AI May (愛.能), a captivating new show by Embodi Theatre, delves into themes of grief, love, and artificial intelligence. Written and directed by Amy Chien-Yu Wang, this bilingual production transcends cultural barriers and invites audiences on a heartfelt journey of loss and healing in a world where technology is rapidly evolving, but human emotions—especially grief—remain as complex as ever.
Set in the not-so-distant future of Brisbane in 2035, AI May follows Mrs. Jasmine Chen as she navigates the unimaginable grief of losing her 21-year-old daughter, May Chen. The play opens with the tragic event that claims May's life, plunging Mrs. Chen into a world of solitude, uncertainty, and anguish. As she attempts to cope, she is gifted an AI robot that resembles May—'a humanoid grieving companion' designed by May's engineer boyfriend, Jeremy. As the lines between reality and AI begin to blur, we confront the ethical dilemmas posed by this evolving technology in our lives. Can a machine truly replicate human affection? Is it possible to artificially manufacture emotion? Wang's writing beautifully weaves together the personal struggles of the characters with these overarching societal themes.
The five characters are richly developed, each embodying the diverse experiences within the Asian migrant community. Clarise Ooi shines in her dual role as May and AI May. As human May, she portrays a conflicted young woman torn between her mother’s traditional values and her own aspirations and desire for independence. In her portrayal as AI May, Clarise Ooi achieves an almost eerie precision in her robotic movements. The emotionless, yet oddly sweet, voice brings to mind Baymax from Big Hero 6 or Janet from The Good Place. Her presence on stage feels both familiar and unsettling—she looks like May, speaks like her, but there’s an uncanny hollowness to her that sharply contrasts with the lively human May depicted in flashbacks and recordings. Even in playful moments, like when AI May attempts to smile or slouch at Mrs. Chen's request, Clarise remains in character without fail. Her ability to seamlessly transition between the dual personas - May's defiant nature and AI May's empty artificiality - is a testament to her versatility and is a marvel to watch.
Anna Yen brings an impactful performance as Mrs. Jasmine Chen, a stoic widow grappling with her remorse, her identity, and her purpose in the wake of her daughter's passing. Her sorrow is palpable through every movement—from tearing apart the death certificate to tenderly holding her daughter's possessions, to carrying her weariness in her stride. A particularly poignant moment has Mrs. Chen enveloping herself in May's bedsheet—almost suffocating herself—to symbolise both her overwhelming sorrow and the immense expectations she had imposed on her daughter. Throughout the play, Anna remains on stage, often crumpling to the floor in despair while the rest of the play (and life) continues on around her. Even amidst her grief, Mrs. Chen’s exasperation with modern technology spark moments of humour, including AI brooches that monitor your health 24/7 and frustrating interactions with virtual assistants after asking them a simple question.
Justin Ryan adds complexity to the narrative as Jeremy, May's love interest and the robotics engineer who designs AI May. His motivations, at first, seem purely altruistic—wanting to help Mrs. Chen cope by providing her with a version of May she can talk to. However, as the play progresses, it becomes clear that Jeremy, too, is trapped in his own grief. His dependence on technology to "fix" problems reflects Mrs. Chen's desperate attempts to retain authority over her daughter's very existence. Meanwhile, KeZhen Yi infuses the supporting roles of Mrs. Lin and Dr. Tung with delightful energy, offering much-appreciated comic relief. Her performance as Mrs. Lin prompts deeper reflection on the importance of mental health discussions. On the other hand, Dr. Tung's arc underscores the challenges (and opportunities) that arise with technological advancements, obsolescence, and adjustment.
The writing of AI May is terrific in its ability to bounce between humour and heartache, which keeps everyone deeply captivated throughout the show. Even Mrs. Chen delivers dry humour that lands well through her blunt remarks and no-nonsense attitude, particularly in her exchanges with the automated government departments. Through a series of flashbacks, we also witness how Mrs. Chen's overbearing nature affected her relationship with May. Their story beautifully captures the tension that can exist between a mother's well-intentioned guidance and a daughter's yearning for independence. Throughout the production, we see the struggle within Mrs. Chen as she navigates her traditional upbringing while trying to understand the modern Australian world that May inhabits.
Despite some tech issues early on in the performance, the cast handled the situation with such professionalism that it never broke the atmosphere. In fact, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, with the audience rooting for the cast's smooth recovery on opening night. The real-time Mandarin and English surtitles projected on the back wall kept everyone engaged and helped bridge any language gaps. Plus, the lack of an the interval was a smart decision, as it maintained the momentum of the story.
The stage design is an eye-catching fusion of futuristic elements and minimalist style. You'll see some interactive projections showcasing videos of memories connected to May, beautifully merging the physical and digital realms. Every scene flows effortlessly with carefully crafted sound and lighting changes, keeping the emotional journey of the play alive. The angled, expansive stage design allows for fluid movement for the actors. The engineer’s pod, where Jeremy creates AI May, serves as both a technological hub and a metaphor for his isolation and disconnection. Plus, the use of augmented reality (AR) glasses and voice-activated systems immerses the audience in a near-future scenario that is both plausible and darkly comedic.
In our tech-driven society, AI May invites us to take a step back and appreciate the importance of human and emotional connection. It compels us to think about our own relationships and the ways in which we cope with loss. The play raises a thought-provoking question: if we could recreate the likeness of a loved one in the future, is it ethical or emotionally healthy to do so?
Running at PIP Theatre from October 17 - 27, AI May (愛.能) stands as a powerful testament to the art of storytelling, resonating deeply with anyone who has ever loved and lost. For tickets and further details, visit piptheatre.org/ai-may
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