The first five minutes or so of Gwendoline Yeo's one-person production introduces most of the audience to an unfamiliar world, in a show beautifully produced for the stage. High hopes ensue. There's a joke on the audience as she begins by telling a horrific tale of a struggling emigration by boat from Singapore; the actor, garbed in Asian silks, movingly accompanies herself on the Chinese zither while telling us how her sister was shot during the escape. Then, in an instant, Yeo laughingly recants because in real life she and her family arrived, intact, in San Francisco via United Airlines. She then describes the inability of Singaporeans to give or receive compliments, gives us a taste of "Singlish," and tells of her mother's insistence that showing one's teeth during laughter is vulgar.
But from there the story turns into yet another one-person recounting of a distant father and overly strict mother. And though this theme might on occasion work in solo shows, here it seems like a slap in the face to her parents, as she turns her back on their culture and wishes. And although elliptical storytelling works fine when one is playing Mark Twain or Emily Dickinson, those who have never heard of Yeo before this might wonder what happened to her after the events she describes. Yes, Yeo can offer clear depictions of her parents, brother and sister, schoolmates, teacher, and boss. Yes, there's humor and pathos in her recollections. Yes, listening to her musicianship is a treat. But the upshot is a theatrical "So what?"
Director Mark St. Amant elegantly adds texture and visual interest to the evening, which unfolds on a much-appreciated raked stage, covered in squares of carpets that delineate the playing spaces. David B. Marling's sound design is a show in itself—including creaking floors, wielded canes, and clattering chopsticks that suddenly stop as bad news is delivered. But at a few points Yeo spends too long changing costumes, affording audience members the time and inclination to glance at our watches.
Presented by Gaalan Michaelson and 11:11 Productions at the El Centro Theatre, 804 N. El Centro Ave., Hollywood. Nov. 20–Dec. 19. Thu.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m. (Dark Thu., 8 p.m., Nov.25.) (800) 838-3006 or www.brownpapertickets.com