The aubergine of the title is the shiny purple vegetable we call “eggplant.” It’s a gift to Ray (Tim Kang), a troubled chef who reluctantly agrees to take his father (Stephen Park) home to die. Lucien (Michael Potts), the hospice worker in charge of the case, explains that he prefers the French name, because it more closely matches the beauty of the plant. Lucien has seen a lot of death and dying, not only because of his job, but also in the refugee camps in his native Africa. He understands all too well the desperation of survival, in a place where his people were unwanted and unwelcome. He has taken on the job of not only making Ray’s dad as comfortable as possible in his last hours, but also of preparing Ray for what’s to come. As in many families, there is a history of conflict. Tempers flare when the older, more frugal Korean lashes out as his son for buying an expensive knife. Ray has been given his father’s credit card to use for emergencies only. But to the budding chef, having the right tools for his work is essential, and he vows that he will pay his father back. At the heart of the generational struggle is the fact that the immigrant feels his son should have a higher, more practical calling than cooking. In his culture, that’s women’s work. Ray is at a loss. He feels a responsibility to contact his dad’s estranged brother (Joseph Steven Yang) back in Korea, but he doesn’t speak the language. He decides to contact his on-again off-again girlfriend, Cornelia (Sue Jean Kim). “Cor” is more fluent in the old tongue than anyone he knows. Unfortunately, Ray has been less than sensitive in the relationship. He’s disappeared from Cornelia’s life without a word of explanation; she is very angry. But when Ray gets his uncle on the phone, she relents and explains the situation in Korean. Ray’s uncle shows up, and is not the rigid, angry man that his brother is. He weeps at the bedside, and through Cornelia, he entreats Ray to make a special soup. Uncle tells his reluctant nephew that even though his brother was hard to please, the soup their mother made always brought a smile. Ray agrees, even though he knows his father is too far gone to eat. Playwright Julia Cho skillfully writes of the conflicts that divide families, including the regret that’s felt for all that’s unspoken. The connection of food, preparing a meal for a loved one, is ably expressed, even when words fail. When Uncle conveys to Ray the idea that his skill in the kitchen is a legacy from the grandmother Ray never knew, the appropriateness of the request hits home. Kate Whoriskey’s direction of Aubergine includes a screen where Uncle’s Korean words are translated into English, and mime is effectively employed to convey much of Uncle’s plea; a moment of levity underscores the great need he feels to somehow please his brother. Tim Kang is best known for his stint on the TV series “The Mentalist” where his character was nicknamed “Iceman,” and we see a frosty façade in Ray. This serves him well in highlighting the anguish he feels at his father’s demise. Sue Jean Kim brings the needed fire to balance the romance; it’s a delight to hear her speak Korean with such passion. Michael Potts highlights a caregiver’s compassion, and the wisdom that his difficult life makes him qualified to advise Ray as to what’s coming soon. Joseph Steven Yang brings the needed desperation to the plight of Ray’s Uncle; he is most convincing. Jessica Love begins the evening with a lively description of the life she and her husband live as Foodies. While it’s unique to see a Korean-American as the main character, and absorbing to hear the dialogue in an unfamiliar tongue, the parent/child conflict is universal. Anyone who has come too late to family reconciliation will recognize the underlying love, despair, and need to connect.
