Archie lived in New York City. He loved Andrew. He wrote restaurant reviews on Yelp. But now Archie has been dead for over two years, and his father Raymond is desperate to learn more about the son he has lost.
In Yilong Liu’s LAMDA award-winning play The Book of Mountains and Seas, Raymond is visiting Andrew. We learn that the only thing Raymond has left of Archie’s is his phone, and all that is on that phone is Archie’s Yelp page. Raymond has printed out all 179 of Archie’s reviews and made them into a book; now he wants to visit every single restaurant, café and noodle bar – and he wants Andrew to go with him.
This play focuses on grief, guilt, regret and fear. It asks how we can ever really know someone, and whether we are even entitled to do so. Is it right – for ourselves and the memory of the person we have lost – to cling on to the past? Or should we instead face the future, and divert our love to those who still need us?
There are only three actors in The Book of Mountains and Seas, the opening set is minimal, consisting of just two chairs, a table and a light/camera. (The only other prop, an umbrella, is later put to exceptionally good and significant use.) Yet Eric Elizaga (Raymond) and Ephraim Birney (Andrew) manage to persuade us that we are in a restaurant, in Andrew’s apartment, in a gay club, and at the airport, and they do so very convincingly.
Raymond and his wife moved from China to California to give Archie a better life; they believed that their ‘bright, curious, adventurous’ – and very gay – son would thrive in America; ‘we didn’t want to kill that child inside.’. And thrive Archie did, but on his own terms. Terms that Raymond (who, incidentally, is not in the least homophobic – it’s much to the show’s credit that it doesn’t rely on this trope) feels excluded him.
Archie moved to the East coast, embraced queer culture, and wrote weird, funny, highly successful reviews. Raymond is obsessed with finding out what he doesn’t know about his son – why did he wipe everything except Yelp from his phone? What was he hiding? What did he, as a parent, do wrong? Can he find the real Archie in his writing?
Our phones and our social media contain our whole lives. Do they tell the truth about us? And whether they do or not, do we want that story told?
Or as Archie says, why do people share so much?
“Don’t be so extra, people!”
And just as we can say anything about ourselves, so anyone can say anything about us. Reviews, be they of films, books, music – or perhaps especially, restaurants – can destroy lives. The internet is a dangerous place; our privacy has never been harder to protect.
Raymond’s attempts to read messages into Archie’s words are heartbreaking; did his precious only child eat at a noodle shop to make up for missing his father’s birthday? Did he revisit a restaurant he had slated because he really wanted to return to California?
But although Andrew is reluctant to join Raymond in his quest, refuses to buy into the idea of subliminal messages in the text, and asserts that he needs to move on, we soon learn that he too is stuck, consumed by guilt for what he sees as his failure to accompany Archie on the night he was attacked. He rarely goes out. As a photographer, he once wanted to travel the world, but now he only feels safe taking routine wedding snaps,
“Archie made this city a little less scary.”
He can’t travel without Archie – he too can’t quite let Archie go.
Raymond is a little jealous of Andrew, who must surely have known far more about Archie than he did – but it turns out Andrew didn’t know everything about his lover; he too is in for a shock or two. And even though Raymond and his wife have had a close relationship with Andrew ever since Archie died, there remain things they don’t know about one another. Do we ever know everything about anyone, even those to whom we feel closest?
Meanwhile, Archie, played enjoyably, and indeed archly, by Charles Hsu, appears from time to time, at first to make smart comments, but gradually opening up to reveal his own vulnerabilities and the struggle he too had when he first came to NYC.
Although the main themes of The Book of Mountains and Seas are serious, there is still plenty of humour in this play. I especially enjoyed Raymond and Andrew’s hilarious night at a gay club (and Raymond’s hangover the next morning.) Archie’s reviews, while often bitchy, are also witty, at times bringing to mind US comedian Randy Rainbow. Andrew’s disastrous photo session with a newlywed couple is also very funny.
After a shocking reveal, Raymond is hurt and angry. Can he overcome his pain? Can these two grieving men help one another to re-embrace life instead of dwelling on the past? Or will they both remain stranded in their misery? You’ll have to see the play to find out.
This was the first preview performance of The Book of Mountains and Seas; the actors were nearly word perfect, and I’m sure the production will only improve as time goes on. All three inhabited their characters well, Eric Elizaga giving an exceptionally nuanced performance as a wounded, puzzled parent who’s still keen to reach out to his son’s partner. His amusing attempts to keep up with a younger generation are also horribly recognisable to someone (me) from a similar demographic.
I must admit to being slightly unsure about the relevance of the title to the story; although in the first scene Archie talks about the book, I couldn’t quite see how it related to the rest of the play – but this was a minor point, The Book of Mountains and Seas tackles issues that affect every one of us living in this digital age. You will come away wondering what your own phone would tell people about you; you may even find yourself spending a few evenings deleting all those things you once considered secret. They’re not.
The Book of Mountains and Seas is an Alchemation production; the Associate Producer is Jack Eidson. See it at Venue 33, Pleasance Courtyard (Beneath) at 13.05 every day until 25th August except Mondays 5th, 12th and 19th. Tickets are available here.
