Korean Quarterly

Giving Voice to the Korean American Community

Theatre

Chance meet-up leads to an unexpected outcome

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Stop Kiss describes a romance in a skillful story with layered meanings | By Joanne Rhim Lee (Summer 2025)

Emjoy Gavino and Kelsey Angel Baehrens in Theater Mu’s Stop Kiss, written by Diana Son and Directed by Katie Bradley, June 14 – 29, 2025, Gremlin Theater, Minneapolis.

The title of Diana Son’s play Stop Kiss might seem a bit off-putting at first, sounding like a punk band or the cheeky ending of a haiku. But after viewing Theater Mu’s powerful production at the Gremlin Theater in St. Paul, it is clear that this seemingly enigmatic title is just like the play – rich with layered meanings.

In the breezy opening scene, Callie, a traffic reporter in her late 20s who lives in a spacious rent-controlled apartment in New York City, is fretting about how she agreed to meet Sara, a friend of a friend who just moved to the city from St. Louis.  Sara recently received a fellowship to teach third grade at a public school in the Bronx, but her new apartment doesn’t allow cats, so Callie has agreed to keep her beloved Caesar temporarily.

Callie was planning a quick meeting and pet drop-off, as she has dinner plans with her on-and-off-again boyfriend George. However, the two women quickly move past the obligatory small talk and seem to forge an instant heartfelt connection, something they recognize as rare among strangers in such a big city. Callie cancels plans with George and opens a bottle of wine with her new friend instead. Over the next few weeks, Callie invites Sara to explore the city with her, and they both begin to see things in a new light.

Sara’s character could be a cliché as the wide-eyed idealistic Midwesterner who arrives in the big city with a desire to help underprivileged children, but Kelsey Angel Baehrens imbues her with such warmth and honesty that the character of Sara feels entirely genuine, like someone we all would want to befriend. Her vulnerability is contagious, and Callie soon begins to open up and peel away the hard shell that she has built up over the years.

As Callie, Emjoy Gavino is also relatable, a woman who used to love to sing and dance and soar, but perhaps has settled for “good enough,” in her job and in her relationship with George. The audience learns her recent past – that she relocated to New York for journalism school more than a decade ago, fell into the comfortable and stable job of traffic reporter, and then lost the impetus to leave.

As the two women, who have both only dated men before, become closer, they begin to navigate their growing attraction to each other. They have both fallen for someone they didn’t initially expect to, and we enjoy their endearing playful banter and slowly melting hearts.

Director Katie Bradley and Playwright Diana Son.

This tender, meet-cute romance is suddenly disrupted by a shocking and violent hate crime (not shown on stage). It’s a brutal wake-up call, indicating that not everyone believes that love is love, and feels sadly prescient, more than 25 years after Diana Son wrote this groundbreaking play in 1998. Just like Callie and Sara, the audience surely yearned to see how things would play out in this early-stage romance. Instead, Sara wakes up after having been in a coma, and Callie is injured as well.

Under Katie Bradley’s assured direction, Stop Kiss unfolds in a non-linear structure, shifting from the budding romance to the aftermath of the attack, in police interviews and hospital rooms. In the hospital scenes, Theater Mu’s production becomes a showcase for the two main actors. Sara cannot speak and can barely move, but Baehrens conveys volumes through her subtle movements and expressive eyes. As the one who escaped the worst, Callie is wracked with guilt, and Gavino captures both her visible grief and the quiet unraveling beneath. Clay Man Soo is stellar as the sweet but sometimes clueless George, and Theater Mu’s former artistic director Lily Tung Crystal also shines in various supporting roles.

The Gremlin Theater is a tiny venue on St. Paul’s border with Minneapolis, with about 100 seats on three sides of the thrust stage, but it’s the perfect stage for this lovely production. Stop Kiss is a triumph – urgent, moving, and not to be missed!

Theater Mu’s Stop Kiss runs until June 29, 2025 at the Gremlin Theater.

Rice cookers speak out

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Cuckoo explores modern loneliness and role of technology | By Joanne Rhim Lee (Winter 2024)

Cuckoo, written and performed by Jaha Koo, February 6-8, 2025 ~ McGuire Theater, Walker Art Center, Minneapolis

In 1997, South Korea was rocked by a catastrophic financial crisis which affected millions of its citizens, including longtime employees of corporate conglomerates (chaebols). There were immediate layoffs, and salaried workers and their families abruptly lost their financial security and status. In the years following the crisis, South Koreans worked hard to recover, but the emotional scars often remained, even after the economy grew and South Korea became a global powerhouse in manufacturing and technology.

Jaha Koo was a middle schooler at the time, and remembers the stress and anxiety that surrounded his family and his community. One of his friends even committed suicide, which shocked Koo to his core. Later, unlike many of his peers who felt pressured to pursue steady careers in science and technology, he chose to study theater and music in college and later moved to Europe to continue his studies in the performing arts.

In 2017, he produced Cuckoo, a unique multimedia performance that highlights three talking rice cookers. Since then, he has performed it at various theaters and festivals all over the world. His recent performance was at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis from February 6 through 8. Cuckoo was part of a series of four plays, spanning January and February, in Out There, an annual Walker celebration of experimental plays and storytelling offered every winter.

Cuckoo is the brand name of a high-end rice cooker, a ubiquitous kitchen appliance in virtually every Asian household. It announces when the rice is done in a warm sing-song voice in Korean, like a helpful robot that you might want to be your friend.

Koo begins his show with a series of projected images on a large screen, with a narration about the financial crisis, and then announces a very important event in 1989 — his own birth. It’s an indication that this will not only be a serious diatribe about collective trauma in Korea, but a humorous running commentary as well.

The three rice cookers begin speaking to each other, first in a very basic instructional way, with their glowing lights indicating which one is speaking. But soon it becomes clear that Koo has managed to hack into their electronic code, unlocking their different personalities that can be quite competitive, funny, and sad.

