Stir Q&A: Norman Yeung on performing in a bathtub for Touchstone Theatre's Seismic Shift solo series
The writer-performer talks about contemplating fatherhood and eating green beans from a can in I Know I’m Supposed to Love You
Norman Yeung spent long, long hours in a bubble bath to create the candid and funny I Know I’m Supposed to Love You.
Touchstone Theatre is streaming I Know I’m Supposed to Love You via Youtube as part of the Seismic Shift Series.
TOUCHSTONE THEATRE HAS come up with a unique way to mark these strange and lonely times: artistic director Roy Surette invited artists to explore the experience of creating in isolation for a new series called Seismic Shift. At the same time, playwrights can reimagine digital performance.
First out of the gates is Norman Yeung’s I Know I’m Supposed to Love You, directed and with dramaturgy by Daniela Atiencia, and with cinematography by Zach Whitcomb. You can stream it for free as of right now on Youtube.
In the solo production, Yeung plays a writer who is confronting the next stage in his life: having a child. He addresses that unborn child from a bubble bath. And amid the candid monologue, he contemplates everything from aging and loss to growing up in a Chinese family.
Yeung works across theatre, film, and visual arts. You probably know him best for his play Theory, a psychological thriller that had its world premiere at Toronto’s Tarragon Theatre before seeing its American premiere at Mosaic Theater Company in Washington, DC; it appeared here at Rumble Theatre’s Tremors fest in 2018.
We talked to the artist about the effects of longterm bubble use, his penchant for canned green beans, and much more.
How did the idea for this start? It seems like these are the sorts of life questions we're all asking ourselves about during this "Seismic Shift" in times.
I’ve been contemplating the idea of having kids – not so much do I want kids, but why would I want kids. For me, considering having kids is philosophical, a peculiar combination of intellectual inquiry and emotional evaluation. At this point, having a kid is completely tied to my feelings for my parents, but perhaps not in ways one would expect. That’s what my character discovers in I Know I’m Supposed to Love You. I was going to write an essay about these ideas years ago, then this opportunity with Touchstone Theatre came up; dramatising these ideas would be way more fun. The challenge for me and director Daniela Atiencia was to render a theatrical performance through video, and without a live audience. As befits my abstract thoughts about parenthood, the piece evolved into a metaphysical premise.
In terms of other life questions... This pandemic is a time for us to assess our priorities and life choices. I’m currently in my beloved hometown East Van instead of Los Angeles, Toronto, or Stratford, where I was rehearsing at the Festival until the virus said nope. I decided to come home to live with my parents for a while, and being with them during this crisis added urgency and profundity to this project’s themes. I’m reminded that my family is my priority, and it’s gonna be super hard to leave again.
I’d like to mention that my personal ideas about family aren’t 100 percent the same as what my character is contemplating. I know that “having a family” doesn’t require having children, and a community of friends can be family. My character is examining a specific concept of family infused with Chinese sensibilities.
Please tell us about the whirlpool tub. And how many baths did it take to shoot this? What was the biggest challenge with this "location"?
It took one bath! One long, eight-hour bath. I broke out in a rash immediately after – it felt like super bad sunburn. It’s because we concocted a soap mixture with a secret ingredient to achieve a certain texture of bubble that would stay fluffy. The biggest challenge was shedding skin for a week after. Another biggest challenge was the tub having a mind of its own, as those jets would gush seemingly whenever they felt like it.
We shot in the home of Marianne, who is the aunt of Zach Whitcomb, our intrepid one-person crew who operated camera, sound, lights, editing, all. Indie theatre and film: Gotta use those hook-ups when you got ‘em.
What did the experience of creating and performing this alone feel like, addressing it to a person who doesn't exist yet?
Creating this was very much a collaboration with Daniela, who also served as dramaturge. She is a deviser, whereas my experience as performer and playwright mostly comes from conventional approaches, so I learned so much working with her. She opened up creative possibilities in ways I hadn’t imagined. My first draft was basically the character sitting in a chair and delivering the monologue to the camera like a video message to the future child. BORING (maybe)! Daniela’s vision was delightfully unexpected, and her specific application of space and objects inspired my revisions to keep in step with ideas she was offering.
I wish I had a profound answer about addressing a person who doesn’t exist. I guess I’m pretty used to speaking to non-existent and imaginary people. Performing this felt akin to delivering a soliloquy, or sharing a monologue with a live audience, or shooting a film or TV show where I’m speaking to a tennis ball or piece of tape. In effect, our shoot was pretty much a film shoot. But to deliver a theatrical performance to no audience, it felt so... pandemic.
We know you're playing a character, and he works through a lot of his relationship to his Chinese upbringing and background. What was the biggest realization you came to about your own family background writing the play?
Yes, although the play is rooted in my own life, I wanted enough distance so I could explore his ideas critically. Maybe it’s like being John Malkovich in Being John Malkovich but it isn’t John Malkovich, it’s a version of me. This character’s life situation isn’t exactly my own. But the language barrier with parents is as real as it gets.
My family is very close, and our love doesn’t suffer one bit from the linguistic blocks. For what we might lack in exactitude, we succeed with unspoken nuance and understanding. Unconditional love needs no words.
Some years ago I decided I’m going to stop regretting my terrible Cantonese, and instead focus on embracing the special ways in which my family functions. My character comes to that epiphany. I have a feeling many Chinese-Canadians and immigrants can empathize.
Eating green beans with chopsticks: Is this a thing? Is there symbolism there?
You mean there are other ways to eat canned vegetables?
I eat most snacks, especially chips, with chopsticks. It’s so I can keep typing. I mostly eat fresh vegetables, though, and a bowl is usually involved. This was Daniela’s idea because she knows I do snack on canned vegetables. One key choice she made was to place my character in a space of intimacy and comfort to speak honestly and share private behaviour.
And for me to share with you, as does my character, that I eat canned green beans with chopsticks, is the ultimate act of vulnerability.
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