Review: A Killer Asks His Victim's Sister for Forgiveness in Redeemed

Redeemed playwright Chisa Hutchinson has said she was inspired to write the play in response to the rise in anti-Asian hate in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic. (The 2021 Atlanta spa shooting spree — in which a white man shot eight people, six of them Asian women — was the most horrific visible example.) Her artistic response to that trend can now be seen at 59E59 Theaters, where the play is making its New York premiere. For better or worse, it reminds us of that disturbing time with a shuddering, forceful vengeance.

Vengeance is, in fact, one of the play’s main themes. The set-up is simple on the surface: Convicted killer Trevor Barlow (Doug Harris) has summoned Claire Yiang (Elizabeth Sun), the sister of the man he murdered, to see him in prison. But a deep well of twisted dynamics underly their ensuing back-and-forth. Barlow admits to Claire the racist motivations behind his deadly attack and claims he has reformed with the help of, incredibly, the ghost of Claire’s brother. He has even gone so far as to write a book about his revelations, which he is hoping Claire, a literary agent, will help get published.

Beyond marveling at the gall of Trevor’s proposal, Claire is understandably skeptical, especially given he’ll be up for parole soon. But it’s a skepticism tinged with no small amount of viciousness. She hasn’t come close to forgiving Trevor for his crime, so a part of her stated reason for taking up his request is simply to see him squirm when she rejects his pleas outright.

On a universal level, Redeemed explores the question of what it takes for someone who has committed an unconscionable crime to be forgiven, or whether forgiveness is even possible. But Hutchinson is even more interested in the topical, racial, and sociopolitical dynamics behind this battle of wills. Naturally, the ambiguity of Trevor’s sincerity offers one of the play’s biggest mysteries. But Claire is hardly a one-dimensional avenging angel.

An exchange in which Claire admits to having hated her brother’s white boyfriend implies that even the most righteous are not free from prejudice. And Claire’s own desire for revenge against a person she clearly sees as a vile specimen of white supremacy is also subtly tweaked, with Hutchinson raising broader questions about just how far one ought to go to repair the racial injustices of the United States’ past and present.

An even bigger mystery, though, is the playwright’s own attitude toward the questions she raises. Though she hints at character nuances and sociopolitical complications in this highly charged tête-à-tête, there are other moments when Hutchinson seems to fully align with Claire’s bloodlust, merely using Trevor as a caricature of what the former sneeringly refers to “faux-white wokeness.” A climactic deus ex machina twist that allows Claire to easily turn the tables on Trevor is especially troubling in that regard.

But strong performances keep this two-scene, 90-minute two-hander riveting. Sun is arguably a little too good at conveying Claire’s fury; the occasional notes of vulnerability her character is supposed to convey come off less convincingly by comparison. Nevertheless, her withering delivery of sarcastic quips is fearsome and memorable.

By comparison, Harris masterfully conveys both Trevor’s surface contrition and the moments of frustration that threaten to unbalance our sympathies toward him. He keeps the central mystery of whether his character means what he says fresh.

Both actors are given able support under Marcus D. Harvey’s unobtrusive direction. David M. Barber’s otherwise spare, black-and-white scenic design offers one imaginative visual touch in the lunar eclipse-like black circle underneath a clock on the back wall. Also offering some visual interest is costume designer Ashley Soliman’s two different outfits for Sun in each scene, one coldly formal, the other stylishly informal. David Remedios’s sound design lightly underscores the ebb-and-flow of tension with an occasional low-pitch ambient hum. Christina Watanabe’s use of spotlights at certain points suggests the shifting tug-of-war power dynamic between the two.

Redeemed will undoubtedly leave you asking tough questions, even if you suspect not all the questions it raises are ones the playwright intended. Still, if you’re looking for theater that will challenge and provoke, Hutchinson’s play fits the bill effectively, even electrifyingly.