Koo does not want to cede the spotlight completely to the rice cookers, and later climbs up on the table and joins their conversation. He asks many deep questions about the role of technology in society, but like a good writer and artist, does not provide easy answers. Instead, his audience is left pondering what exactly happened in Korea that has led to so much loneliness and isolation, and how can we study the past so as to avoid the same mistakes in the future. 

Rice cooker and Jaha Koo.

A cuckoo world, diaspora style: Multi-disciplinary artist Jaha Koo discusses global Koreaness with Korean Minnesotans at the Walker | By Jennifer Arndt-Johns

A meet-and-greet that invited in the local Korean community was a welcome but infrequent opportunity for visiting multi-disciplinary artist Jaha Koo, who presented his experimental work Cuckoo at the Walker Art Museum in February.  It was also unique for the guests, who talked to the artist about his work’s themes of modern South Korean life, and how Korean communities try to preserve aspects of their culture wherever they live.

Koo, who is based in Europe, integrates music, video and performance for his play, which includes three technologically-hacked rice cookers (named Hana, Duri and Seri, meaning first, second and third).  His experimental performance was included in the four-play series Out There presented at the Walker Art Museum.

The reception was intended to welcome the artist to Minneapolis, and provided Korean community leaders a chance to connect with and learn more about Koo and his team in advance of the performance.

I learned that while Koo, as a part of his artistic process, tries to connect with Korean communities wherever he travels, he told the group that it was the first time that his performance hosts had organized a community meet-and-greet.

The reception was held in the green room off the McGuire Theater, where Cuckoo was staged.  Koo was with his wife and collaborator Eunkyung Jeong, his producer from CAMPO Arts Centre in Ghent (Belgium) Marijka Vandersmissen, and Technical Director Bart Huybrechts for the February 4 event.

Representatives from the local community included members from the Korean Institute of Minnesota, Theater Mu, Jangmi Arts, and the Korean Cultural Association.  The Walker was represented by Senior Curator Philip Bither, Senior Program Officer Julie Voight, and Project Manager for Performing Arts Sherisa Oie.

Light refreshments were served, and to the delight of Koo and Jeong, there were some yakgwa  (Korean traditional cookies), honey oranda snack bars and roasted seaweed, along with fruit, cheese, crackers and charcuterie. I pointed out that the yakgwa and honey oranda snack bars were carried temporarily by Costco because of Asian Lunar New Year, to which Koo lightheartedly replied “We love Korean food propaganda.”

As the group settled into a circle, the conversation transitioned into spontaneous dialogue, providing the artist and his team with a laundry list of places to visit in the Twin Cities, including a discussion of the guests’ special request for Korean soup.

Koo shared the most interesting food-related experience that emerged out of his recent trip to present Cuckoo in San Paulo, Brazil.  He said that in San Paolo, the kimchi retained the flavor of what he called an “old Korea taste,” something he thinks is fast disappearing through modernization.

The Korean Brazilian population in Brazil is estimated at 50,000, the most significant population in Latin America.  Koo said he learned that the first Korean immigrants to arrive in Brazil were fleeing the Japanese occupation. In 1962, after diplomatic negotiations led by organizations and former anti-communist political prisoners with interests in helping the Koreans relocate, South Korea and Brazil agreed to allow immigration of workers from South Korea’s agricultural sector to Brazil.

I had a similar experience feeling that the “old Korea taste” as well as old Korean values are becoming scarcer when, last year, I was trying to identify instructors to help teach Korean cooking classes at Korean Institute of Minnesota.  I met with a member of a church-based women’s leadership group to identify some candidates. I was surprised that she laughed when asked about people willing to teach kimchi-making, saying “None of us know how to make kimchi. We buy it at the grocery store!”

She suggested I talk to some of the “older elders,” as some still made their own kimchi. She also chided herself, adding that individuals in “your” community (referring to the adopted Korean community) probably have a different appreciation for learning about Korean cuisine because they weren’t raised with it.

Koo’s comment resonated with me with some sadness I often feel about generational loss of cultural knowledge. How will the traditions and traditional Korean food sustain and maintain its authenticity through time if no one teaches it, nor has the desire to learn it? Koo’s palate was attuned how the Korean Brazilian community had preserved some of the old flavors. The skill and sensitivity of that community in passing those flavors to the next generation is a reminder of why food is culturally important, not just for the food’s sake, but also as a form of self-preservation. As he described, food is an “asset to my own identity.”

The group also shared stories about cultural idiosyncrasies that they experienced, observed and wondered about in recent times. One topic addressed was the export, proliferation and visibility of Korean entertainment, also known as the Korean Wave, or Hallyu.  Koo mentioned that in recent years in Ghent (Belgium), instead of hearing “ching-chong chants” when encountering young children, he and his wife have been greeted by their attempts to speak Korean, or have even received an impromptu serenade in the form of a K-pop song; an example of the power of cultural exports to transform attitudes.

On a local level, Koo and his team were surprised to learn about the adopted Korean population in Minnesota, of which they had no previous knowledge. After the last performance of Cuckoo, I  briefly spoke to Cuckoo producer Marijka Vandersmissen.  She told me that the most poignant and thought-provoking comments Koo had received about the performance were from adopted Koreans. Many said they deeply identified with the term golibmuwon which Koo explains as “untranslatable” in Korean but describing “a form of helpless isolation.”  The feeling, he explains in the Cuckoo narrative, is deeply entrenched in his generation of South Koreans.

Prior to seeing Cuckoo,  the term golibmuwon was an unfamiliar Korean term for me. Yet, I can understand how such a sentiment would resonate with the community of adopted Koreans culturally isolated from their places of origin. I also wondered about the distinction between golibmuwon and the uniquely Korean emotion known as han.

While the event had some thought-provoking moments, one that still remains with me is Koo’s explanation of the state of feeling as if one does not belong anywhere. He even remarked “I don’t know where I can die.” As I have gotten older, I too, have wondered about this question also. It’s a deep wondering and longing connected to one’s basic need of finding a true place of belonging.

Before receiving the invitation from the Walker, I had no previous awareness of Koo’s work.  I am grateful for the opportunity to connect with Koo and his team, and the privilege of seeing his work performed on stage. I am hopeful that his other works, Haribo Kimchi and History of Korean Western Theatre can come to Minnesota so we may continue the process of exploring all the things we have in common.

