Review: A spectacular staging of a political fantasia in ‘Soft Power’ at Signature
The unquestionable star of the musical is Grace Yoo, whose hilarious Hillary Clinton is nothing like the one Americans know but is unforgettable.
By D.R. Lewis
August 15, 2024
This review originally appeared in DC Theater Arts.
When “Hillary Clinton” steps onto the catwalk in a white floor-length coat to address her adoring fans in Signature Theatre’s Soft Power, one half expects to hear the unmistakable first chords of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina.” It’s an iconic image, after all, especially for those Washingtonians whose interests exist firmly at the nexus of both musical and political theater. But this is no post-election celebration, our venue is no Casa Rosada, and our diva is no Eva Perón. Rather, Hillary is stumping for votes in a glitzed-up McDonalds, preparing to (she is certain) defeat the other guy.
And so unfolds David Henry Hwang’s and Jeanine Tesori’s fantasia on assumed-to-be-national themes, playing in Signature’s MAX Theatre through September 15. For Hwang at least, Soft Power is semi-autobiographical, having been the victim of a hate-fueled stabbing in November 2015. In the musical, his proxy (identified as DHH and played by Steven Eng) suffers a similar attack that sends him into a hallucinatory episode where American culture is exoticized in what his eager producer (Xūe Xíng, played by Daniel May) calls “the first Chinese musical on Broadway.” The show-within-a-show double-casts Clinton as both candidate and romantic lead, and as the United States spirals out of control in burger-chomping ignorance, it is Xūe Xíng who emerges as a leading voice to lay down arms and abandon isolationism.
Though Soft Power draws on some of the most recognizable and (for many) embarrassing stereotypes of American culture, Hwang avoids punching down and cruelty for the sake of it. In doing so, the cultural critiques within Soft Power hit much harder. He and Tesori tackle questions of what it means to belong to a country where your neighbors associate your appearance with “outsider”; why we are willing to ignore or accept casual racism when it’s presented behind prosceniums; and the power of art to both perpetuate and eliminate harmful stereotypes and nationalism (in international affairs, “soft power” refers to a country’s ability to gain influence through cultural forces).
It helps that he and Tesori are so obviously and intimately familiar with the conventions of American musical theater. They know all the structural tricks (a big dance sequence, a list song, an explanatory number, the eleven-o’clock solo turn, etc.) and employ them to great effect. There are many spoonfuls of sugar in this Soft Power, which has been reworked since its 2019 outing at New York’s Public Theatre, where it ran two hours and 15 minutes compared with its current 90-minute runtime.
Of course, in its premiere 2018 Los Angeles run and subsequent New York production, the COVID-19 pandemic was still months away. Among the segments Hwang has rewritten is the ending, where he makes note of the Trump administration’s reference to COVID as the “China virus,” among other racist and xenophobic labels, and the resulting spate of anti-Asian hate crimes that followed. The emotional echoes of those events hang in the air, piercing through the spectacle in scenes where Xūe Xíng and DHH encounter anti-Asian bigotry. It’s now hard to imagine Soft Power without the post-premiere rewrites, which support a deep urgency and strongly developed poignancy in DHH’s parting message.
But in this rewritten version, a number of dramaturgical questions are left unanswered, particularly around Hwang’s imagining of nation-parent-child relationships. At the beginning of the hallucination, Xūe Xíng gives a handed-down rock to his daughter Jīng (Ashley D. Nguyen) as he bids her farewell in the Shanghai airport. They sing “Dutiful,” a meditation on family and responsibility. But after that number Jīng never reappears and is hardly, if ever, mentioned again. Similarly, DHH’s father is initially the subject of frequent reference, but his presence peters outt as well. It seems his primary function is to tee up a gorgeous song about Fuxing Park (with stunning staging reflecting communal tai chi practice), where he retreated as a boy in the city. But by the end of the show, Hwang’s treatment of belonging and duty adopts a wider view, never bringing the parent-child commentary to a full and satisfying end.
But if Hwang’s book appears to leave a few threads dangling, director Ethan Heard’s production tucks them neatly away behind a gorgeous, comprehensive staging. In the best way, Heard’s production of Soft Power is a marathon of musical theater one-upmanship. Hwang and Tesori have packed the show with both subtle and obvious references alike. In Tesori’s score, one hears familiar echoes of Dreamgirls (“Democracy”), A Little Night Music (“Song of the Campaign Trail”) and Ragtime (“Dutiful”). In Hwang’s book, our first introduction to Hillary Clinton is in a Harold Hill riff, but rather than “trouble in River City,” she’s lamenting “problems” in the USA (“I’m With Her”). And when Hillary and Xūe Xíng wind up baring their souls on the Golden Gate Bridge (which, in this musical-within-a-musical, is in close proximity to both NYC and the White House), it feels like an extended Music Man reference has finally come full circle.
