The season of light laughter in Court Theatre’s cheery Addington home is over, at least for the time being. Tapping into the community function of theatre, to stimulate thought and, in the best of possible outcomes, achieve refreshed awareness or change, Joseph Graves’ bold direction of this new montage fleshes out an acknowledged voice of Chinese experience in New Zealand. 

Already respected for her expression in many forms of what it means to be a Chinese New Zealander, Lynda Chanwai-Earle fronts us up to the experience of new arrivals here in a fictionalised treatment of the gruesome murder of a Chinese student in 2006 and the wider pain it triggers. 

From the beginning, the comfortable illusion of a different world on stage is dispelled. Ordinary looking folk drift on and about in a grey setting of benches and miscellaneous luggage. Journeying and waiting. Weary acceptance. This much is clear; an intrepid move to work from such a low key beginning. It pays off.

The lively figure of a would-be journalist from Myanmar, who will act as stage manager and commentator, bustles on and sets the play in irrevocable motion. Her own story meshes with the murder we all thought we knew about, to widen the focus of the play to include, by implication, all who venture into a new culture, seeking a better life. 

The journalist is not just a grateful survivor of horrors in her own land and finding refuge in Aotearoa. She provides a rationale for seeking out a host of unpleasant truths, retrospectively, about how the partially decapitated body of the Chinese student, Wen Lin, came to be washing about in the Lyttelton (in real life the Waitemata) Harbour. In the face of her wretched circumstances, her insistent gratitude, delivered to us as direct address, underscores indelibly the cultural differences which texture the play so richly. 

There should have been companionship and support for Wen Lin, only child, ‘Little Emperor’ among his fellow language students. Instead, like many a boastful character from myth and fairy tale, he overstates his family status and sets himself up for extortion even as he plays, parties and falls in love with Kim, a fellow (male) student.

Thus families, including his eventual home-stay family, are drawn into the picture. On both sides of the world we see concerned parents dealing with a generation whose codes and practice are incomprehensible. The parent roles are doubled so that now the play is inviting us to find some universal link for the ideas before us.

The son of the home-stay hosts is romantically linked to the ESOL tutor’s daughter as well as to the drug outlet operating on the student scene … and the knots are tightening. 

The development is managed through a series of sometimes dislocated scenes, with the basic staging dismantled and repositioned as we watch the complicated circumstances of the Wen Lin story advance and be noted by Kauki-Paw, the purposeful journalist, seeker of truth.

At times, although the main plot line is already in our heads, the welter of scenes, albeit presented with absolute honesty, seem to cloud the ideas rather than clarify them. Even in Brechtian terms, where we expect to be distanced from engagement, the ‘less is more’ principle is critical to impact. And the wide stage, including a screen for translation of Chinese or English, according to the speaker, sometimes meant a lack of focus.

Language itself carries a subtle message, not only in its establishment of character, or in pointing up communication difficulties, but in its highlighting of cultural viewpoints. Kauki-Paw, played with almost unnerving intensity by Katlyn Wong, is full of imagery and metaphor, in contrast to more banal transactional language from those she is bound to respect.  

The production is a collaboration between Court Theatre and The Peking University Institute of World Theatre and Film. The strength of the cast and design reflects the breadth of talent and expertise thus made available. As Wen Lin, Ji Zhou from Beijing develops his terrifying role with extraordinary precision while, as his parents, Helene Wong and Stan Chan contribute one of the most moving scenes of helpless isolation in this play, which presents the whole issue so strikingly. 

Shi Li, from the PKU Institute of World Theatre and Film, creates a vicious portrait of the killer, Pete, strongly  supported by Zhiwen Zhao as Kim. The Kiwi link in the tragic chain, Stuart Copeland, is effectively brought to loose-limbed life by Harry McNaughton. As his romantic partner Amy Tung (daughter of the ESOL tutor), JJ Fong works with assurance.

Many roles are doubled, all of them successfully, so that a much wider assemblage than the eight detailed here is set out for our consideration. 

The design team too calls on wide experience and vision. Gu Min Wen’s work in set design has taken her through China and Taiwan and to London. Her design for this production provides a wealth of opportunities for creative arrangement in the spirit of the play while imbuing the whole with a sense of muted despair. Costume, lighting and sound design draw on the tried and true skills and imagination of Pauline Laws and Pam Jones, Joe Hayes and Sean Hawkins respectively. 

This is an indelible and important play, presented with the care and respect it deserves. Its ultimate strength is that it cannot be left behind at the end of the performance.   

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