Editor’s note:  A Q and A interview published by the Walker Art Museum is at this link. Program notes for the performance are at this link.

Small dinner, big questions

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Dinner for One skillfully mixes comedy with some poignant topics | Review by Joanne Rhim Lee (Fall 2024)

Sun Mee Chomet (Miss Sophie), Jim Lichtscheidl (James) and Sun Mee Chomet (Miss Sophie) in Dinner for One. Photos by Lauren B. Photography

Dinner for One Co-created by Christina Baldwin, Sun Mee Chomet, and Jim Lichtscheidl
(Directed by Christina Baldwin, Music directed by Emilia Mettenbrink, Jungle Theater, Minneapolis ~ November 30- January 5)

As the elderly but still spry Miss Sophie descends the regal staircase of her house on her birthday, her butler offers his hand to escort her to the dining room, where the table has been lovingly set with place cards for five guests. But as James begins to serve the first course of mulligatawny soup, it’s clear that Miss Sophie’s guests will not be arriving, and that she will be dining alone. Are they running late? Have they sent their regrets?

Dinner for One was originally produced in Germany in 1962 as an 18-minute black-and-white video recording,  written and performed in English by two British actors. Since then, it has become a kind of cult hit, broadcast every New Year’s Eve on television in several European countries, including Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Denmark, and Sweden.

In June 2023, Jungle Theater Artistic Director Christina Baldwin and actors Sun Mee Chomet and Jim Lichtscheidl sat down to brainstorm and workshop ideas which turned  Dinner for One into a full-length play. That production was a sold-out hit last winter, and Jungle Theater has brought it back for an encore run this holiday season.

This updated version is a poignant yet humorous portrayal of a relationship between an elderly employer and her faithful employee, and the tenderness that comes with decades of knowing each other’s tendencies, quirks, and personal losses. As Miss Sophie and James, actors Chomet and Lichtscheidl portray that knowing comfort with each other. Chomet embues Miss Sophie with quiet dignity along with a Lucille Ball-like hilarity with her subtle facial expressions and body language. As the butler in constant motion, serving the food and drinks, Lichtscheidl is a master of physical comedy, tripping over a bump in the rug and pouring refills in an exaggerated manner, all the while demonstrating his deep loyalty and affection for Miss Sophie.

Dinner for One might seem like a simple show with only two actors, but there are complex elements to this production. In Miss Sophie’s home, there are lots of beautiful vintage frames, but they are all empty. Were they once filled with photos of her loved ones, or has she always been alone?

There is also a large, framed stage where Musical Director Emilia Mettenbrink and fellow musicians seamlessly and cleverly weave music into each scene. Unlike many shows where the musicians are unseen, the musicians in this production are active participants in the story, challenging James and Miss Sophie with their notes.

One of the most creative elements of the show was the audience participation. Audience members were asked to write answers to a few pointed questions on a card in the lobby before entering, and some of the answers were read by the actors during the dinner. This could be risky as an improvisation, but it worked in this production, often resulting in laugh-out-loud comedy during the show.

Despite the humorous moments, Dinner for One is tinged with sadness throughout its 80-minute run time. When the dinner is over and the curtain closes, we are left with many questions about ourselves, our relationships, and our futures. We also leave with some topics for a good dinner party conversation.

Dinner for One runs until January 5, 2025 at Jungle Theater. 

Theater

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Iconic Korean comedy percussion show coming to Minneapolis | By Martha Vickery (Summer 2023)

A world-famous Korean comedy and traditional percussion show, Cookin’ (known as Nanta in Korea) will be in Minnesota for the first time in September. The family-friendly show, to be staged at Children’s Theatre in Minneapolis, combines various types of Korean performances, including drumming, martial arts, acrobatics, clowning and juggling, with pop music, and even food tasting.

There is another kind of expert juggling happening behind the scenes to get the performers to the city and the show to the stage – that is the job of show manager Katherine (Kate) Eun Young Park, who has done the job for 12 years.

The show was conceived and developed in 1997 by Seung-hwan Song, who is still its artistic director and the CEO of PMC Productions. Song is a well-known actor in Korean films and dramas, who also created and produced sequences for TV shows and stage shows in Korea, Park said. Cookin’ is the widest-traveled and best-known touring show from South Korea and has played in more than 60 countries, according to the audience guide.

Song has also produced spectacles such as the opening ceremony of the Pyeongchang Olympics in 2018. Park joined the production company about 12 years ago.

According to Park, Song created Nanta to provide an entertaining introduction to Korean traditional performance styles in a fun format that would eliminate the language barrier. His original purpose was to start the show in Korea, and take it worldwide, Park added.  It came together as Nanta in 1997, and had its first international show in 1999.  “Now this show is called Cookin’ in North America because it is all about what’s happening in the kitchen,” Park said.

The word nanta in Korean is a general word for “beating,” Park said. “We beat everything during the show, not only drums but chopping boards and everything else you see in the kitchen – the kitchen utensils, the kitchen sink, and everything.”

The premise of the comic show is that five chefs are on a deadline and doing their food preparation in a frenetic burst of energy.  It turns into a wacky competition among the five, with knives beating time, food going airborne, and kitchen implements flying, all in good fun, with some key moments for audience participation.

Like other live theater, the Nanta/Cookin’ show is making a slow comeback since the pandemic.  In 2019, Park said, the production company had 10 troupes working simultaneously, with three permanent theaters in Korea – two in Seoul and one on Jeju Island.  There was also a continuously-running show in Thailand and one in Guangzhou, China, Park explained.  That all came to a stop when, in early 2020 in South Korea, all live events were shut down due to the pandemic.

In 2022, when live theater opened up again, the leadership of PMC Productions decided to re-start by shrinking the number of Nanta/Cookin troupes to three. The Myeongdong theater now hosts Nanta, as does the Jeju Island theater. There are still no foreign theaters operating at this time, Park said.

