The national controversy surrounding Maya Lin’s design for the Vietnam War Memorial is the subject of Livian Yeh’s nimble, process-driven play.
Maya Lin was still a college student when her design for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was selected through an open-submission process. Built in 1982 on the National Mall in Washington, the memorial features a wide-angle pair of black granite walls engraved with the names of lost soldiers, and it descends below ground like a tomb. Opponents called it a monument to shame and defeat.
The controversy surrounding its construction — veterans decrying Lin and her design, the congressional hearings that followed and the addition of a statue nearby depicting three soldiers as a compromise — is the subject of “Memorial,” a nimbly drawn and elegantly executed new play by Livian Yeh that opened on Sunday at the Mezzanine at A.R.T./New York Theaters.
The winning design, a scrawl of black pastel that resembles a bat, represents a stark contrast from the Washington and Lincoln Monuments that dominate the National Mall, massive, gleaming-white shrines to America’s founding ideals. When Maya (Angel Lin) shares her proposed memorial with committee members, she describes it as a wound cut into the meadow between the two monuments, one that’s intended to inspire reflection — a fraught idea in those days, given that the subject of contemplation is the Vietnam War.
Yeh’s retelling is fictionalized but includes some of the young artist’s real-life supporters as characters: Wolf Von Eckardt (Robert Meksin), an architecture critic who defends her in the press, and Hideo Sasaki (Glenn Kubota), a Japanese American architect, interned during World War II, who becomes a mentor to Maya, particularly after detractors start attacking her race (Ross Perot, a donor on the project, once called Lin an “egg roll”).
In “Memorial,” Maya’s opposition takes the form of Colonel Becker (James Patrick Nelson), who spearheads funding for the project but eventually turns against her, and whom Yeh notes is an amalgam of veterans with objections to Lin’s design. Becker asks about Maya’s background upfront, ostensibly to ensure she can withstand national scrutiny. Though she tells him her parents fled Communist China and have no affiliation to the party, her heritage nonetheless becomes a target for racist backlash.
Yeh imagines Maya as a headstrong idealist, committed above all to the purity of her design. And Angel Lin’s assured and anchoring performance toes a delicate line, presenting Maya as neither a babe in the woods nor a wunderkind fully prepared for the magnitude of her mission. There’s admirable strength to Maya’s convictions, and philosophical intrigue to her aesthetic arguments. But while the colonel’s side of their conflict is rooted in trauma and memory, Maya’s is purely theoretical. (It’s Maya’s mother, played by a wonderfully flinty Rachel Lu, whose back story illustrates the idea that a memorial ought to feel inclusive, recalling her sister’s — Maya’s aunt’s — design for a shrine to Communist China.)
That Maya’s argument for her blueprint is conceptual instead of personal can make her seem as if she’s no more than the sum of her artistic principles, and less sympathetic than the colonel in making her case. Nor is there much talk of the social or political debates over the Vietnam War itself, which might have helped trace a throughline to the present, when U.S. military operations are more often addressed in public discourse with the kind of moral ambiguity Lin’s design confronts. Still, Yeh covers an extraordinary amount of ground in the 95-minute show, and has a draftsman’s keen eye for concision.
The director Jeff Liu’s graceful staging, for the Pan Asian Repertory Theater, reflects Yeh’s focus on the rich potential of quietly expressive architecture. The sloped white panels of Sheryl Liu’s set suggest both a venerated graveyard and a row of blank canvases, and serve as a backdrop for evocative projections by Gregory Casparian and lighting by Victor En Yu Tan. The production’s attention to detail, including the impressively subtle 1980s costumes by Karen Boyer and scene-setting sound by Da Xu, lend texture and dimension to the largely process-driven plot.
How a country chooses to remember is a clear indication of its values. So what does it say that Lin’s distinctly American success story isn’t more widely known? “Memorial” does for Lin’s legacy what she has striven to do in her work — invite people to consider uncomfortable truths.
Memorial
Through Feb. 19 at A.R.T./New York Theaters, Manhattan; panasianrep.org. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes.
Source: Theater - nytimes.com
