Review: Squabbling siblings anchor absorbing ‘Bald Sisters’

There is no warmth between Him and her younger sister Sophea when they gather together for the first time in four years. Their initial words bypass any and all pleasantries, with each going straight for the throat about her mutual disregard for the other’s hairstyle — one representing a curious choice, the other a byproduct of chemotherapy’s cruelty.

Those beginning moments in San Jose Stage’s West Coast premiere production of “Bald Sisters,” directed fluidly by Jeffrey Lo, mark the first of many tense interactions between the two main characters in Vichet Chum’s insightful narrative. The script comes off as formulaic at times, but this is overpowered by plenty of moments of fresh, truthful dialogue.

While the pacing can get slacky, much of that is overcome by the talents of a very tight cast. Lo has assembled a collection of those who understand how to create a beat, the collective deftly delivering multiple moments of richness.

There is a serious edge to Ma (Keiko Carreiro), a woman whose highly-appealing foul mouth infuses her indelible charm. Very early in the narrative, she finds herself knocking at death’s door, and in true Ma fashion, basically explodes through once it opens. There is nothing mournful about this passing, though, mainly due to the play’s structure; Ma still comes back frequently in a series of flashbacks.

Ma’s daughters Him (Nicole Tung) and Sophea (Rinabeth Apostol) carry some of Ma’s spirit within their Texas home (sharply designed by Christopher Fitzer), albeit with slightly softer edges. Both daughters also have challenging issues that put them in some tough spots, including relationships and Him’s illness. While Him is still dealing with the fallout of infidelity from her pious pastor husband Nate (Will Springhorn, Jr.), Sophea has her own issues with horrible men past and present, as well as a challenging secret that will be revealed in due time.

One of the strongest aspects of the play is how it deals honestly with multiple generations of a Cambodian family, impacted by a matriarch who lived through Hell in dictator Pol Pot’s vicious Khmer Rouge in the mid to late-1970s. These generational divides are not just between mother and daughters, but mother and daughter and sister. While Ma is now gone, it’s up to both sisters to navigate and advocate for their dead mother, which proves tricky.

Does a burial honor some of the family’s Christian roots, or should there be a deeper delving into the native Buddhism of Ma’s native roots? A cremation is certainly a viable option — well, at least to one person in the room.

While Him maintains strong cultural roots, Sophea’s cultural lines are not as clear, since she born in the United States. “Cambodian lite,” as Him snidely calls her sister, is a slice that cuts deep.

The play is a five-hander, yet it’s the work of Tung and Apostol that anchors things, built from their sharp ability to listen and react. Affairs of the deceased are often messy, and there exists a sizable canyon between these two, exploited mightily by both performers as they rip each other’s flesh clean off the bone with unapologetic indignance.

Informing each daughter is the character of Ma, who influences the proceedings whether on stage or not. Carreiro imbues her Ma with an extreme sense of likability, while still maintaining a curt edge that joyfully unleashes at the most inopportune moments. Her hilarity is built from the trauma of her past life, but also a profile of unwavering courage as her end date is stamped.

Maybe part of Ma’s valor is due to what awaits on the other side, thanks to a sweet end from Maurice Vercoutere’s lighting that proves delightfully fitting.

If there is a Heaven, may there be a massive karaoke machine, plenty of microphones, and lots of songs about rain’s healing power cued up while hair flows everywhere.

David John Chávez is chair of the American Theatre Critics Association and a two-time juror for the Pulitzer Prize for Drama (‘22-‘23); @davidjchavez.