REVIEW: Cambodian Rock Band (Arena Stage)
Preview: Happy New Season! Arena’s kicked off its 2023-24 offerings, their first such set since the retirement of longtime artistic director Molly Smith this past May. The first show from the Southwest Stalwarts this go-around is Cambodian Rock Band, which was due to land on our shores in the comeback season that was 2021-22, yet did not materialize. Very disappointing for me, personally, since I’d been wanting to check this out since it hit New York in 2020. I’m already a fan of Dengue Fever, so anything with their involvement I was bound to check out. So glad that now in 2023, CRB is finally here in the District At long last!
Book/Music: Consider the theatre dichotomy of play and musical. Rock Band here sits squarely on the border. While set to songs of Cambodian-American surf rock outfit Dengue Fever, they rarely serve to move the plot forward the way a traditional integrated musical would. Often instead, we’re treated to scene transitions of hit songs from them or other, obscure Cambodian acts. This isn’t exclusive, and particularly in the second act the music becomes quite integrated into the story. The sonic tag-team of Jane Lui and Matt MacNelly makes a slurry of groovy Hendrixian jams that are enjoyable even if you can’t decipher the noise-tinged Kmher lyrics (not that you necessarily need to, since it’s acted so well). The book is darkly humorous and engrossing, yet suffers from underdevelopment in sections that prevents it from feeling as cohesive as it should. (I do think exploring this show mostly blind does one well, so I won’t spoil much). Act I, set in 2008 Phnom Penh, firstly introduces our primary cast: Cambodian-American Neary, her father Chum, and the narrator. The first act builds up Neary to a certain depth that I felt was unrealized in Act II, as the focus, setting, and tone shifts dramatically. Other characters that gain prominence in the end of Act I, and even further through Act II, deliver far more bang-for-buck of stage time than our initial protagonist of Neary. The events of this act became so independent from the trunk that I had to remind myself that there was still a loose thread after this plot ended, which almost felt nagging at a certain point. The entire back half of the story could be a show all its own, without the family element tied in*. While it does serve to ground the production, it feels like the weakest link of playwright Lauren Yee’s book. She nonetheless proves to be one of the foremost storytellers of this era, and I’m personally excited to see more of her shows produced locally this season. *MINOR SPOILER: Perhaps the ending of this kind of show would be Chum reaching America and it being the birth of Neary, signifying that he’s truly safe. But I’m no playwright, just an opined critic! 7/10
Acting: An all-star cast of talented Asian actors helm this production, often each playing multiple characters. The time changes allow this group to provide tremendous range which is highly appreciated, as each shift brings out new nuances in their performance. Brooke Ishibashi is Neary, the frustrated daughter of Chum who is in Cambodia as part of an NGO prosecuting Khmer Rouge war crimes. While technically the protagonist, as mentioned I felt this role was underdeveloped; nonetheless, Ishibashi makes the most of it, especially as she shifts into 70’s rocker Sothea as part of Chum’s band. Her talents as a rock-and-roll frontwoman are not to be overstated, excellently tying the band’s jive together. Standing out particularly though, are Joe Ngo’s Chum and Francis Jue’s Duch, whose evolutions and deft deliveries are the bedrock of this production. Both are no stranger to their roles, each having performed in previous iterations of the show in San Diego, New York, and elsewhere (Jue even winning a Lortel award for his performance in 2020). Darkness manifests within each; as does glimmers of light. Where these two excel is in their handling of the paths these characters take. Duch is slimy, cynical, and brashly unapologetic of his past, even when confronted against their more innocent beginnings. Chum, inversely, is goofy, affable, and compassionate. Jue’s borderline humorous take on the murderous warmonger is impossible to take your attention away from, even when he’s shocking the audience with casual (real!) images of genocide on a projector. Yet, nothing can overcome Ngo’s peerless turn as Chum. He is introduced to us as a charming if not naive Asian dad, complete with the leather fanny pack and New Balance sneakers. Ngo, in this state, is sublime, and the twangs and pitch shifts of his thick Cambodian accent add depth and care. In fact, I was entirely convinced he was an old Cambodian man offstage. When he appears in Act II as his younger self, I found it hard to believe it was the same actor. More agile, quickly-spoken, and vulnerable, Ngo is incredible in his ability to mold to the scene as the book demands. I’m writing to the Helen Hayes awards as we speak. 10/10
Production: Takeshi Kata’s relatively simple scenes are elevated by the prowess of Linda Cho’s wondrously psychedelic attire and David Weiner’s astute lighting designs. The flowy spectra of Cho’s costumes are a joy to look at without seeming kitschy, and contrast with the later palette of blacks and dreary colors. Meanwhile, director Chay Yew utilizes Weiner’s lighting as blocking, creating stark contrasts in thought and action as the play progresses and shifts from busy, dingy Phnom Penh streets to the stage of the ever-rocking concert that exists in solely in memory, lit aflame by warm spotlights. Lui-MacNelly, as mentioned prior, represent the oft-overlooked 70’s Cambodian rock and roll scene well with their orchestrations; “Sni Bong” has been on my mix since it was on “Welcome to Night Vale” in 2013 (it’s the Weather for episode 21, for interested parties) and it’s great to see it exposed to more audiences! 8/10
VisDev: Program art, while vibrant and painterly, fails to convey what this is actually about. Is it giving “Cambodia”? Yep. Is it giving “rock band”? Yep. Does it hint at any of the deeper, more interesting facets of this show? Not really. Perhaps a greater use of red (and by extension yellow) to hint at the Khmer Rouge’s prominence in the plot; not enough to give it away, but perhaps to connect the idea of a genocidal dictatorship to a rock band, usually diametrically opposed concepts. Made all the more confounding given the second act is basically a self-contained memory play in its own right, with the music all but a background to the darker subject matter. Pre-show staging actually does seem to get this right, though, perhaps accidentally. On a platform on a bare, tiled stage (reminiscent of the DC9 venue on U Street) lies the band’s setup, the only thing beyond is a row of warm orange lights that silhouette the arrangement. Almost like watchful, sinister eyes piercing the darkness, it does create a sense of tension that would follow through the play. 5/10
