'Scenes from a Yellow Peril' by Nathan Joe, presented by The Reaction Theory and BIPOC Arts Australia, was a striking and visceral piece of theatre that tackled racism with unflinching honesty and creativity. Running for 80 minutes without an interval, the show certainly left the audience with much to process, contemplate, and discuss. Directed with a strong vision by Chelsea August and Egan Sun-bin, Nathan Joe’s powerful writing not only captures the frustrations and struggles faced by many but also serves as a vital commentary on the societal norms that still plague us today.
The production, deeply rooted in Asian identity, is a unique cross-cultural work that not only shares stories from Joe's homeland, Aotearoa (NZ), but also resonates with audiences on a universal level. The content warnings were extensive, as this was a production intended to make the audience uncomfortable, to push boundaries, and to leave a lasting impact—and it certainly did.
One of the show's standout features was its knack for blending humour with heavier themes. Right from the start, the audience was encouraged to laugh, even in moments when "you think you shouldn't." The co-directors' vision shone through in every scene, inviting everyone to confront the tough realities of racism and discrimination while still discovering moments of laughter and connection along the way.
The set, featuring a minimalistic design with low wooden blocks, a few crates, flowers, and lugsail for projections, created a lovely canvas for the emotions that unfolded. The costumes began in a traditional style but were gradually stripped down to plain white clothing as the show went on, beautifully reflecting the raw vulnerability of the themes presented.
After an Acknowledgment of Country and Welcome, the cast—Daphne Chen, Chris Nguyen, Peter Wood, and Jazz Zhao—introduced themselves through a Q&A session. Each night featured different questions, offering the audience a glimpse into the personalities and backgrounds of the performers. Chris Nguyen, in particular, stood out with his articulate responses. The Q&A format reappeared midway through the show, with a mix of profound and humorous questions posed to the cast. We were also given a pamphlet, thoughtfully prepared with definitions of words for those who might not be familiar with some vocabulary in the script. It was an inclusive touch that ensured everyone in the audience could fully engage with the material.
The structure of this play was unique in that the actors didn’t portray characters throughout. Instead, they moved through various scenes, each depicting different aspects of the Asian experience. The opening scene, "Rage Poem," kicked off with the question, “Where are you from?” For many, this question is more than just a casual inquiry—it’s a loaded statement that carries assumptions and ignorance, a frustrating question that those born in NZ (or Australia, in our case) have probably encountered way too often. The cast’s perfectly-timed delivery was mesmerising, with their movements fluid and in tune with one another, while a low rumbling sound underscored the dialogue, representing the simmering rage beneath the surface.
Another memorable scene was "A Series of Humiliations," where the cast highlighted common but erroneous assumptions, such as the idea that all Asians are the same. This scene served as a poignant reminder of the incredible diversity within Asian cultures, each characterised by its own unique language, traditions and heritage. The performances here were nuanced, with each actor bringing out the subtle differences in their cultural backgrounds, challenging the monolithic perspective often placed upon them, while uniting against the shared experience of racial stereotyping.
In "Love in the Time of Colonisation," Peter and Daphne delivered a fast-paced scene that was both impressive and intense. Their dialogue flowed rapidly, almost breathless, yet perfectly timed. The scene "You Often Masturbate" brought a mix of discomfort and humour as Jazz and Daphne narrated an adult film scene involving a young Asian schoolgirl and "Mr. Redacted." The scene was designed to provoke, and it did just that—the audience cringed, laughed, and squirmed in their seats. The performers handled the challenging material with grace, ensuring that the dialogue remained clear and impactful despite the audience’s noisy reactions.
The play also addressed the rise in anti-Asian sentiment since 2020, a reality that was painfully familiar to many in the audience. Through personal anecdotes and broader commentary, the cast shared experiences of hatred and racism that might have otherwise gone unnoticed by those not directly affected. It was a reality check, and the affirming nods from the audience, especially those from POC, spoke volumes. One person even softly said “amen” from the back row, a testament to the powerful connection the performers forged with those in attendance.
The scene "Write a Manifesto" was particularly striking. It flipped the script on racial stereotypes, imagining a world where Asian identity was the dominant narrative. The scene was clever, humorous, and insightful—a mirror held up to society that forced the audience to reflect on their own biases and assumptions. As the words of the manifesto scrolled up on the projection, the cast spoke with a searing emotional intensity about the loss of culture, language, and literature that often accompanies migration, particularly with quotes like "How can any immigrant be happy on stolen land?" The monologue that followed was equally gripping, as Chris Nguyen reflected on the sensation of living in a body that doesn’t quite feel like your own.
Each cast member brought their own unique charm to the table. Peter was effortlessly funny and endearing, a naturally warm actor whose comedic timing and unapologetic style were simply wonderful to behold. The women—Daphne and Jazz—are definitely the kind of people I'd love to be friends with; they brought such intensity and relatability to their performances. And Chris' monologue left me too captivated to take notes, so I'll just repeat some of his lines instead: “It’s a strange sensation to be in a body that doesn’t feel like yours. White people call it disassociation. I call it being Asian."
The decision to make the scene "How to End Racism" a blackout was brilliant. It was a stark, inspired reminder of the darkness that still exists in the world, even as we strive for progress. Similarly, the scene where the cast members took on the personas of three different Asians murdered by New Zealanders was devastating. The portrayal of Joe Kum Yung, Mei Fan, and Jae Ygeon Kim—victims of anti-Asian immigration views, custody battles, and neo-Nazi violence—was gut-wrenching and left an indelible mark on the audience.
Jazz Zhao's monologue, beginning with the question “What don’t you like about yourself?” - a question often posed by plastic surgeons, was a masterclass in performance. Her delivery, filled with vivid poetry, was heightened by visceral visuals and sound effects to make it a scene of pure impact. The vocal effects Jazz employed, from breathless gasps to purposeful stuttering and speaking at breakneck speed, added layers to the text that were both haunting and undeniably impressive. Jazz even sang us a song titled "I Cannot Invite My Parents to My Play"; a full-circle moment that brought the themes of the play back to the personal and the familial.
The play concluded with a haunting image—a stranger appearing to guide the cast "home," helping them step away from their troubles and the weight of their experiences. The sound was so intense during this scene that vibrations were felt through the chairs to create a visceral, almost physical connection. As the theatre filled with fog, we heard a brief sound bite from Nathan Joe, the playwright. He reflected on how this play was born in 2018 from a deep need to express what couldn’t be said and how it first reached an audience in 2022. His words served as a reminder that while art has the incredible power to inspire change, it cannot do so alone.
Scenes from a Yellow Peril was an extraordinary piece of theatre—provocative, bold, and deeply necessary. It challenged the audience to confront the realities of racism while also offering moments of hope and humour. Nathan Joe and the entire team behind this production deserve applause for creating a show that will be remembered not just for its content but also for the conversations it ignited.
Warnings: Frequent coarse language, sexual references, depictions of violence, discrimination, racism, use of theatrical haze, dynamic sound including simulated gunshot sounds, strobe lighting, and blackouts. Duration: 80 minutes with no interval.
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