Michelle Lim Davidson’s debut play Koreaboo begins where the Hollywood version of the same story would start rolling the credits. Following the reunion of an Australian adoptee Hannah (Lim Davidson) and her biological mother (Heather Jeong) in Seoul, it explores the real-world complexities of what happens after the fairy-tale ending.
While the Griffin Theatre Company play is not a perfect autobiographical account, it borrows heavily from Lim Davidson’s own experience of reconnecting with her Korean family after growing up in suburban Newcastle, where she rarely saw anyone who resembled herself. But far from bringing the closure she expected to find, like Hannah, this reunion only opened new, more difficult questions about culture and identity.
Lim Davidson’s performance as Hannah is poignant, conveying an unfolding identity crisis using a full spectrum of emotions. We feel the buoyant energy of her dreams about how her relationship with Umma would blossom, but also the weight of her disappointment at the more sobering reality she is faced with when the two meet.
Rather than learning to cook kimchi under the loving guidance of the mother she has dreamt up, Hannah quickly finds herself at odds with the real Umma, who seems more interested in the everyday workings of her convenience mart than spending quality time with her daughter.
The language barrier and cultural differences in work ethic, beauty standards, and family structure make even simple conversations awkward. Hannah’s frustration in these difficult exchanges is palpable. While she tries to use the few Korean phrases she’s learned from Duolingo, her attempts prove helpless. Instead of experiencing greater connection with her cultural roots, she is deeper in identity limbo than ever before, feeling “too Korean for Australia and too Australian for Korea.”
Yet, despite the heaviness of these complex emotions, Lim Davidson manages to maintain the play’s light-hearted momentum. The bulk of the play’s comedy comes from Hannah’s shameless attempts to ‘fit in’ to modern Korean culture to please Umma, even if this means dressing in pastel miniskirts, puffy hair bows, and lacy knee-high socks that made her “look like a toddler”.
Her fascination at the mere scope of convenience mart products also prompts a few laughs. This is bolstered by the hyper-detailed set design (Mel Page) of Umma’s mart itself, including everything from refrigerated energy drinks, a wall of different flavoured instant ramen, and a stand of anti-ageing cream made from snail secretion.
This lighter tone is also carried by Heather Jeong in her performance of Umma, who frequently bursts into K-pop hits mid-conversation and recites whole scenes from Sex and the City, which she watches to learn English. The play marks Jeong’s acting debut, but her effortlessly effervescent stage presence makes this fact difficult to believe.
While initially straightforward and cheery on the outside, Umma’s character develops into one that is more emotionally complex and heavy. By the end of the play, we come to see her as a woman who was forced to give up her baby and her dreams in order to abide by the strict gender norms and social expectations of the time. But instead of confronting the pain of her past and the guilt that still consumes her, it is easier for Umma to busy herself in the convenience mart and escape into the glamorous world of K-pop and New York high-society.
But eventually, both Hannah and Umma must accept the past and learn to move forward together. Their final embrace is not quite Hollywood, but it nevertheless provides each woman with a sense of cathartic relief. Hannah realised she can never completely bridge the gap between her two identities, while Umma was finally able to process her pain.
Koreaboo is entertaining as it is emotionally evocative. At its heart is the importance of realising that we can never go back to repair the past. But, as Hannah and Umma’s story reveals, we must learn to make the most of what we do have now.
Koreaboo is showing at Downstairs Theatre, Belvoir St Theatre until 20th July 2025.
