American Hwangap, Pinoy kimchi

MANILA, Philippines - The Korean community in the Philippines, as well as Filipinos who have more than a passing fancy for things Korean, have something to watch out for in the month of September, with the staging by Tanghalang Pilipino of “American Hwangap,” a play by Korean American Lloyd Suh, both the original and the Filipino adaptation.

Written in 2006, American Hwangap tells the story of a Korean American patriarch’s homecoming for his 60th birthday after years of being estranged from family, and the attendant dysfunctional dynamic that ensues in the darkly comic situation.

Suh, who is turning 35 this month, tells of the play’s origins: “In 2005 was the 60th anniversary of Korea’s independence from Japan, and it was not celebrated the way I thought it would be.”

In Korea, the 60th birthday is a benchmark, the Hwangap, and the play is Suh’s way of celebrating that milestone by portraying a family that, like Korea, is divided, and how they cope with making things whole again. The children of the prodigal father react differently to their old man’s coming home to them in America from an extended furlough in Korea, as does the by now independent wife who has survived well enough alone with her kids all these years.

Suh denies that the cross-cultural currents and ramifications are an attempt to make a statement on the Korean American experience. He says that would be too ambitious, as a Korean growing up in Los Angeles would have a totally different mindset from one growing up in southern Indiana, as was the case with Suh.

He says a Korean American experience would be too broad for one play, so he chooses to focus on the personal, “which has a greater chance of being accessible.”

The staging of American Hwangap in Manila has been nearly two years in the making, with various collaborators including the Ma-yi Theater founded mostly by Filipino playwrights nearly two decades ago, and the Lark Theater that has brought the play to San Francisco.

The Filipino version was translated by US-based Joi Barrios, which Suh is comfortable with as the writer/translator is a friend. “She’s done a remarkable job,” he says, meaning Barrios’ working on the strange turns of phrase and use of code-switching. “You translate the tone, not just the content.”

Is he uneasy that something might get lost in translation?

The whole process seeks to create a balance between learning what a play is and knowing what the play decides it wants to be, the playwright says.

“You have to leave room for opportunity,” he says, which means actor, director, designer all have their own reading of the material at hand, and the rest is just chemistry and innovation, the play itself as it unfolds onstage becoming more than the sum of its parts.

It is the third time Hwangap is being produced, and each one is different though still the same play he had written.

Then there is the unavoidable projection of the author to his characters. Friends say that all five characters in Hwangap remind them somewhat of Lloyd, kind of vaguely reminiscent of the playwright. Which, even the psychoanalysts would say, is only natural.

From Indiana where he grew up as a second generation Korean American, Suh went to New York to study theater for post-graduate training. He soon won a grant from an Asian American writers group and found himself working with the Ma-yi theater, where he would meet David Henry Huang, the Filipino Chinese author of “Golden Child” also staged by TP some two years ago, and Cris Millado, director of the Filipino Hwangap.

How is it being a playwright in America?

Suh says, “Competition is friendly, the writing community makes everybody better.”

The Asian-American writers in Ma-yi meet regularly to workshop each other’s latest works in progress, and during theater festivals stage a series of short plays marathon style, such as “Myth America” in 2007, where Suh was one of several playwrights featured.

As for the current mania for Korean telenovelas and assorted pop culture such as boy and girl bands, Suh says he’s not sure what it is, but “it has such an appeal because it is an alternative” to the commonly accepted Hollywood fare.

“There’s a joy to it, and that’s a good part of the appeal.”

He also says there’s a hunger throughout the world for stories that speak to a generation grown tired of Americana, and that address issues that never did occur as important or relevant enough to the west.

Are all his plays light comedies? Suh begs to disagree.

“All my plays are serious at the core, at heart,” he says. Even if a play is serious, there’s always an element of humor, which can only help get across whatever the playwright is trying to say.

“If you want to illustrate something painful, you illustrate the opposite,” Suh says, underlining that through humor, you can better understand the serious side of things.

This yin/yan dynamic is evident in American Hwangap.

Another play of his he is excited about is “Happy End of the World” (formerly “Happy End to Everything”), which was written for children. The gist of it being what keeps kids awake at night as they imagine various dreadful scenarios for our poor planet, and how the personas go to outer space to escape the inevitable end of the world as we know it (and the kids feel fine anyway).

And though Suh doesn’t have any kids yet, his wife works in a publishing house that puts out children’s books.

During his weeklong visit here last August, Suh looked in on TP’s rehearsals for Hwangap, went to UP to dialogue with other theater people and planned to stroll through the burgeoning Koreatown in Malate. He’ll be back last week of September to watch the play, both versions, where he will be with David Henry Hwang and other writers and stage workers from Lark and Ma-yi theaters. He doesn’t know Tagalog, but through TP and Barrios Tagalog may get to know him.

Eventually he hopes to write a play designed exclusively for the Philippines, but wouldn’t mind if his other plays can find an audience here. Not farfetched, considering the past success of Sandara Park, “Jewel in the Palace” and Super Junior.

Maybe “Not all Korean Girls can Fly” or “He Cry Boy see He sad.” It all depends on how Filipinos receive the homecoming Hwangap, the patriarch wanting to stake his claim back inside the old kulambo.

American Hwangap is on stage at the CCP Tanghalang Aurelio Tolentino every weekend until Oct. 3, with performances on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. Call Tanghalang Pilipino at 832-3661 or visit www.tanghalangpilipino.com for details.