King of the Yees

Or: Chinatown

Smart, spunky, and glittering with wit, Lauren Yee’s autobiographical myth is a stunning blend of styles. Broad farce, rapier satire, epic fantasy, brain-looping puzzle, absurdist drama, drag-stravaganza, Miller-esque drama, hard hitting proto-tragedy, even a bit of well handled horror, this play has it all. We begin with playwright Lauren Yee (Stephenie Soohyun Park) trying to guide the actor playing herself (Angela Lin) and the actor playing her father (Daniel Smith) in a story about the “obsolescent" San Fransisco Chinatown and the man she loves but hardly knows. Growing up a Asian-American in an American Asian culture has left her baffled by the world of her family; she’d rather do nothing than risk doing something wrong, and finds it easier to handle it through the stylized tongs of her own telling. However, her rehearsal is hijacked by her real father, Larry Yee (Francis Jue), the ever smiling dynamo head of the Yee Fung Toy, the Lee Family Association, whose enthusiasm for his community and culture sweeps everything before him, but cannot quite keep hold of his daughter. But when the bottom drops out of Larry’s world and he abruptly disappears, Lauren must venture into the myth and mystery of Chinatown to reconnect with the world of her father and win back both him and their family name.

While a joy to see from first to last King of the Yees is a very horrid play to write about because it’s so tightly knit. So much information is threaded throughout (and so many jokes come blazing gloriously out of left field) that one cannot touch a moment without spoiling the rest. It grieves me to leave the marvelous performances of Smith and Lin and the Fabulous Third Actor, Richard Chan, largely in darkness. The ability of this marvelous trio to be outrageous without being showy, utterly grounded in the needs of their wild characters. One particularly well written an surely executed sub plot involves Lauren’s actors trapped in the break room discussing their lives as Asians and as Artists and the nature of Existence (especial thanks to Lin for nailing a certain song). It’s hilarious and sure wipes Beckett’s eye.

Quite besides its marvelous story and vibrant tellers it is also one of the best produced plays I’ve seen. Director Joshua Kahan Brody has expanded and stretched so many of the physical jokes (a Mad Men style fall, and Elder chicanery, to touch on a few) but also has cultivated the talents of Costume Designer Izumi Inaba to tailor her splendid suits to the story and projection designer Mike Tutaj with simply brilliant creations. Set Designer William Boles through a minimalistic run grounded on the Yee Association Doors (brought to life by Tutaj in an out and out magical moment) and a simple frame, still manages to shift the world.

Park, as her creator, carefully balances the politeness and chill, for most of the first act, as Larry runs wild, frozen smile of “this can’t be happening” is stuck to her face, too courtesy bound even to protest. In act two, when she is called upon to show herself worthy her wonderfully developed sense of play shines forth, wether indulging in the art of the haggle, cutting up a rug, or escaping the FBI. For his part Jue embraces the high energy of embarrassing dads everywhere, and makes the character as much of a cunning storyteller as his daughter, but when tripped up, or when holding a wish his earnest stillness brings tears to our eyes. For far beyond all it's beautiful gimmicks, King of the Yees is about the stories we tell ourselves, about where and who we come from, and what we leave behind. About how those stories must be told, in order to ensure that those things existed. That is as fine and necessary a seed for a play to grow from, it is a delight to gather such succulent and varied fruit.