THEATRE
Adapted by Diana Nguyen from Alice Pung’s novel
At Sumner, MTC Southbank Theatre until Sept 10, 2022
Reviewer: Kate Herbert
Stars: *** (3)
This review published only on this blog. KH
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| Ngoc Phan, Chi Nguyen, Fiona Chou, GEmma Chua-Tran, Jenny Zhou-photo Jeff Busby |
It is difficult to translate the nuances and complexities of a novel into a stage script and production and, in the case of this adaptation of Alice Pung’s Laurinda, a work of Young Adult Fiction, any subtlety is lost at the outset.
After a 35-minute delay on opening night because of “technical problems”, the play begins with barely controlled hysteria as the lead character Lucy Lam (Ngoc Phan), now in her late 30s, surges onstage in a lather because she has discovered that her award for teaching excellence will be presented by a former school colleague and renowned bully, Brodie Newberry (Gemma Chua-Tran), now youngest Chief Justice in Australia; an unlikely achievement at her age, but let’s suspend our disbelief.
Lucy is from a Vietnamese-Australian family, lives in a working-class suburb and attends a high school in the same area. At 15 she wins the coveted Equal Access Scholarship to a prestigious and exclusive private girls’ college, but she soon realises that her new life is not all roses. She meets mild-mannered Katie (Fiona Choi), the bigoted, headmistress Mrs Grey (Georgina Naidu), and supercilious Brodie who leads a trio of spoilt brats known as The Cabinet who rule the school, bulling vulnerable students and even some teachers. They come from privilege and a long line of equally unpleasant prior Cabinet members.
Linh (Chua-Tran), Lucy’s perky, rebellious “other self”, drags 38-year-old Lucy back to her Laurinda days to firstly relive her awful schooldays then enable Lucy to find the boldness and spark that empowered her to confront the bullies.
The play will strike terror into the hearts of anyone who was bullied at school for their culture, class, education, language, accent, academic failings, eccentric skills, obsessions – anything. It is an interesting that this production coincides with Looking For Alibrandi, another current production based on a novel set in the 90s about a teenage girl’s struggle with adolescence, school and juggling two cultures although, in Alibrandi’s case, her family is Italian-Australian rather than Asian-Australian. The story might be vastly different if written about 2022 when students in many privileged private schools are predominantly from Asian- and Indian-Australian backgrounds.
The performance style is heightened, and Phan is credible and brings emotional range to Lucy, effectively navigating her shifts from accomplished to vulnerable and vehemently outspoken. One of the most compelling elements is Lucy’s struggle to firstly fit in with the non-Asian girls and to comprehend the privileged school culture and its expectations. Despite her academic prowess, she is dumped unceremoniously into a remedial English class. When Lucy finally feels accepted by the Cabinet, she begins to feel ashamed of her family, their poverty and class and perhaps even their race.
In a lesson for the young readers who were the target audience for the novel, Lucy eventually rebels, turning her rage about the bigotry, prejudice and general bullying behaviour into a scornful tirade against the culprits. Thankfully, the victims of the bullying join her in putting the trio in their places.
The production incorporates visual imagery effectively and the humour amused the audience on opening night. However, the episodic script by Diana Nguyen with director Petra Kalive is thin, converting complex issues of race and prejudice into simplistic narrative. In its attempt to encapsulate the multiple threads of Pung’s novel, it leaves many scenes feeling short, shallow or unfinished. The play reduces scenes to snapshots, an example being Lucy’s mum’s respiratory illness and resulting hospitalisation that flit past in minutes with no detail or clear explanation.
The incorporation of Vietnamese language is welcome, giving Lucy’s family home, mother and father authenticity. However, it is difficult for non-speakers to follow the interactions without the inclusion of sufficient English within the dialogue to make the Vietnamese content clearer.
The characters, apart from Lucy, are stereotypes so the capable cast cannot create fully developed, three-dimensional characters. The dialogue is often adolescent and lacking nuance, so the actors are frequently reduced to shouting. The non-Asian characters – students, teacher and parents – are all caricatures that are depicted with contempt and the same casual racism that is decried in the play when directed towards Asian characters.
Laurinda raises plenty of topical issues including racism and bullying and does so with humour, but the play fails to do justice to Pung’s source material which grapples with these important issues.
Kate Herbert
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| Ngoc Phan, Fiona Choi-photo Jeff Busby |
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