Erin Harrington reviews Wolf Play, written by Hansol Jung, directed by Kathleen Burns, at the Court Theatre, Saturday 18 October, 2025.
Award-winning translator and playwright Hansol Jung’s Wolf Play, first performed in 2019, explores the murky real-life world of unregulated “second chance” adoption, the consequences of white saviourism, and the tangled nature of family. Korean six-year-old Jeenu, the titular Wolf, is a traumatised adoptee. He is traded, effectively under the table, between adoptive father Peter (Andrew Todd), a frazzled Arizona man struggling with a newborn biological child and an indecisive wife, and Robin (Emma Katene), a San Francisco woman desperate for a kid of her own. Some chat on a forum, a few quick signatures, an envelope of cash, and the deal is done. But at the handover Peter mistakes Robin’s boorish gym-owning brother Ryan (Nic Kyle) for her husband, and is appalled when her actual partner – wife Ash (Ray Shipley), an aspiring boxer – shows up. Queer parents weren’t exactly on Peter’s wish-list, although as the “guy who sold his kid on the internet”, as Ash puts it, Peter doesn’t exactly have the moral high ground.
As Jeenu settles awkwardly into the family, Robin struggles with the chasm between her expectations of mothering, and the reality of raising a bright but weird and damaged kid. Ryan has misgivings about the kid’s apparent lack of a ‘strong male role model’, and Peter has second thoughts about the deal.
But what of Jeenu himself – initially dubbed, excruciatingly, “Peter Junior”? He’s played by a remarkably expressive wooden puppet, designed by Julian Southgate and operated by Reylene Rose Hilaga, who addresses the audience directly and narrates his inner monologue with a mischievous ferocity. He sees himself as a wolf – alone, adaptable, watchful, struggling with what it means to have a pack, or not. It’s a form of psychological protection and a way of granting himself some power, and an identity, in a world where he knows he’s a pawn in a grown up fight.
At the play’s core, though, is the touching relationship between Jeenu and Ash. Ash is furious at the adoption, which they had not approved of nor consented to. They have a big fight coming up, and they don’t need the distraction. But they are also the only adult to see the kid as his own person (and a Korean person at that), and not a blank slate or a repository for others’ hopes and dreams. They are both outsiders, fighters, suspicious, southpaws, sizing each other up. Shipley’s understated and well-calibrated performance sits in powerful tension with Hilaga’s playful, bubbly one, creating a core of stillness and understanding as the action of the play gets fractious.
Director Kathleen Burns’ production explores the play’s themes with depth and empathy. Who, or what, is family, and who gets to have a say? To what extent will people look after their own? The play opens with Wolf, in a lyrical monologue, sharing the Korean saying about family and belonging that “naturally, the arm folds inwards” – but whose arm? Jung doesn’t want to solve the ethical minefield of transnational and transcultural adoption, but think through the emotional beats of its consequences with care. The play takes each of the flawed characters seriously, and the cast rise to this challenge beautifully. Wolf Play is desperately sad, but also funny and hopeful.
But there are difficulties. I’ve seen five different productions now in the Wakefield Family Front Room, a small black box space with moveable seating on the ground and fixed seats on a high, horseshoe shaped mezzanine, each time seated in a different place. (Oddly, three of these have been set in kitchens.) While there’s a lot to commend about the intimate relationship between audience and action, the sight lines in each show have been treacherous. In this production, from our spot on the mezzanine, much of the action stage right is invisible, and I hear afterwards that some others on the ground level couldn’t see much from the actors’ chest height down (including some of the excellent puppet work). There’s far less usable, playable space than there seems to be – or at least the approaches so far are still trying to figure out how to negotiate the space’s limitations. It affects mise-en-scene, connection with the performers, and immersion.
In Wolf Play, this is exacerbated by the fixed set – two free-standing door frames, island bench with stovetop, functional sink unit, fridge / freezer, all in a blue that reads as teal, plus seating. This dominates the limited space. The programme’s design notes refer to abstraction, minimalism, unfinished rooms, and uncanny domestic spaces. All well and fine, but this doesn’t read – although it may have on a broader stage. I can see the intention: naturalistic costumes and acting against a more stylised environment (albeit with realistic everyday props; abstraction only extends so far). In practice, the high gloss, hard finish enamel paint on the benches, door frames and refrigerator contrasts poorly with the messy, mottled dark maroon cast that the theatre’s bare black walls take on under the lights. A scruffy soft brown-black couch and two cheap black bar stools aren’t a part of the same aesthetic conceptual world of the kitchen. The costumes are overwhemed by the high saturation of the blue. It’s hard to make sense of it.
There’s some tight, well-considered choreography in recurring sequences where three households’ harried morning routines overlap; it’s very effective. Other sequences don’t have room to breathe as doors slam and wobble, actors squeeze through the visible gap behind the set, and key scenes centre stage – including a boxing bout – squish up against hard surfaces. An important moment, played out in silhouette, lacks legibility. Perhaps things read differently elsewhere in the space, but from where I am seated it is hard to feel immersed.
I’m exasperated because this play is an inspired programming choice. And I’m being a pedant because the Court has such a high reputation for its the quality of its production design. There has been such care and attention at the level of direction and performance to character, relationships, and the lyricism and themes of the script, and the way the play’s textured soundscape, by Dan Bain, supports the action. The production honours the work’s emotional complexity. Southgate’s Jeenu puppet is stunning, and Hilaga’s relationship with it nuanced. In a space this tight and exposed, though, as in the boxing ring, there is little room for error.
Wolf Play runs until Saturday 22 November, 2025
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