Kelly Seo and Ins Choi in Kim’s Convenience | Photo by Dahlia Katz
Now that’s it’s become a cultural sensation, from Fringe favourite to popular tv series, Soulpepper’s remount of Weyni Mengesha’s original production feels quaint and comforting. If you’re encountering Kim’s Convenience for the first time, I’m a little jealous; for those who already know it, this remains a cozy and resonant piece of Canadiana. Ins Choi’s affectionately rendered portrait of a Korean-Canadian family in the heart of Regent Park has an understated potency.
Well before the endearing characters sneak their way into our hearts, the verisimilitude Joanna Yu’s set quietly disarms us. It feels authentically mundane—a modest convenience store with its weathered walls and familiar merchandise. The first person we meet, going through his early morning routine, is Appa, portrayed here with an adorable and exasperating obstinacy by playwright Choi (who originated the role of the estranged son, Jung, just over a decade ago). As the gentle shafts of lighting designer Wen-Ling Liao’s sunrise give way to overhead fluorescents, beginning Appa’s day, the calm atmosphere gives no indication of the traumatic forces, both internal and external, that will come to a head.
A first-generation Korean immigrant with performative resentment for all things Japanese, he has some strategic yet absurd profiling methods which mortify his daughter, Janet (Kelly Seo). Hilarity ensues as he tries to educate her on how the myriad combinations of race, sexuality, and clothing indicate whether someone will “steal” or “no steal.” Much to her chagrin, when he confronts one Black, jean-jacketed man, his dubiously-founded suspicions are validated.
This is an indication of his objectively problematic attitude, but one that is, despite our enlightened discomfort, grounded in very real experience. His narrow views and domineering behaviour alienates him from his children. Years before, a violent altercation with his teenage son, Jung, severed their connection. Long-festering tension between him and Janet, and the culminating explosion, now threatens to poison their blood and send her packing too. Their big flight is the most distressing moment in the show. That garbage bag that figures so prominently in their squabble is more than just a prop, the burden it represents far greater than the mere litter it holds.
Choi’s dynamic with both Seo and Ryan Jinn (as Jung) is an intimate and relatable depiction of a fraught generational divide. The story centres around ideas of legacy and familial responsibility, intensified by a recent offer of millions to purchase his life’s work—the store. As the community of Regent Park is about to be disrupted by condos and a Walmart looming on the horizon, their conflicts are thrown into relief as he wrestles with what his life means. While the store is an important signifier and source of pride, he ultimately realizes his true legacy expands far beyond it.
As Appa’s wife, Umma, Esther Chung has a quiet dignity. She never raises her voice, but she’s a stable, present entity and we can tell she feels the situation deeply. She’s also distinctly funny in her muted, restrained way. Her scenes with Choi are especially understated, conveying years of companionship in telling subtleties. As Appa’s children and customers demand he engage with them on their terms, most of the play is in English, but he and Umma slide comfortably into Korean when alone together. Even if you don’t understand their conversations precisely, you can glean from context what’s happening between them and that adds to the sense of being welcomed into a private space.
One of the fun, theatrical showcase aspects of this play is the quadruple-role opportunity it offers a Black actor to exercise their range. Brandon McKnight plays the four characters of Mike and Alex (random customers), Mr. Lee (a business associate) and Alex (a former friend of Jung, now a police officer). Each of these characters has an entirely different persona, suggesting a distinct life beyond the context of their scene, though Alex is the most involved of the quartet. His reconnection with Janet and their flirtation is a cute highlight. That wristlock proposal is a sweet and iconic comedy set piece.
There are some aesthetic choices that place the Kim family drama within a broader Toronto community. Apartment exteriors loom above and beyond the main store set. Projections designed by Nicole Eun-Ju Bell provide a poignant tribute in photos of the many Korean families whom this story represents.
While we get to see Appa and Janet’s fiery tempers on full display, we are left to imagine the ugly scenes that drove a hurtful wedge between father and son. The final reunion scene between Appa and Jung has no dramatic fireworks or grand gestures of reconciliation. It is delicate and awkward encounter where they timidly dance around the unspoken rift until they find their new footing.
We never really know what the future will hold for the Kim family or their store. The threat of gentrification isn’t quashed or even properly addressed, but as a family they have made decisions about who they are and what they want. The world be damned, they will persist and endure. Kim’s Convenience is a lovely tribute to our capacity to work through conflict by harnessing our resilience and empathy.
Kim’s Convenience
running January 30 to March 2, 2025
Young Centre for the Performing Arts (50 Tank House Lane)
running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes (no intermission)
Brandon McKnight, Ins Choi and Kelly Seo in Kim’s Convenience | Photo by Dahlia Katz