How do you kick off an Asian American-centered experimental theater show? For the San Francisco Neo-Futurists, the answer is simple: Get everyone in the cast and audience to name the five hottest Asians they know.
This Friday and Saturday, the experimental theater collective San Francisco Neo-Futurists performed their show “99 Wrench Market,” a specialty version of their long-running weekly show, “The Infinite Wrench.” The show, premiering just after the start of Lunar New Year, features an all-Asian American subset of the group’s typical cast. The result is a raw and raucous night of laughs, sobs and lingering thoughts.
The venue for “99 Wrench Market” was wedged between a 7-Eleven and a shawarma spot, one block away from the lights and glamour of Union Square. To enter, attendees passed by the entrance to other performance spaces, climbed up a flight of stairs and walked through the doors of Theater 33, entering the absurdly affecting world of “99 Wrench Market.” Fittingly, the theater has 99 seats.
The format of the show was the same as other renditions of “The Infinite Wrench.” There are 60 minutes on the clock and 30 plays to perform. At the close of every play, audience members yell out a number from a menu — the show’s equivalent of a program — to determine the next microplay. If the clock runs out and there are still plays left on the menu, the show ends anyway.
The effect of this democratic play selection — combined with a well-curated menu — is deeply eccentric, eclectic and inviting. The first play on Friday night was a lighthearted spoken word musical performance by Topher Lin, a co-producer of “99 Wrench Market,” that bemoans his inability to understand the work of Japanese author Haruki Murakami. Another play, titled “Our own tiny Salesforce tower,” concluded in under 30 seconds, during which a colorful light-up ball was attached to the tip of a large clear upright dildo. Taken one way, it’s a parody of San Francisco’s phallic tech bro egotism; taken another way, it’s just a funny genitalia joke.
Aside from that kind of lighthearted brevity, many of the plays were more poignant. In “ASMars (bimbo edition),” Mars C. Ibarra discusses their polished nails and gender identity while parodying an ASMR video. In “Cut Fruit Monologue,” Lin delivers a heart-wrenching speech about his relationship with his parents while violently chopping apples onstage.
All this reflects the intentionality of each play, gesturing to the importance of community support and love. In one play, cast member Wallace Yan reflects on giving aluminum cans to Cantonese-speaking elders in Mission Dolores Park, who are selling the cans for much-needed money. In another, two cast members sing the San Francisco Rapid Response Network phone number as a catchy and heartwarming song.
Although this is the SF Neo-Futurists’ first all-Asian American show, it’s part of the group’s tradition of embracing diversity and representation, especially at a time when immigrant communities worry about the threat of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The group is donating half the proceeds to Asian Pacific Islander Legal Outreach, a San Francisco-based nonprofit that provides legal representation to Asian and Pacific Islander communities.
“The (SF) Neo-Futurists is a group that, in 2013, started off not very diverse,” Lin explained after the show. “Over time, the group has worked very intentionally to expand the diversity of the group so that we can reflect the lived experiences of people in the Bay Area, which is a very diverse place.”
In any case, they’re doing something right. At a time when many theaters across the Bay Area are struggling, the SF Neo-Futurists continue to sell out shows such as “99 Wrench Market.” If the audience’s fervent menu orders at the end of each microplay are anything to go by, something about the company’s ethos keeps audiences coming back for more.
The Friday show didn’t manage to get through all 30 plays, but that’s okay. The SF Neo-Futurists’ Asian America is earnest and visionary at a time when that’s needed most.