Theatre in Review: Laowang (Primary Stages/59E59)

	Wai Ching Ho. Photo: James Leynse

Laowang is the kind of play you can pick at endlessly -- the author, Alex Lin, tosses a little of everything into a tumultuous ninety minutes -- but you can't mistake its vigor, comic energy, and knack for surprise revelations. Previously known for her work onstage, Lin makes a writing debut that makes one eager to see what she does next.

Meet A-Poh (that's "grandmother" in Cantonese), a tough old lady who for decades ran a successful restaurant in downtown New York. A true American success story, she didn't stop at putting her resentful grandchildren to work, even installing Steven, the middle child, as head chef at age twelve. (And you thought The Bear's Carmy Berzatto had problems.) A-Poh is now retired, the restaurant closed, and the building (which she owns) is crumbling. Then, in slithers Wesley Chiu, a serpentine real estate agent, who offers her two million dollars for the building. A-Poh wants eight million. Is this the art of the deal? Wesley doesn't say no...

Soon, all three grandchildren are racing to A-Poh's side: Amy, a high-powered lawyer and helicopter mother ("Did she have her kid on hold this entire time?" another character asks during a fraught phone conference); Steven, a joyless, gay endocrinologist ("I was young back then. I only needed Botox for my TMJ"); and Lai-Fa, better known as Lily, whose chosen career, social work, makes her the object of universal scorn among her loved ones. A-Poh's news is controversial, with the greedy Amy and Steven furious to learn that Lai-Fa is to be the sole beneficiary, possibly because she alone respects the restaurant's legacy. (When her siblings smirk at the idea of a Chinese menu that includes macaroni and cheese, she shouts them down with "We got a three-star review in the New York Times!")

Then A-Poh, who is teetering on the edge of dementia, has an episode in which she becomes afraid of Lai-Fa; next, she disappears altogether. Meanwhile, Amy and Steven cook up a plan to share power of attorney over A-Poh; they seem unstoppable until Wesley intervenes. It's worth noting that he will stop at nothing, including making passes at Amy and Steven, to disrupt their plans.

If this plot strikes you as familiar, I will note that Laowang has sometimes been subtitled "A Chinatown King Lear." And before it is over, we will see A-Poh wandering her very own blasted heath, if that's the word I want for the neighborhood around Canal and Mott Streets. In any case, Lin has a grand time ringing changes on Shakespeare's plot. She also packs a lot into a compact running time, including the grim details of A-Poh's early years in America, Wesley's long-held grudge against A-Poh (which is not without reason), and his dirty scheme to nab the building for the price of one dollar.

Indeed, it's all a little too much. The script is a kind of sketch-comedy-meets-family-car crash, and you can get whiplash as Lin moves from spoofing Amy and Steven to delving into the stark details of cognitive decline and legal manipulations. The director, Joshua Kahan Brody, might have toned down the scenes of Wesley wooing Amy and Steven, which seem to come from another, much more farcical, play; instead, he lets them rip, adding to the jarringly dissonant tone.

Still, such familiar faces as Cindy Cheung (as the frosty, controlling, unhappily married Amy) and Jon Norman Schneider (a bundle of neuroses and resentments as Steven), have their moments. Daisuke Tsuji's Wesley and Amy Keum's Lai-Fa are worthwhile contributions, too. Towering over the action is Wai Ching Ho, whose tough-loving A-Poh is not to be crossed, even when she isn't sure where she is and who is speaking to her.

The production benefits immensely from Wilson Chin's smashing set design, using slanted walls and a collage of Chinatown signage to suggest the restaurant in extremis; a half-height, Brechtian curtain can be pulled in to suggest other locations. Tina McCartney's costumes quickly sketch in various time frames and facilitate each actor in playing multiple roles. Reza Behjat's lighting (especially his color washes and the LED bars on the upstage wall) and Nicholas Drashner's original music and sound design (most notably his evocation of New York street sounds) are solid contributions, as well.

If Laowang is marked by rookie errors, it also brings to our attention a fresh new voice with something to say. In giving her work a showcase, Primary Stages is doing its job. --David Barbour