Park said the production company recruits professional actors, most of whom do not have a background in drumming. “All the skills in marching, drumming and martial arts have to be through training they do after auditioning and being accepted for the Nanta company,” Park said. The training phase lasts about a year. They are mainly recruiting people with sufficient dramatic training to be one of only five funny and dynamic people on the stage. Each actor has to have advanced comic acting skills to engage the audience with their performance, and do successful audience participation with both children and adults.

The synopsis always states the same thing about what the show is and what’s going to happen, Park said, however  ”since there are different teams of actors, they are different in what they focus on,” she said. “One may be more focused on audience participation, another will be the most annoying and funny with the other chefs, and another may be more focused on the martial arts.”

The actors have to be clever, particularly when it comes to audience participation. There is a funny trash scene where one of the actors throws the trash bag into the audience.  In fact, it is a very lightweight foam-filled trash bag that gets thrown.  However, no actor would throw the trash bag near any little kids, she said.  Instead, Park said, “they look for a big guy who is close and engaged with the show, and throw it to him.”  If they are lucky, he will throw it back.  “They have to read the room and it is tough with the lighting to see who is even in the room. You learn to see who is reacting more to the show – that person might be great on stage.”

Another challenging part is that all the actors have to spend a lot of time on the stage, and the activity is intense.  “Some of characters are there from top of show to the end. It’s a lot,” she said.  However, they are all seasoned professionals and some have been with the company for the whole 20 years Nanta has been staged, including one of the actors who will be in Minnesota. It is a very experienced troupe overall, Park said. “The youngest has been with the show for seven years. They are the legacy of the show, and I’m so  proud to bring this group to Minnesota,” she said.

Park’s job varies with what the company is doing. She sells the PMC Productions stage shows to audiences internationally. When the company is planning an international tour, Park is doing tasks like setting itineraries and negotiating terms. When the company goes on tour, Park goes along “and then I am company manager, doing everything – it could be booking hotels and transportation for the company members, and taking care of their needs, especially if they got sick or hurt.  It is all my responsibility, as well as doing translation with the local crews.”

Park went to graduate school in San Francisco, majoring in theater design. She had some internships in California as an assistant set designer, she got a job in show management as a PMC Productions staff person.  Her skills in English got her work on the division that deals with international content sales. Since then she has been involved in the international productions.

Park said her favorite part is seeing the kids who come up to the stage to interact with the actors for just a moment. They have a lot of fun, and you can tell, she said, that they are making a memory they will always look back on.

Tickets for Cookin’ at the Children’s Theater in MInneapolis for the show run September 12 through October 22 are available at this link:  Cookin’ | Children’s Theatre Company (childrenstheatre.org)

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Feeling a parent’s loss

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Ten Thousand Things delivers an emotional story while keeping the comedic virtuosity | By Anne Holzman (Winter 2024)

(left) Tyson Forbes and Michelle de Joya and (right) Michelle de Joya and Clay Man Soo in Ten Thousand Things’ The Hatmaker’s Wife, by Lauren Yee.  Photo by Tom Wallace

The Hatmaker’s Wife by Lauren Yee
(Directed by Joel Sass, Ten Thousand Things Theater, various locations through March 17, 2024)

A wall that can talk and a writer’s imagination connect two generations of apartment dwellers in surprising ways in The Hatmaker’s Wife, brought to life with the usual panache of Ten Thousand Things Theater (TTT) at various Twin Cities locations through March 17.

The script by Lauren Yee is a strange, abstract read, but TTT roots it in dusty, sweaty realism as a young couple moves into an apartment and embarks on a shared life. It soon becomes apparent that the character scripted as Voice, played by Michelle de Joya, has access to a world that her partner Gabe, played by Clay Man Soo, cannot hear or see. This world will drive them apart, even as an older love story breaks through and resolves itself in newfound passion.

Yee’s wall is a character called Wall, played at TTT by the very tall and craggy Tyson Forbes draped in beautiful plaster-toned patchwork by costume designer Sonya Berlovitz. Wall drops pages of the older story into Voice’s hands, driving each new scene. As she watches each scene play out, perhaps in her imagination, Voice drifts farther from Gabe’s quotidian existence. Yee seems to ask, “how far apart can a couple drift before the relationship is truly over? Can we ever really know the person we call our life partner?”

The older couple who inhabited the apartment years before are the hatmaker named Hetchman, played by Jim Lichtscheidl, and Hetchman’s wife, played by Kimberly Richardson. A central issue of the play, and a sly critique of marriage in the Western tradition, is that no one can recall the wife’s name; she is known only by her relationship to Hetchman. As we can see by the parallel unnamed Voice, not much has changed between generations.

Wall, Hetchman, and Wife all speak in thick Yiddish accents, as does Meckel, an old friend of the couple, played by Pedro Bayon. Hetchman seems to have no emotional interest in his wife but is weirdly attached to his hat, which issues happy hat music that makes him shiver with pleasure. Wife resents this and takes the hat to have a copy made for herself by the second, third, or fourth best hat maker in town since her own husband, the best, refuses to make one for her. A Golem shows up, another reference to Yiddish storytelling. The Golem reveals secrets as the Wall keeps dropping pages to launch new scenes, until a connection is revealed between the couples that is more than just living under the same roof.

In a weekday afternoon performance at Avalon School in St. Paul, appreciative laughs met Hetchman’s crassly humorous opening scene, in which he used a claw tool meant for reaching objects on high shelves to scratch himself and retrieve snacks from the TV stand. He remains firmly rooted in his chair as Wife passes back and forth with various housecleaning tools, berating him for his laziness. Richardson’s voice as the Wife, ranging from squeals to growls, made her character especially poignant.

There was only one brief bit of audience interaction, unusual for TTT, which typically engages its audience throughout a performance. Nevertheless, the intense sadness and loss in The Hatmaker’s Wife was balanced by the company’s comedic virtuosity. Directed by Joel Sass, with music director Katherine Fried, this production brims with music and noise that fill the spaces of the spare script and lend it an air of magic.

