Kim’s Convenience is not your average corner shop. The interior is riddled with vibrant oranges and blues, maintaining a character as playful as its proprietor. There is an air of homeliness and invitation amplified by the domestic interiority at the play’s commencement. The show begins as Mr Kim walks in to greet us, singing softly, privately to himself in Korean. He moves with a practiced rhythm that is almost balletic, gliding systematically along the stage as he turns on the store lights, places newspapers carefully in their stand, switches on the “open” sign and returns to home base, behind the counter. He pours a cup of tea, adds a comically large amount of sugar, and stirs, first anticlockwise, then clockwise. For a second here, Mr Kim simply exists, quietly and peacefully, unaware that he is observed by hundreds of eyes reflecting the warm light of his small store. Then the bell sounds out from the door, and time begins again, as the daily grind walks into Kim’s Convenience and smiles at its proprietor.
Kim’s Convenience at the Oxford Playhouse stages the original 2011 play written by Ins Choi, but many know it better from its adaptation into a hit Netflix TV series, which ran for 5 seasons. Both the play and the show follow Mr Kim (James Yi), the grouchy but well-meaning owner of the titular Kim’s Convenience, along with Mrs Kim (Candace Leung), his pious and peace-making wife; Jung (Daniel Phung), his rebellious, estranged son, and Janet (Caroline Donica), his artsy, self-righteous photographer daughter. Both writers of this article harbour fond memories of the TV show and although the play did not disappoint, there were clear differences in the atmosphere of Kim’s Convenience that may prove surprising to fans of the show.
Whilst the play has its comedic elements (the main source of this being the childish interactions between Mr Kim and Janet), it also deals with topics steeped in sobriety, lending the production much poignancy. This makes the brevity of the play all the more impressive, although it meant that there was decidedly less time for light-hearted comedy than the show. Nonetheless, the production is decidedly not deficient in humour, with James Yi’s dynamic portrayal of Mr Kim contributing to this in spades. Yi, who played Jimmy Young in the Netflix show, has endless chemistry with the other actors on stage, from his tender conversations with Mrs Kim in Korean to his short-tempered interactions with a plethora of customers, all of which were played artfully by Andrew Gichigi. The intimacy between Mr and Mrs Kim, though not often depicted, was an especially touching element of the production, as it emphasised that, despite the play’s fly-on-the-wall feel, there are elements of the Kims’ private life that we are not privy to as mere spectators. Simultaneously, the gist of the conversation was still clear to an English-speaking audience, reminding us that there is some global unity to family and love. This is also a testament to the skill of the actors, who effectively utilised body language and tone to this effect.
Offset by the harsh commercial lighting, the only sound effect for most of the play was the intrusive beeping of the store’s door surrounded on stage by the graffiti of the urban environment, bleeding into the shop. The wheeling in of a stained glass window marked the only change in location to the local Korean church, which was accompanied by softer lighting. To mark this transition, Mrs Kim sings like a songbird in Korean as if with her trip to the church, she attempts to return home. Despite this, throughout the dialogue between her and her son, the convenience store remains in the background of the scene, albeit shrouded in shadow, an enduring reminder of Jung’s inability to return home or escape his troubled past. Their voices echo around the hall, lending the conversation gravitas whilst also emphasising the shift in setting. In the next scene, Mrs Kim recalls the opening of Kim’s Convenience, when she was still pregnant with Jung. The stage softens at the edges, bathed in purple lighting which creates a sweet, longing ‘la vie en rose’ effect. However, it is not long before she is shocked out of her stupor by Mr Kim and the lights swiftly snap back to a lurid, fluorescent light that harshly illuminates the reality of her situation and makes it clear that she can never return to this simpler time.
A particularly striking aspect of this play was the shadow of gentrification and capitalism hanging over the Kim family. Mr Kim’s first on-stage interaction is not with Janet but rather with Mr Lee, who offers to buy the convenience store. Mr Lee explains that the neighbourhood around the store is being dismantled to make way for condos and eventually a huge Walmart, with which Mr Kim cannot compete. The question of Mr Kim’s ‘exit plan’ – of what he wants to do with his life before he dies – introduces an element of capitalist mortality that underlies many of the play’s interactions. Mr Kim’s decision to train Janet and their argument about her contributions to the shop are fuelled by his worries about leaving a tangible and successful legacy. Even Janet and Alex’s romantic relationship is overshadowed by continuous comments about Janet’s age, the ‘desperation’ of her singlehood and the sense that the time for her to become financially stable, marry and have children is swiftly running out. The argument between Janet and Mr Kim at the heart of the play is shaped by money, as she calculates a receipt for her time, and he reels off a list of the expenses she’s caused him over the years. The pain in Mr Kim’s voice when he tells her, ‘I give to you my whole life’ is palpable and raw, as the gesture of his unspoken love and devotion becomes lost in a maze of numbers and sums.
The theme of what we owe to those we love runs deeply through the core of the play, as a parallel conversation occurs between Jung and Mrs Kim at the family church. Perhaps this intimate, religious setting is what prompts Jung’s sudden confession, in which he despairs at the loss of his childhood potential, and the state of his adult life. At the climax of the discussion, Mrs Kim tells him forcefully (though not unkindly) to ‘Go home, Jung’, a stark reminder that he cannot escape his choices and start over due to the responsibility he owes to his infant son and the mother of his child. The familial dynamic is haunted by the overarching debt owed by Janet and Jung for the Kims’ initial emigration from Korea. The idea that, by virtue of their leaving their friends, family and careers for a cramped, graffitied corner shop, the Kims are owed something by their children is a relatable yet highly contentious element of the immigrant experience. At the beginning of the play, at least, this seems to be a charge incapable of repayment.
The threat of gentrification looming over the family is one incapable of resolution in 75 minutes. From the beginning of the play, we learn that the convenience store is competing with other, larger corporations. The sole conversation between Mrs Kim and Jung takes place in the last remaining Korean church in Toronto, on its final day of operation before it is bought up by developers. Although not a highly prevalent theme in the show, the threat that gentrification poses to their shop and community cuts deep, adding a melancholic note to the play’s heartwarming denouement. Kim’s Convenience is merely a glimpse of a day in this family’s life as they wrestle with questions of legacy and mortality, familial duty and love. Ultimately, the wider forces at play ensure that what seems like a happy ending is tinged with ‘what ifs’. The play leaves us pondering if, whether the family are united or not, Kim’s Convenience is truly capable of surviving the ongoing threat to the neighbourhood?
Ultimately, Kim’s Convenience is a beautifully written commentary on love, life and capitalism. For fans of the show, and those who’ve never even heard the name ‘Mr Kim’, we would highly recommend this incredibly enlightening production.
[Kim’s Convenience is running at the Oxford Playhouse 14-17 of May]