles on her bound feet is a mystery, but Rinabeth Apostol makes you believe it with her irrepressible, shining zeal as Afong. At first you might think her constant bright smile is simply because she’s on display and that’s what’s expected of her, but the more she talks the more you realize her enthusiasm is sincere.
One reason you might mistake her sunny demeanor for cynicism is because of the wryly trenchant observations laced throughout her running commentary, often touching on things she does not yet know at the time depicted. Her words bespeak a savviness that she does not yet possess.
That’s because she is both Afong Moy and a representation of Afong Moy, not just for the paying audience watching her in the 19th century but also for the paying audience watching her in 2019.
“What is happening is a performance,” she said. “For my entire life is a performance.”
Will Dao is a fascinating contrast as Atung, her selfeffacing assistant. At first he’s all smiles too as he pulls back the curtain to reveal her, translates for her and brings her food. As years of the same routine wear on, his cheery demeanor sours. He seems bored and irritated and it’s not hard to see why, even before the two of them reenact a predictably disheartening visit with President Andrew Jackson. (Interestingly, Jackson was all over Bay Area stages last week, also appearing in “Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson” at Custom Made Theatre and the just-closed “Sovereignty” at Marin Theatre Company.)
Atung acts as a stoic representation of the Chinese men then living and working in the U.S. and a sobering reminder of how isolated and discounted they were. Once the historical context starts creeping in about the Opium Wars, the Gold Rush, the building of the Transcontinental Railroad, the Chinese Exclusion Acts and massacres of Chinese immigrants, the already dehumanizing spectacle of a foreign woman displayed as an oddity becomes more and more troubling.
Director Mina Morita helps that unease build deftly in her spare staging. Jacquelyn Scott’s set is largely bare except for the small curtained-off platform that serves as Afong Moy’s stage and cage, surrounded by furnishings designed to cater to a Western idea of Chinese decor. The interstitial music in Sara Huddleston’s sound design is similarly chosen for maximum exotification, especially at first.
There are several possible endings before the actual end, with diminishing returns. The most resonant aspect of the last scene is how directly it ties the question of why people came to see the original Afong back to the question of why we come see her now. This may be a historical piece, but exotification and commodification are hardly things of the past.