Like all TTT performances, this one is done in the round, so that the viewer sees the action against the backdrop of an audience reacting across the circle. It is as if a story told around a fire had come to energetic life. When a character says, “love keeps you grounded,” and then a baby flies away, it is at once both heartbreaking and funny.

At the heart of the story is the loss or abandonment (depending how one looks at it) of a child. A baby left unattended is spirited away while a parent turns to attend to work. It is a message that is particularly meaningful for parents. It landed heavily for me, both as an adoptive mother and as a mother remembering a time when I had a colicky infant, who for months gave me little rest.

The story, although delivered with enough lightness and comedic balance, reminds us that children leave, families fall apart, and our best is often not good enough. We blame ourselves, we blame each other, and we keep our hat music trapped in our heads. We live with our choices and our failures, and if our walls could talk, we would probably hear more questions than answers.

Plastic tubs, wooden spoons, and imagination

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Cookin’ reminds us that we’re born to play, dance, and make music | Theater review by Anne Holzman (Summer 2023)

Cast of the Children’s Theatre Company production of Cookin’, 2023. Photo by Glen Stubbe

The kitchen is a playground and the cooks are the wildest kids you ever knew in the long-running South Korean show Cookin’ (in Korea the same show is known as Nanta) which is enjoying a madcap run at Children’s Theatre Company in Minneapolis.

The five actors carrying on their antics at top speed for an hour and a half have much more than just comic ability. They have also brought serious dance and drumming chops to this show about what goes on in a restaurant kitchen. Cookin’ is a rare opportunity to see a South Korean production based in Korean traditional percussion, comedy and martial arts on a Twin Cities stage.

In a brief introductory scene, we see an ancient hearth at which early humans delight in exploring rhythmic patterns as they chop food for cooking. The connection between chopping and drumming becomes the axle upon which the rest of the show will turn. It’s an odd premise for a drama, but this show falls somewhere between a circus act and an operetta, with the plot serving mainly as a showcase for the actors’ impressive stagecraft.

On the night I attended with my teenage daughter, gag after comic gag kept a nearly sold-out theater rocking with laughter. To my right, a boy of about 12 came in with parents and a flock of younger siblings – the bored older brother, complete with earbuds pounding his own music as the show started. Within five minutes, the earbuds disappeared and he was shouting and clapping along with everyone else.

Hyejin Song, Changhwan Ko, and Min Goo Jung in the Children’s Theatre Company production of Cookin’, 2023. Photo by Glen Stubbe

Cookin’ has been compared to Korean cooking shows, but this is a different kind of entertainment. Other than a brief sequence in which teams, including audience members, race to churn out mandu (dumplings), there is nothing competitive about this show, and it’s only marginally related to actual cooking. It’s more about workers making the best of a tedious existence by introducing play into their work shift and sticking it to the boss at every opportunity.

The cleverness is nonstop. Anything can be a percussion instrument – pots, tubs, even the kitchen scissors. And almost anything can fly through the air – pans, plates, knives, and vegetables. Lots and lots of vegetables. Wooden salt and pepper shakers appear briefly, morphing into claves as two characters engage in a sudden tango. This is facilitated by a bit of flirtation between two of the cooks, but as always, the plot is driven by stagecraft opportunities rather than the other way around.

Brooms and whisks become props for martial arts-inspired swordplay. A strainer comes in handy as a fencing facemask. Plates are, obviously enough, Frisbees, but these actors take the sport to new levels by sitting on each other’s shoulders and setting up a juggling pattern among four people.

And there’s plenty of old-fashioned “Three Stooges” style slapstick humor. People get slapped and punched and stuck in garbage cans. It’s all ridiculous, and hilarious.

Every now and then, the drumming becomes mesmerizing and we are suddenly in a world that’s more artistic than funny. The audience gets very quiet at those moments, absorbing the shifting patterns of pitch and tempo. In one especially clever episode, we see water tanks and plastic tubs mounted on wooden frames. These are similar to the frames used in a certain traditional Korean percussion in which women play on three mounted drums, one on each side and one at their backs.  In Cookin’s version, the actors do a more athletic-looking version of this drum dance, beating the tanks and tubs with kitchen implements, expertly spinning and jumping while maintaining a rapid rhythm. It is a pause for some unique Korean percussion before these proficient drummers turn back into rebellious cooks.

Eventually, there is a wedding feast, featuring a surprise for some audience members and great waves of applause and laughter to close the show.

It’s hard to focus on themes at the level of frenzy that is the fun of Cookin’, but the show does offer a message: Human beings can turn anything into a toy, a musical instrument, or both. We’re born to play. We might as well start in the kitchen.

Cookin’ up some fun

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Iconic Korean comedy percussion show coming to Minneapolis | By Martha Vickery (Summer 2023)

A world-famous Korean comedy and traditional percussion show, Cookin’ (known as Nanta in Korea) will be in Minnesota for the first time in September. The family-friendly show, to be staged at Children’s Theatre in Minneapolis, combines various types of Korean performances, including drumming, martial arts, acrobatics, clowning and juggling, with pop music, and even food tasting.

There is another kind of expert juggling happening behind the scenes to get the performers to the city and the show to the stage – that is the job of show manager Katherine (Kate) Eun Young Park, who has done the job for 12 years.

The show was conceived and developed in 1997 by Seung-hwan Song, who is still its artistic director and the CEO of PMC Productions. Song is a well-known actor in Korean films and dramas, who also created and produced sequences for TV shows and stage shows in Korea, Park said. Cookin’ is the widest-traveled and best-known touring show from South Korea and has played in more than 60 countries, according to the audience guide.

Song has also produced spectacles such as the opening ceremony of the Pyeongchang Olympics in 2018. Park joined the production company about 12 years ago.

According to Park, Song created Nanta to provide an entertaining introduction to Korean traditional performance styles in a fun format that would eliminate the language barrier. His original purpose was to start the show in Korea, and take it worldwide, Park added.  It came together as Nanta in 1997, and had its first international show in 1999.  “Now this show is called Cookin’ in North America because it is all about what’s happening in the kitchen,” Park said.

