Pacific Overtures (review)

Abstract

Reviewed by: Pacific Overtures Cecilia J. Pang Pacific Overtures. Book by John Weidman. Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. East West Players. David Henry Hwang Theatre, Los Angeles. 29 April 1998. Click for larger view View full resolution Keone Young in East West Players of Los Angeles’s production of Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman’s Pacific Overtures, directed by Tim Dang. David Henry Hwang Theatre, Los Angeles. Photo: Michael Lamont. Click for larger view View full resolution Paul Wong, Deborah Nishimura, David Furumoto, Janice K. Terukina, and Mike Hagiwara in East West Players of Los Angeles’s production of Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman’s Pacific Overtures, directed by Tim Dang. David Henry Hwang Theatre, Los Angeles. Photo: Michael Lamont. To christen its new expanded theatre in Los Angeles’s Little Tokyo, East West Players (the nation’s oldest Asian American theatre company) mounted its second production of Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman’s Pacific Overtures. It is a fitting choice for the company, which seeks to prove that, despite the disappointment surrounding the outcome of the Miss Saigon controversy, the cultural war is not over; in fact, parody is the sweetest revenge. The Asian-Americans’ protest did achieve one victory: the awareness of a neglected voice. Thus, the all-Asian cast in the East West Players’ production of Pacific Overtures, with the use of half- or hand-held white masks for non-Asian characters, is one expression of this awareness. The move to a mid-size 240-seat Equity house is an important step for East West Players, increasing professional opportunities for Asian-American actors. Aesthetically, it is a vast improvement over its old 99-seat home, but its insufficient wing space makes Lisa Hashimoto’s set design of five mobile shoji screens and countless assemblages of wooden [End Page 537] blocks and fly drops appear overbearing, though perhaps intentionally configured to represent the American invasion. Designer Naomi Rodriguez’s ornamental and elaborate costumes worked best in the comic numbers. Her inventive dressing of the geishas and madam in kimonos with American flag motifs in “Welcome to Kanagawa” was the show’s highlight. However, when the flag design was used again on Commodore Perry and on the American Ambassador, the effect proved heavy and unwieldy. Initially, Sondheim and Weidman set out to devise a musical about Commodore Perry’s subjugation of Japan from the Japanese point of view, by liberally borrowing elements from traditional Kabuki theatre. East West Players faithfully adopted such conventions including Kurogo, the invisible stage hands, a Reciter (the narrator), elaborate white-face make-up, and males impersonating female characters. While the presence of a hanamichi (bridge) and the technically demanding mie (poses) are sorely missed in this production, director Tim Dang took gender-bending one step further by having women play some of the male roles. At times, it worked effectively, especially Deborah Nishimura who displayed virtuoso acting and singing range with her portrayals of the insidious Emperor’s Doctor in “Chrysanthemum Tea” and the innocent Boy in “Someone in a Tree.” Addie Yungmee, on the other hand, was ineffectual as Commodore Perry. Her “Demon Dance” betrayed more of her training as an LA Laker cheerleader than as a Kabuki performer. The choreography was filled with enough hair tossing, jumping, and vaulting to suggest a caged bird in heat rather than the author’s intent of a “strutting, leaping dance of triumph.” Nevertheless, this might have been part of the director’s concept, since Dang acknowledged that he got permission from Sondheim to reinterpret the “Lion Dance” as a “Demon Dance.” His goal to transform the triumphal arrogance of Perry into a demonic expression of his monstrosity would have been an appropriate one, had the artistry sufficed. Dang managed to establish East-West conflicts throughout, using cross-cultural satire. From the outset, he positioned the musicians on opposing sides of an upper-level proscenium platform. On one side sat the Japanese percussionists in kimonos, and on other, the keyboard players dressed in contemporary jeans. Perhaps the cultural artifice worked best at its quietest moment, in the ode to “A Bowler Hat.” Manjiro, a peasant turned samurai who personified cultural resistance, was pitted against Kayama...