Creative but disjointed, Elsewhere在别处 struggles to negotiate the story of a typical Chinese student
It is a quirky journey for an audience to revisit a show. I have watched Elsewhere在别处 before the pandemic, back when Camden’s People Theatre hadn’t refurbished yet. At that time, Elsewhere was in its infancy, solely written, directed and performed by Haylin Cai. Now almost four or five years later, the show has progressed to its maturity, while still retains its familiar skeleton.
Elsewhere leads the self-exploration journey of Shuyan, a typical top Chinese student applying for a PhD in psychology in the United States. This decision is somewhat pushed by her father, which she resents. Before meeting Shuyan, we were introduced to Wuhan, the city once at the centre of storm during the pandemic. With a metropolitan view mapped out by examination papers on the back wall and a model of a landmark skyscraper, brilliantly done by Agnes Yeung, we are informed of the city’s rapid development and its enormous student population.
The “city introduction” occurs again when Shuyan, exhausted from writing her doctorate application, escapes to her “elsewhere”—Guangzhou. Haylin dresses in a flowery one-piece to represent the city’s vibrant, diverse culture. However, these city introductions feel disconnected from the main narrative; they don’t really tie into Shuyan’s personality or her narrative.
Director Robin Khor Yong Kuan enriches the play with several additional layers. There’s one poignant moment when Shuyan tells the story of an endeavouring muddy man crossing the river through shadow puppetry under dim, warm light, which is quite intense and uplifting. Another powerful moment occurs when Shuyan eventually begins to “feel herself” by ripping off those examination papers, dipping her hair into a basin of shampoo bubbles (what an effort!), and repeatedly laying down on a mattress.
However, once the potential has been fully explored through directorial decisions, the underlying problems within the narrative remains barren, which cannot be easily masked by creative endeavours. The primary problem is the lack of correlation among various “sections”: Shuyan the good Chinese student, the muddy man, and the sensual and relaxed apple man without a concept of linear time – the procedure that one kind of “have to” experience as a typical Chinese, but not necessarily (I have to admit I have other privileges, but still, it’s too stereotypical). These sections seem quite obligatory rather than integral to her journey. The PhD application feels less convincing. It would make more sense if Shuyan’s father were pressuring her for the Gaokao — the Chinese version of A-level exams.
“The apple man” eventually leads Shuyan to her “elsewhere”, awaking her senses and feelings that was once suffocated and pressed by her parents. However, the persecution and potential revelation come a bit too late and too lightweight, skimming and tip-toeing the surface without solid inter-connectedness beneath, nor room for interpretation that will sweep the audience’s heart or mind.