Eliza Stanhope (Malka Wallick, left) with Wong Chin Foo (Whit K. Lee) in Richard Chang’s Citizen Wong.
Richard Chang mixes history and fiction in Citizen Wong to tell the story of Wong Chin Foo, the nineteenth-century Chinese-American journalist, activist, performer, and lecturer who fought for equal rights for Chinese-Americans and to dispel pernicious, racist stereotypes about Chinese people and culture. Presented by Pan Asian Repertory, Citizen Wong is co-directed by Ernest Abuba and Chongren Fan and features a cast of six, with the actors playing multiple characters, including historical personages or those inspired by such. The work is ambitious and timely, explicitly drawing connections to the present-day rise in anti-Asian bigotry.
Shing Chung (left) as Tom Lee, “the de facto mayor of Chinatown,” with Wong.
Citizen Wong opens with Wong (Whit K. Lee) performing as the Monkey King in a theater piece in the grandiose Chinese opera style. As he takes off his Monkey King mask and colorful robe (costume design by Karen Boyer) to applause from the audience, he’s wearing what Chang describes as a “hybrid Chinese-Western outfit,” demonstrating his own cultural hybridity as “the first Chinese American” (as one biography dubs him). But to the talent manager (Nick Jordan) who accosts him after the performance and beclowns himself with his ignorance, it is Wong’s otherness that is to be emphasized.
The case is different with Eliza Stanhope (Malka Wallick), “daughter of Congressman Leigh Stanhope, the railroad builder,” as the play rather clumsily informs the audience. Eliza, despite her parents’ social and political ambitions, is unconventional at heart, and is genuinely interested in Wong and Chinese culture. She finds her own belief in women’s rights taken seriously by Wong and mirrored in his commitment to social justice. Her father, Leigh Stanhope (Scott Klavan), based on California businessman and politician Leland Stanford, holds presidential ambitions, and is fine putting up with Wong’s presence as a cultural curiosity, but forbids Eliza from seeing him once it becomes clear that she actually likes and values Wong.
The play ranges from the 1870s to the 1890s, in a series of short scenes, on a stage largely devoid of props, with several moving screens (set design by You-Shin Chen), and with the occasional aid of projections, such as historical photographs or newspaper headlines, and audio of audiences chanting at rallies (projections by Lacey Erb; sound design by Joseph Wolfslau). Leslie Smith’s expressive lighting design is a highlight of the production.
“The play ranges from the 1870s to the 1890s, in a series of short scenes, on a stage largely devoid of props.”
Eliza makes a very unhappy, and essentially arranged marriage to Vincent Wells (Jordan), though she later has a child by Wong, explaining the child’s appearance by saying that Wells’s “ancestors are from the Caucasus Mountains. So he says it’s not strange that some of his relatives have Asiatic features.”
The personal journeys of the characters are paralleled by the political journey, from Wong’s projects and battles in Chinatown, his fight against the development and arrival of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 (which prevented the immigration of Chinese workers), and his conflict with Irish American labor leader Denis Kearney. Through it all, Wong, in Lee’s portrayal, is steadfast, relentless, and unwavering in his beliefs. The play attempts to complicate Wong, to make him a flawed hero rather than a saint, mentioning connections with organized crime and a family in China he has seemingly abandoned. But mostly he is the charismatic dispenser of righteous indignation and moral clarity.
Eliza with her husband, Vincent Wells (Nick Jordan). Photographs by John Quincy Lee.
The story is important and relevant, as Wong is someone who should be more widely known. Unfortunately, the significant historical research behind the play is not yet fully integrated into the story or the characters; rather, it is conveyed through awkward asides of factoids and unnatural expository dialogue. The characters also sometimes use period terminology in discussing issues of race and gender, but at other times it sounds more like 2022 than 1882; this kind of slippage would be fine—provocative even—if intentional, but again, it is in the vein of explaining talking points to the audience rather than drawing these issues out through naturalistic dialogue and character.
The arc of the story is unclear and would have benefited from isolating an overriding issue to focus on, rather than rushing through scenes on an array of topics that dutifully cover every aspect of Wong’s biography. As a result, the love story is underdeveloped and feels perfunctory instead of crucial.
Let’s hope that further development of this project can address some of these issues, as the play tells a story that has such deep resonance today.
Citizen Wong runs through May 1 at The Mezzanine at A.R.T. / New York Theatres (502 W 53rd St.). Evening performances are Tuesday through Saturday at 7 p.m.; matinees are on Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday at 2:30 p.m. For tickets, visit panasianrep.org.