The word nanta in Korean is a general word for “beating,” Park said. “We beat everything during the show, not only drums but chopping boards and everything else you see in the kitchen – the kitchen utensils, the kitchen sink, and everything.”

The premise of the comic show is that five chefs are on a deadline and doing their food preparation in a frenetic burst of energy.  It turns into a wacky competition among the five, with knives beating time, food going airborne, and kitchen implements flying, all in good fun, with some key moments for audience participation.

Like other live theater, the Nanta/Cookin’ show is making a slow comeback since the pandemic.  In 2019, Park said, the production company had 10 troupes working simultaneously, with three permanent theaters in Korea – two in Seoul and one on Jeju Island.  There was also a continuously-running show in Thailand and one in Guangzhou, China, Park explained.  That all came to a stop when, in early 2020 in South Korea, all live events were shut down due to the pandemic.

In 2022, when live theater opened up again, the leadership of PMC Productions decided to re-start by shrinking the number of Nanta/Cookin troupes to three. The Myeongdong theater now hosts Nanta, as does the Jeju Island theater. There are still no foreign theaters operating at this time, Park said.

Park said the production company recruits professional actors, most of whom do not have a background in drumming. “All the skills in marching, drumming and martial arts have to be through training they do after auditioning and being accepted for the Nanta company,” Park said. The training phase lasts about a year. They are mainly recruiting people with sufficient dramatic training to be one of only five funny and dynamic people on the stage. Each actor has to have advanced comic acting skills to engage the audience with their performance, and do successful audience participation with both children and adults.

The synopsis always states the same thing about what the show is and what’s going to happen, Park said, however  ”since there are different teams of actors, they are different in what they focus on,” she said. “One may be more focused on audience participation, another will be the most annoying and funny with the other chefs, and another may be more focused on the martial arts.”

The actors have to be clever, particularly when it comes to audience participation. There is a funny trash scene where one of the actors throws the trash bag into the audience.  In fact, it is a very lightweight foam-filled trash bag that gets thrown.  However, no actor would throw the trash bag near any little kids, she said.  Instead, Park said, “they look for a big guy who is close and engaged with the show, and throw it to him.”  If they are lucky, he will throw it back.  “They have to read the room and it is tough with the lighting to see who is even in the room. You learn to see who is reacting more to the show – that person might be great on stage.”

Another challenging part is that all the actors have to spend a lot of time on the stage, and the activity is intense.  “Some of characters are there from top of show to the end. It’s a lot,” she said.  However, they are all seasoned professionals and some have been with the company for the whole 20 years Nanta has been staged, including one of the actors who will be in Minnesota. It is a very experienced troupe overall, Park said. “The youngest has been with the show for seven years. They are the legacy of the show, and I’m so  proud to bring this group to Minnesota,” she said.

Park’s job varies with what the company is doing. She sells the PMC Productions stage shows to audiences internationally. When the company is planning an international tour, Park is doing tasks like setting itineraries and negotiating terms. When the company goes on tour, Park goes along “and then I am company manager, doing everything – it could be booking hotels and transportation for the company members, and taking care of their needs, especially if they got sick or hurt.  It is all my responsibility, as well as doing translation with the local crews.”

Park went to graduate school in San Francisco, majoring in theater design. She had some internships in California as an assistant set designer, she got a job in show management as a PMC Productions staff person.  Her skills in English got her work on the division that deals with international content sales. Since then she has been involved in the international productions.

Park said her favorite part is seeing the kids who come up to the stage to interact with the actors for just a moment. They have a lot of fun, and you can tell, she said, that they are making a memory they will always look back on.

Tickets for Cookin’ at the Children’s Theater in MInneapolis for the show run September 12 through October 22 are available at this link:  Cookin’ | Children’s Theatre Company (childrenstheatre.org)

Holding up a mirror to Shakespeare

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Emilia celebrates women artists in history who struggled to be heard | By Anne Holzman (Spring 2023)

Marisa Tejeda, Sun Mee Chomet, Greta Ogelsby in Emilia. Photo by Alvan Washington

Emilia by Morgan Lloyd Malcolm, Ten Thousand Things, producer
(Directed by Marcela Lorca, Open Book, Minneapolis, and other community locations, through June 11, 2023)

What’s that, you say? An evening of storytelling with some of the Twin Cities’ finest actors, in this case all women, in a vintage high school gymnasium with an appreciative crowd that got in for free?

Yes, please!

Even better: A clever script yanking on memories of well-worn plays, twisting them like so much laundry and wringing out laughter and tears, and the amazement of sitting four feet from Greta Oglesby as she narrates this story in a voice that bounces off the basketball backboards with ease.

Not to mention the side-eye from actor (and Korean adoptee) Sun Mee Chomet as she grunts and strides and transforms her small frame with hockey-player braggadocio; and the hilarity of Kimberley Richardson in her role, high kicking, squealing and mugging in every direction at once.  There is also Mo Perry puffing out her cheeks and snorting the lines of an aging sexist aristocrat, and Marisa Tejeda’s divine chanting and regal bearing as the younger Emilia.

There is also George Keller’s quick transformations of manner and voice, Sophina Saggau doing body bumps off her teammates, and Maggie Chestovich contorting a comic face that must be made of Silly Putty, then holding the room’s whole collective breath through a brave woman’s silent suffering.

Yes, to Emilia, produced byTen Thousand Things, and directed with characteristic brilliance by Marcela Lorca with a star-studded cast.  The brilliant cast is all women (to make up for all those years when the Globe Theater, where Shakespeare staged his plays,  could only allow men to be actors). Yes to a theater company that gives us this fresh new look at where our theater traditions come from and the many that this tradition has left behind.

Written by Morgan Lloyd Malcolm, Emilia tells the story – with considerable imaginative embroidery – of Aemilia Bassano Lanyer (or Lanier), a poet of early 17th century England who, in spite of many headwinds as a woman of modest means, managed to publish a book of poetry and prose. The play picks up on the unproven theory that she became Shakespeare’s lover and inspired his references in sonnets to a “Dark Lady.” This reference is thought to be about Lanyer because the Bassano family was of southern European origin and likely Jewish.  

