5 Questions with Vivian Nguyen
Vivian Nguyen is an Asian Australian playwright, writer and actor. She's performed extensively, at acclaimed Meat Market, Theatre Works, fortyfivedownstairs and RISING Festival. She's been shortlisted for the Patrick White Playwrights’ Award (Thin Threads), worked with major theatre companies around Australia including Melbourne Theatre Company and Malthouse, and has had her work published with Currency Press (Bugged).
As a screenwriter, she's been selected to participate in AFTRS 2022 Talent Camp with her short film Orchid Man, and was recently shortlisted for this year’s SBS/Screen Australia's Emerging Writers Incubator Program.
No.1
Congrats on Thin Threads getting shortlisted for the Patrick White Playwrights’ Award! a moment to love is your latest show, how was this work conceived?
Thanks so much! It’s been such a wild journey since Thin Threads! The fact that I get to have a career writing is still inconceivable to me. With my latest work, I intentionally approached a moment to love with a sense of in-the-moment-spontaneity with splash of heartbreak. It’s very much a play that fully embodies everything about me, which is quite vulnerable to write about. Even more so to perform. A thin veil between the page and myself, but I wanted to make this work really mean something, and I guess a moment to love was born out of manifestation.
No.2
Much of your work in theatre, which you often have a hand producing too, explore race and class-based issues. Without giving too much away, how does a moment to love continue on this trajectory?
a moment to love continues on this trajectory by exploring my definition of love through my upbringing as a second-generation Asian Australian woman, who so happened to be brought up by the Catholic Church. There’s plenty to explore through these complex threads of race, class, gender and religion, which is rarely spoken about through an Asian perspective. The reality for many who are similar, is that growing up our view of ‘love’ never matched the idealistic idea of ‘love’ we’ve been fed to believe is ‘true’ love. Many of us try to chase that impossible dragon, when all of us share a commonality of this certain experience of ‘love’ through our culture. It helps make it feel less lonely. The more stories that explore that, I believe the less we can harbour shame around it, and expand the definition to be more inclusive.
No.3
It’s a well-known fact that the Australian theatre world is not as diverse as we’d like it to be, and even more so compared to other arts industries. What challenges do you think you’ve faced as an Asian Australian playwright, writer and actor? What plays have you seen in the recent past that have made you feel excited about change in the industry?
It’s a complex issue, isn’t it? The wider question is whether our stories can exist as complex entities in all of its facets, or is it consumable through a certain angle in order for it to be sellable or watchable? That goes to the heart of an unsettling question: are we only comfortable with seeing diverse stories through the eyes of the majority and not of our own people? Do we take the edge off the truth for it to be acceptable?
That’s certainly something I continue to navigate through my artistic practices. It’s one of my shortcomings I think, that I refuse to compromise on aspects of a story that I know exist because of certain experiences and people I grew up with. I’ve been asked to compromise, and choose not to.
But on a brighter note, some plays, ones that get me so excited about the future of Australian theatre include: The Return (Malthouse), White Pearl (Sydney Theatre Company), Security (Darebin), K-Box (Malthouse) and Stay Woke (Malthouse). I’ve only intentionally included Australian playwrights, though there have been some amazing imported works (Seven Methods of Killing Kylie Jenner and Caught, for example). These plays have a notable nuance and complexity, a daring nature to be unafraid of its reality. It expands what we know, and that’s at the heart of why I create. To continue to expand, to continue to create stories that encompass our whole embodied experience.
No.4
What do you do as a performer to feel more grounded before going on stage?
Lots of movement and breathing! Dancing to pop music! Then deep meditation and humming. Sometimes I do tell myself, under my breath, ‘fuck this.’ That helps too.
No.5
You’ve performed in a fair few plays now, some of which include We’re Probably Really Really Happy Right Now (Theatre Works), as well as written (Under the Skin, La Mama) and produced (What Every Girl Should Know, Brunswick Mechanics Institute). But a moment to love is your first play in which you’re writing, producing and performing. How do you think this makes the experience differ from your previous stage productions?
Under the Skin is probably similar. It’s definitely a different ball game performing your own work. However, in contrast, I’m practically alone on stage for this one! It’s terrifying. I don’t think I can shy away from that reality. There’s a zero degree of hiding, a 100 per cent degree of nakedness. I find myself questioning why I’m putting myself in this precarious position!
What I’m getting from this experience though, that differs to others, is that purpose is the main driver. I really do have something to say and the purpose to express, outside the normal day-to-day business, is an essence I never want to take for granted as an artist. It helps in times of doubt, especially up close to the face of fear.
The fact that I’m writing, producing and performing helps connect back to why I’m here in the first place, especially being in the throes having a career as an artist. It’s quite an existential experience I’m in, clearly. Yet, the autonomy to express no matter what, without waiting for an external institution to validate it is quite liberating. It compels me to take up space, and I truly do hope that it inspires more artists of colour to do the same. I want to see more stories from people of colour, on their terms, and I know I will be moving forward. Times are changing.
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Hook ups. One-night stands. FWB. Short- and long-term relationships... The list goes on.
A thrill seeker swiping for the next hot thing. She sets it on her own terms like a boss. It's power, it's pleasure until one day, the tables turn. Suddenly she finds herself falling victim to no other worst foe than... Love.
A forty-five-minute blistering one woman show that explores the age-old tale through lessons taught by her Asian parents, emotionally unavailable men and the Virgin Mary. Darting between absurd digital fantasy and unarresting reality, ‘a moment to love’ pierces right into a love-stricken heart and 27 years' worth of anxiety.
a moment to love is a searingly honest, funny and vulnerable confession about why love is something we absolutely need, why it will never die, and why it’s here to stay.
Runs Oct 3 to 9 at Melbourne Fringe. Tickets here.