REVIEW: A Journey to the West


Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Myth meets migration in this playful, poetic portrait of growing up and letting go.


We all know what it feels like to step away from the safety of the familiar and into the unknown. Maybe it was moving into university halls just two streets from our childhood home, or watching our family relocate and leave behind the bedroom we swore we’d never part with. Or perhaps, like young Xiao Hua (Yitong Fu) in A Journey to the West, it meant crossing continents to begin again– leaving home to study in London, in a brave new world full of possibility. 

A Journey to the West is an honest, bold exploration of the immigrant experience, particularly through a Gen Z lens. Written by Ziqi Ling and Yi Tang and directed by Yi Tang and Haonan Wang, the show reimagines the 16th-century Chinese epic Journey to the West with striking originality. It weaves the classical and the contemporary– blending Sichuan opera face-changing, electronic soundscapes, traditional music including nature sounds and throat singing, and even moments of audience interaction– letting the ancient text pulse through a modern and relevant story. 

The show begins by grounding us in the legend through the introduction of a simple yet cleverly crafted puppet representing the Monkey King. Once this mythical context is set, we meet our protagonist: Xiao Hua (Yitong Fu), a young student preparing to begin university in London, and his overbearing parents (Yi Qu and Qi Chen). Raised in a strict household where everything was solved and planned for him and in spite of him, Xiao Hua finds that even an ocean away, he’s still tied to his parents’ relentless expectations. He’s overwhelmed– not just by the cultural shock of a new country, but by a language barrier, unwelcoming faces, unfamiliar food, a lost phone, and the ever-present voices of parents who refuse to let go. But one fateful night, a surreal encounter with the Monkey King shifts everything– offering Xiao Hua a new way of seeing the world, and perhaps, himself. 

Overall, the show is a successful, often funny and moving portrayal of what it means to spread your wings– especially as an immigrant. The performances are strong across the board: through clever physicality and effective multi-rolling, the cast guide us confidently through the story, even for those unfamiliar with the Mandarin language or the legend of the Monkey King. It’s easy to empathise with Xiao Hua’s plight, and Yitong Fu delivers a nuanced performance, shifting deftly between distinct roles. Yi Qu and Qi Chen are both hilarious and oddly menacing as the parents, with lovely, distinctive physicality. In fact, physicality deserves special mention here: not only is it precise and aesthetically pleasing, but it serves as an alternative form of ‘subtitling’ for non-Mandarin speakers. Choreography is full of gesture and symbolism, allowing the audience to occasionally look away from the subtitles and still follow the emotional and narrative threads unfolding onstage. 

The symbols, props, costumes and concept are all very clever. The sound and music, designed by Hao Liu, are triumphant and interesting, and the lighting by Sheron Luo felt almost like a character itself– minimal, often just a single moving spotlight, but active and responsive to the action. A standout element is the Monkey King puppet: a simple floating

head draped in red with an ornate headdress, it charms with its magical ability to change faces in a blink. Each performer manipulates it at some point, making it a shared and ever-shifting presence. 

If there is one drawback, it’s that the narrative and physical motifs begin to feel a little repetitive. The show could benefit from a deeper exploration of Xiao Hua’s life before meeting the Monkey King, to develop more layers around the ideas of freedom and control. At just 45 minutes, there is room for growth– more narrative nuance, more insight into the inner life of this young person navigating impossible pressures. Still, this is a memorable and exciting production. The Rosemary Branch Theatre is a fitting host for such an epic story in miniature, and A Journey to the West is a valuable addition to this year’s Camden Fringe. Audiences will be entertained, moved– and, most importantly, reminded of what it takes to begin again.

What are your thoughts?