Three of Shakespeare’s plays have characters named Emilia, and there is a Bassanio in Merchant of Venice, but the evidence for more than a passing connection between Lanyer and Shakespeare is scant. That said, there’s no denying the achievements of Lanyer’s surviving work and the historical barriers for women to publish literature using their own names. Emilia is fiction, but it’s also a whopping load of truth.

Emilia premiered in London in 2018 and won three Olivier awards in 2019, including Best Comedy.

In this script, the playwright exploits  language differences across the centuries not only for comic effect, but to remind us that Emilia’s voice can be heard now in a way that was not possible during her lifetime. The actors deliver many lines in Elizabethan language but break to a line like Alfonso’s exit shot: “That would’ve been a massive drag, hmm?”

Echoing across the centuries are the many references to the ongoing struggles of women (“We merely ask for them to let us join”) and controversies over intellectual property (“No one owns words”). Beneath all the hilarity and fury of this script lie carefully constructed themes of authorship and authority that should keep the story fresh for generations.

The play follows conventions familiar in Shakespeare plays, including the use of a few actors to cover multiple roles and the nudging and winking that comes with actors impersonating the opposite sex. There is even a scene set at the Globe Theatre, the original venue for most of Shakespeare’s work, in which Emilia recognizes her own words in the mouths of actors and begins to shout over them, producing a strangely operatic effect of layered voices.

Audiences of Ten Thousand Things productions can count on becoming part of the action. The company sets up each performance space with a stage area surrounded by about a hundred folding chairs, arranged two rows deep around a square; actors enter and exit at the square’s corners and get their costumes from racks at the edges of the room. Occasionally an actor will briefly take a seat in the audience. Two characters in conflict sometimes circle the stage as in a boxing ring, using hand gestures to gin up excitement in the crowd. Toward the end of Emilia as the poet’s work finally begins to be published, the actors distribute poetry broadsides to the audience bearing lines by Aemilia Lanyer in a cursive font. Throughout the play, characters seek allies and start debates with audience members, adding to the fun and keeping us alert lest we be their next target.

Ten Thousand Things performs for paying audiences at Open Book in Minneapolis, where the show runs through June 11. The company also performs in community locations including parks, schools and prisons, some of them open to the public. The show at Patrick Henry High School was hosted by Project Success, which connects high school students with theater and other opportunities.

More info on Aemilia Bassano Lanyer can be found at: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/aemilia-lanyer

A tale of tusks

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Mlima’s Tale uses playful humor to explore a moral and environmental topic | Review by Anne Holzman (Winter 2023)

Joy Dolo, Brian Bose, Will Sturdivant and Clay Man Soo in Mlima’s Tale. Photo by Alvan Washington

Mlima’s Tale Script by Lynn Nottage

(Directed by Ansa Akyea, Open Book (Minneapolis) and other community venues, February 9 through March 12, 2023)

International ivory bans notwithstanding, the loss of elephants to the ivory trade continues, and it’s no laughing matter. A production of Mlima’s Tale, from the Twin Cities-based Ten Thousand Things theater company, draws belly laughs at human hypocrisy which is part of this remote conservation issue. The actors are hilarious; the story pulls at the heartstrings. It’s an evening’s entertainment that sends its consumers out into a world that needs changing. The phrase “if you’re listening” opens and closes the story, calling on the audience to hear and perhaps to act before more tusks are lost.

Before the actors took the stage on a February evening at Open Book in Minneapolis, Ten Thousand Things’ artistic director Marcela Lorca welcomed the audience back to the company’s first full-fledged production since the pandemic closed theaters. “We hope that this awakens conversations about our relations with the natural world,” Lorca said. And then she added, “Laugh out loud. Talk back to the actors if you feel like it. Have a good time.”

Will Sturdivant, Katie Bradley and Clay Man Soo, perform Mlima’s Tale at Project Success. Photo by Alvan Washington

Ten Thousand Things designs all of its productions to be portable. The company travels to schools, community centers, parks, and prisons with a vanload of props, ready to set up in whatever rooms happen to be available. Their challenge is to do more with less, and they target their productions to audiences who might be seeing their first play. The actors develop their characters by means of gesture, posture and voice with minimal reliance on costumes or props. Anything that cannot be depicted through a few yards of fabric, or a stool and a board, has to be delivered through good acting.

In Mlima’s Tale, expert direction is provided by Ansa Akyea. Much depends on carefully-developed accents as the actors’ roles switch rapidly among social classes and continents. Kudos to the company for investing in that effort, with guidance from dialect coaches Patrick Chew, Anh-Thu Pham, and Wariboko Semenitari. The steady hand of Dameun Strange on sound effects also does much to create illusions of time and place.

In this script, written by Pulitzer laureate Lynn Nottage, five actors play many characters, four of them switching quickly from scene to scene, announcing each new location as they also change roles. Brian Bose enacts the painful death of the iconic elephant Mlima in an African nature reserve. He becomes Mlima’s ghost listening to human discussions of his fate, then Mlima’s tusks being shipped clandestinely from Kenya to Vietnam, then to China, and finally an ivory sculpture in the home of an American celebrity, before he joins the circle of storytellers to close the play.

Katie Bradley and Clay Man Soo.

The other four actors, Joy Dolo, Will Sturdivant, Katie Bradley and Clay Man Soo, cover half a dozen characters each. There is no protagonist, really, just a victim of corruption being carried along by series of transactions, variations on a theme that resolves itself with the appearance of an avatar of wealth and power from yet another continent, who ultimately carries the blame for the corruption.

The story opens with elephants singing together (beautifully!) and tossing out names, family lines and brief biographies. These elephants claim the dignity of individual souls. The refrain of names will ring out again as the tusks make their passage across oceans, and the play will end with a reprise, framing the story of losses for elephants expressed in human terms. It is an ambitious premise, and some of the fun of this production lies in our conspiracy as audience and actors believing there are elephants on the stage.

In the play’s early scenes, the motivations that drive illegal ivory exports are carefully explored. The hunters debate honor, compassion, and the need to feed their families. The officials who turn a blind eye – for a price – cite wealth and power beyond their borders.

