Maybe the Real Banana Was the Friends We Made Cry Along the Way
Review of Make Banana Cry at On the Boards
Written by TeenTix Newsroom Writer Milo Miller and edited by Teen Editorial Staff Member Audrey Gray
At On the Boards’ show Make Banana Cry, the audience is part of the stage. It is an uncomfortably post-modern, avante-garde performance disguised as a simple dance and fashion show, set on a runway stage. Performers strut down paths patterned with Buddhist swastikas, in various states of dress and undress, holding a collection of props and using them in different ways. Sometimes they march slowly—sometimes to the point of unmoving—and sometimes they are explosively radiant in their color, movement, and expressiveness. Under the helm of producer/performer power duo Andrew Tay and Stephen Thompson, the six performers are accompanied by an ever-changing set of soundtracks, consisting of everything from Miss Saigon to frantic pop songs to what seems to be the rhythmic beating of helicopter propellers. This collection of sounds and cues is not random but very intentional, for the show is meant to be an out-of-the-box method for paralyzing a largely white audience with symbols and themes commonly associated with the appropriation of Asian cultures. The auditory design and wild costume choices enhance the discomfort put upon the audience. However, as the show experiments with imagination, it also discovers that entertainment and creativity do not always go hand in hand.
Upon walking into the theater, audience members are handed plastic foot covers so their shoes don’t scuff the stage; these remain on for the entirety of the performance. Then, the audience examines various items such as Chinese checkerboards and towering sculptures of oversized cup noodle packages before taking their seats. The audience then sits in silence as the performance slowly begins, and then rapidly escalates. The performers march, run, or crawl down the runway toting a variety of different props and wearing strange costumes that bend the definition of clothes. The costumes are continuously weird and eccentric—sometimes coherently so and sometimes like a jumble of the strangest outfits ever worn. The actors confront, speak to, and hand things to audience members, who are scattered around in clusters of rows throughout the stage. The goal of the actors throughout these interactions is to challenge the audience’s beliefs and ideas via motifs. However, the boldness, force, enthusiasm, and nakedness of the performers often serve less as vehicles for metaphor and more so as a visceral shock to the “universal Western prejudice” mentioned by the show’s program. As the show veers off the rails, the performers’ goals are put on display: to illustrate a history of racism against Asian cultures and to boast their own Asian-ness in pride. The show’s themes are pleasantly startling but the execution of them is ultimately unsustainable.