Heard and choreographer Billy Bustamante rise to meet Hwang and Tesori and add their own Broadway-inspired flair. In service to recurring references to The King and I (ironically, Xūe Xíng’s favorite musical), Bustamante has Xūe Xíng and Hillary polka around the stage. When DHH suffers a stabbing to his neck and Xūe Xíng cradles him, he looks like Eponine in the rain on a Les Miserables barricade. And when Hillary Clinton finally bursts onto the stage, she does so in a fashion that is equal parts Reno Sweeney, Mama Rose, and Cassie (an A Chorus Line–style mirror helps complete the illusion, while forcing the audience to look at itself).
Heard, who joined Signature as its associate artistic director in 2022, affirms with Soft Power that he is a versatile talent, adept at staging spectacle as well as more intimate treatments (like his excellent recent productions of The Bridges of Madison County and Pacific Overtures). His attention to detail allows for a deeply consistent and rewarding viewing experience, smoothing the natural ebbs and flows that so often come with farcical territory. And he has assembled a team of designers who clearly understand his vision and are capable of delivering.
Chika Shimizu’s scenic design ranges from a grungy Times Square to the most glamorous McDonalds one could ever imagine (complete with delightfully supersized burgers and fries). In conjunction with costume designer Helen Q. Huang, the stage is often awash in one of two color schemes: the iconic red-and-yellow combo of that most prolific burger chain, or bold and bright streaks of patriotic red, white and blue. After all, what could be more American than Old Glory and Ronald McDonald (in this Soft Power, there are no apple pies to be found)?
Huang’s triumphant parade of costumes is especially thrilling, evoking seemingly all of the fabrics, patterns, and accessories that come to mind when thinking of the best and worst of American fashion. Camouflage! Sundresses! MAGA hats! Scary Knockoff Times Square Elmo costume! A 1950s dinner dress! Heelys!
Eric Norris’ sound design correctly balances the above-stage band (under the direction of Angie Benson) with the performers below. The music and lyrics come through crisply, providing no barrier to Hwang’s and Tesori’s taut satirical score. And though the glittery sets and flashy costumes are front and center in this production, lighting designer Oliver Wason’s pragmatic offerings are at their best in the sporadic quiet moments that offer the audience an opportunity to breathe and the characters a chance to reveal their deeper feelings.
And that the characters are able to successfully convey that emotional range in DHH’s hallucination is as much a testament to the performers as to the writers. As DHH, Eng often rightfully plays it straight against the more outrageous characterizations, but never cedes the opportunity to make a point. May is magnetic as Xūe Xíng, whether he’s goading DHH into writing the musical of his dreams or breaking out as an international hero.
The unquestionable star of the show, however, is Grace Yoo, whose hilarious Hillary Clinton is nothing like the one Americans know, but is unforgettable nevertheless. The role requires strong vocal chops, a keen sense of comic timing, and explosive stage presence, which Yoo, thankfully, has in spades.
Heard’s cast is rounded out by a coterie of talented players who maneuver quickly between roles, distinguishable not only through Huang’s carousel of costumes, but specific and well-defined characterizations. Christopher Mueller is especially strong in his handling of the macho men (among them a gun-toting Vice President and a homophobic blowhard), and Andrew Cristi is delightful in a string of zany characters (including a Schoolhouse Rock!–inspired Chief Justice and Rumsfeld-esque military adviser) who prove impossible to look away from. Each ensemble member is given a chance to shine at one moment or another, and they universally do.
While Washington-area audiences are fortunate to live in an area that brims with dramatic talent, it’s especially clear in this new production that Signature is making a play for regional musical domination. One can’t help but wonder, do the forces of soft power extend to Helen Hayes Awards?
Running time: 90 minutes without an intermission.
Soft Power plays through September 15, 2024, in the MAX Theatre at Signature Theatre, 4200 Campbell Avenue, Arlington, VA. For tickets ($40–$128) call (703) 820-9771 or purchase online. Information about ticket discounts is available here.
Grace Yoo (Hillary Clinton, center), Eymard Cabling, Andrew Cristi, Sumié Yotsukura, and Jonny Lee Jr. in ‘Soft Power’ at Signature Theatre. Photo by Daniel Rader.