Those of you who have been following my journey from theatre-goer to critic would know that Anchuli Felicia King’s White Pearl holds a special place in my journey as a writer. It was the play that started it all for me. It was also the first time I truly disliked a work of theatre and had the gall to write down why. As a result, I was eager to see what King’s new commission as Sydney Theatre Company’s Patrick White fellow would deliver – and I was absolutely floored, in the best way.
Where White Pearl tried to do too much and its role as a social text was unclear, The Poison of Polygamy redefines the epic Australian story with a singular fierceness and clarity of vision that will likely inspire generations of minority Australian playwrights for years to come. It is everything that I want from an enriched, representative theatre landscape and more.
King demonstrates a much matured restraint – to address the position of Chinese migrants in the racial pecking order...
Based on Ely Finch’s translation of Wong Shee Ping’s novel of the same name, The Poison of Polygamy is a moralistic saga that details the historical beginnings of the Chinese diaspora in Australia. Ping’s original text was serialised in the Melbourne newspaper the Chinese Times over 53 instalments and is touted as the “first classical Chinese novel in the West.” King’s play is similarly structured across two acts, each act covering one chapter of 7-10 verses.
The story follows Huang Shangkang, also known as Sleep Sick, (Shan-Ree Tan, The One) who after squandering all his money away on his opium addiction, sends himself and his barren wife Maa (Merlynn Tong, Golden Blood) into poverty. In the depths of their despair he receives an offer from Maa’s cousin Pan (the charming and poignant Gareth Yuen) to join the Victorian gold rush in Australia. On passage by boat to Australia he meets fellow countrymen Ching, the hard worker (Ray Chong Nee); Chan, the virtuous (Silvan Rus); and Song, the poet (also Yuen).
King emboldens the text’s allegories with witty, conversational and modern humour to highlight each character’s position on the moral spectrum. She quickly demonstrates that compared to his friends’ collective integrity and righteousness, Sleep Sick is a greedy narcissist. This character flaw comes into effect against the historical, social, and political context of the gold rush era – a time when Chinese migrants were imposed with extra taxes and discrimination at the hands of authorities. This racial bias becomes the complication in Sleep Sick’s pursuit of the Australian dream. When Sleep Sick’s earnings are threatened, his innate nature comes to the forefront, and he repeatedly makes decisions for the betterment of himself over his community and his family. His path towards debauchery leads him to take a second wife, the immoral Tsiu Hei (Kimie Tsukakoshi). Tsiu Hei, enraged by her own oppression, embodies lust, greed, envy, wrath and pride – leaving behind a path of destruction so great that even the morally virtuous must endure an unjust fate.
King demonstrates a much matured restraint in her second Australian play – going as far as to address the position of Chinese migrants in the racial pecking order, and their complicity in the structural disempowerment of First Nations people – but never clouding the central story with subplots. Her modern reckoning also explores the unintended impacts of the gold rush on the surrounding soil and ecosystem, expanding the concept of Polygamy to teach a more global, environmental lesson about man’s insatiable greed to own, take, infiltrate and destroy for their own material gain.
The remastering of the epic requires an epic production, and director Courtney Stewart harnesses collaboration to deliver production elements that surprise and entrance to resounding perfection.
Stewart and designer James Lew use a minimalist theatre in-the-round, with the actors below on the ground and the audience on all four sides. This creates an easy flow of energy. Combined with King’s narrator (also Shan-Ree Tan), who between verses often asks the audience questions and laments “that was not rhetorical”, creates a sense of community, an anti-colonial sensibility that we are all on this journey together. Tan is inviting and engaging as narrator, his double duty allows him to imbue Sleep Sick with a despicable yet unassuming foolishness that is alarmingly relatable. His sparring dynamic with Tsukakoshi works particularly well. Although she over-dramatises in places where she means to deliver rage, Tsukakoshi is balanced by the tone of his indifference. Chong Nee, Rus and Yuen deliver a charming camaraderie as the moral heart of the text, and Stewart builds on the collective by directing them up stairs into the audience where they tussle and tease through King’s rhythmic dialogue.
The most visually captivating collaboration is the one between Stewart’s direction, Lew’s design and the choreography from Bangarra’s Deborah Brown. Frequently brought onto the minimalist set are six red pillars on wheels, one for each actor. Brown brings these pillars to life, using synchronised, repetitive choreographed sequences to leave us in awe at the symbolic rocking of a ship and the creation of a grand visual metaphor for the play’s final pivotal scenes. The choreography works well with the lighting design by Ben Hughes and sound design by Guy Webster, which creates suspense and foreboding. Elements such as black-outs and employing of the stages’ two opposing entries are frequently used to create Maa’s nightmares, foreshadow the entry of Tsiu Hei, and direct the narrator’s commentary to the arena.
This visually rich play from Anchuli Felicia King and Courtney Stewart redefines the Australian epic as an all-encompassing, collective journey through a lost piece of Australia’s cultural history. Not to be missed.
The Poison of Polygamy plays at STC's Wharf 1 Theatre, Walsh Bay, from June 8 to July 15, 2023. Tickets range from $54-$104 and you can snap them up over here.