Motivations on the Asian end of the trade are less developed and the characters less sympathetic. The lack of balance between the ethnic groups and nations opens the script to the danger of stereotyping the Asian characters, which is mitigated by mixed-race casting, but caused me some discomfort nonetheless.

The story holds together, much as some of Shakespeare’s shakier plots hold together, on the strength of compelling language. Nottage has a musical ear and uses repeated lines and images to great effect. There is lyricism in the appreciation of fine ivory sculptures with their ancient heritage. A hunter explains his choices in terms of Islamic morals. An American ship captain (Stars and Stripes propped on a stool, Georgia accent) tries heroically to resist temptation. A model container ship, roughly carved and painted, tosses about Mlima’s body to represent the tusk’s journey across the Indian Ocean while also evoking historic passages of enslaved people. The evocation of elephants’ names and lineages returns here in a haunting chant. The ship docks in Vietnam, and the humans reappear, bringing their corruption with them.

There is a Brechtian self-consciousness about all of this as the actors, mainly staying in character (an actor did lose it in laughter at least once in the performance I saw), appeal to members of the audience for sympathy or agreement. Much of this appears to be improvised, using gestures and vocalizations without straying from the script, and the cast carries it off with great panache.

Leading the charge is Joy Dolo, who plays several of the bullying officials with chilling enthusiasm and appears at the end of the story as the wealthy celebrity who bought the carved tusks. Her forays into the audience drew repeated laughter on the night I attended, including one episode in which she waded abstractedly between rows, clambering over the knees of audience members while shouting into a cell phone.

The best thing about the play is that it really is a “play” – the actors play with one another and with members of the audience, and it’s just plain fun. The aperture between elephants and people widens as human actors attempt to portray another species, with minimal props and costumes, inhabiting them as named characters and endowing them with histories and afterlives. Waves of sadness and joy, humor and regret, rise and fall but leave the central problem unresolved, with work to be done and many directions to explore before we figure out how to put a stop to the cruelty we inflict on another species.

Mlima’s Tale runs until March 12, to order tickets, visit: https://tenthousandthings.easy-ware-ticketing.com/events

Power dynamics, then and now

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Play on a famous relationship contrasts with modern racial tensions in Sally & Tom | By Joanne Rhim Lee (Fall 2023)

Luke Robertson, as Thomas Jefferson; Sun Mee Chomet, as Polly; Suzan-Lori Parks as Sally in Sally & Tom.

Sally & Tom By Suzan-Lori Parks
(Directed by Steve H. Broadnax III, Guthrie Theater, Minneapolis, October 7 – November 6, 2022)

The opening scene of Suzan-Lori Parks’ Sally & Tom predictably features Thomas Jefferson and his mistress/slave Sally Hemings, with other characters including Sally’s sister and Jefferson’s daughters listening in the background. 

However, when the scene ends, it quickly becomes apparent that the characters on stage are not only playing Jefferson and Hemings, but actors who are in last minute rehearsals for a play about them.  Luce who plays Sally, is also the playwright of the play within a play. When she is introduced, she is making last minute changes to the dialogue during the rehearsal.  This is quite disconcerting to the rest of the cast, including Luce’s boyfriend and creative partner Mike, who plays Jefferson.  There is a simmering tension between them, hinting at troubles in their relationship. 

This is the meaty meta-premise of Parks’ world premiere of Sally & Tom at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis.  

Luce struggles to find the right balance of historical accuracy and contemporary commentary on this story of race and class.  Did Thomas Jefferson really love Sally Hemings, his slave?  More importantly, did she love him?  Is it possible to love someone who owns you?  How do relationships navigate a power imbalance?

Even amidst the chaos on the set and behind the scenes, the show must go on, and it’s thrilling to watch Luce’s creative process unfold, and to bear witness to Parks’ singular brilliance as a playwright writing for a playwright.  During the rehearsals, there is a feeling of excitement and creativity in the air, as if everyone understands that they are a part of something wonderful and important unfolding. 

Luke Robertson, as Thomas Jefferson and Suzan-Lori Parks as Sally in the Guthrie’s presentation of Sally & Tom.

As Luce/Sally, Kristen Ariza perfectly captures the intelligence, strength, and vulnerability of both characters.  As Sally, she obeys Jefferson and plays the role of devoted slave/lover.  On stage as the playwright and director, she is able to pull rank with Mike, but at home, things are more complicated.  They try to separate the personal from the professional, but it’s difficult.   

As Mike/Thomas Jefferson, Luke Robertson has a difficult, thankless role, but he pulls it off, showing a humble yet complicated devotion to the woman he loves.

The other six actors in the production double up as stagehands, costume directors, and prop managers. They are also Luce and Mike’s friends, which makes everything even more emmeshed.  Originally, Luce writes a searing monologue for Kwame, who plays James, another of Jefferson’s slaves.  Amari Cheatom shines in this dual role, delivering the most powerful scene in the play.  But when playwright Luce considers cutting the scene, her friendship with actor Kwame is put to the test. 

Another standout in the cast is Sun Mee Chomet, who plays Jefferson’s younger daughter Polly, as well as actor Scout, who assists Luce with scheduling and direction.  As a Korean American, Scout understands that the opportunity to play Jefferson’s daughter in such an important production is a gift, an example of color-blind casting.  Though she is grateful, she’s also tired of being the token Asian.  Scout says she has more to offer than being a sidekick; there are things she wants to say, and roles she wants to play.  Credit goes to Parks for creating this rich, layered role, and for Chomet for imbuing Scout/Polly with a deep and genuine pathos. 

Against all odds, Luce and her cast make it to opening night.  The audience might think they’ve seen everything in the rehearsals, but Parks has saved the best for last.

Parks’ Topdog/Underdog, which is now playing on Broadway, was called recently called “the greatest American play of the past 25 years” by the New York Times.  She has created her own competition for this title with her new work Sally & Tom.

Performances continue through November 7 ~ to get tickets, visit: guthrietheater.org

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