Colonialism is Terrible, But Phở is Delicious
Reviewed by F. Kathleen Foley
Chance Theater
Through April 30
RECOMMENDED
In Colonialism is Terrible, But Phở is Delicious, now at the Chance Theater in Anaheim (the show, labeled as a “Rolling World Premiere” has been previously produced,) playwright Dustin H. Chinn uses a deceptively simple subject – the Vietnamese noodle dish, phở — as the launching pad for an incisive play about Western hubris, the endemic tendency of outsiders to set themselves above the regional cultures they so blithely appropriate.
Chinn was supposedly inspired by a controversial Gourmet Magazine’s how-to video – narrated by a Western chef – detailing the proper way to eat phở. He has expressed his displeasure, not in strident outrage, but through a light-hearted cheekiness that, nonetheless, carries a one-two political punch.
The play is structured in triptych form – three scenes transpiring in different time periods, the first in 1889 French Indochina (which encompassed the country of Vietnam); the second in 1999 Vietnam; the third in present-day Brooklyn.
When characters are of different ethnicities, speaking different languages, it’s always a challenge to believably reconcile those languages, dramatically speaking, and Chinn has employed an unusual device to accomplish this. As the supertitles projected on the upstage wall inform us, the French characters in the first scene will speak in farcical French accents, the Vietnamese characters in standard American English. That conceit carries, imaginatively, into the second scene, with the Vietnamese characters conversing in standard American dialect, while the Americans speak in “Amurican” Southern dialect. In present-day Brooklyn, the dialogue is conducted entirely in English.
In 1889 Indochina, Madame Gagnier (Chloé Gay Brewer), the domineering French mistress of the house, has ordered her Vietnamese steward Nguyễn (Dustin Vuong Nguyen) to recruit a new chef but makes it clear that she wants strictly French cuisine, none of that “lowly” indigenous cookery. Nguyễn produces a local cook (Hannah Mariah), but she’s a feisty woman who is determined to display her locally sourced skills. Meanwhile, resident French chef Guillaume (Casey Long) has to admit that this recalcitrant newbie’s exotic addition to his pot-au-feu really kicks the dish up a notch.
It’s all makes for an intriguing but somewhat slow start, encumbered by director Oánh Nguyễn’s decision to have the steward character declaim many of his lines from the periphery of the stage — which may help with the audience’s sightlines but seems an odd staging choice.
The second scene takes us to Ho Chi Minh City, where gifted cook Mừi (Mariah) serves phở from a modest street cart. When Quang (Nguyen), a cheerful fixer from the local international hotel, brings a couple of American visitors (Brewer and Long) to sample her fare, Mừi eventually learns that these clueless but strangely inquisitive tourists are actually an advance team for Burger King, which is expanding into the area — an incursion that Mừi fears may seriously disrupt the local food culture — and her cherished way of life.
Finally, in present-day Brooklyn, food critic Julie (Brewer) brings her Vietnamese friend Danielle (Mariah) to a much-touted restaurant for lunch, but when Danielle learns that a bowl of phở costs almost fifty bucks, she hits the roof. And when the waiter, Sam (Nguyen), refuses to serve the phở with the typical condiments, she’s even more outraged and insists on speaking to the pretentiously condescending Western chef, Chis (Long.)
What follows is a facile, funny verbal clash, as Chris defiantly cites the hard road he has traveled to reach this pitch of pho perfection, while the equally defiant Danielle defends the traditional way of serving the dish. It’s a biting exchange that raises the microcosmic — the requested bottle of hoisin sauce — into a macrocosmic philosophical examination of cultural traditions and imperatives.
The way that Chinn broaches the language gap is certainly ingenious but requires a broadly farcical tone that, while engaging, can also verge on the overblown. It’s in the third scene, stripped of that device, that we see actors and director in full comedic force — and a powerhouse combination they are. Standout design elements, most notably Kara Ramlow’s lighting, further contribute to this high-spirited and novel entertainment.
Chance Theater @ Bette Aitken Theater Arts Center on the Cripe Stage, 5522 E. La Palma Ave., Anaheim. Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 3 and 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; through April 30. www.ChanceTheater.com or call (888) 455-4212. Running time 1 hour 30 minutes with no intermission.
