Kim's Convenience, Riverside Studios review - KC and the sunshine vibe

One wonders what sitcom writers will do when supermarkets finally sweep the last corner shops away with nobody left old enough to buy cigarettes, nobody so offline that they buy newspapers and nobody eating sweets, priced out by sugar taxes. The convenience shop is already acquiring a patina of nostalgia, crowned by a warm glow of happier days.

My mother used to send me out aged seven to buy her Embassy Number 1s with me levying a charge of one gobstopper in payment - see, I’m a victim already. Appropriately, that old-school shop is on hand when you want a setting for a gentle, heartwarming, if slightly over-familiar, comedy setting.

Mr Kim is the owner of the eponymous store, dispensing homespun lessons to anyone he can cajole into listening, a Korean immigrant who has made his way in Toronto, but who can feel the ground, literally and metaphorically, moving beneath his feet. New apartments are going up just beyond the parking lot and, with gentrification, comes Walmart. His morning routine is bringing more aches and pains every day, as his ageing limbs tell him that he should ease down towards retirement. But what to do? There’s a business to run and a legacy to secure. Who tells your story matters more to an immigrant - there’s more to tell.

His daughter, Janet, is 30 (30!) and not married, preferring a hit-and-miss career as a photographer to the workaday slog behind the counter. His son, Jung, is estranged from him after a fallout turned nasty, and his wife, Umma, as she is affectionately known (he’s Appa) just wants him to sell up. But there’s an old crush, Alex, who has unexpectedly turned up to catch Janet’s eye and Jung needs something to spark a life that’s just drifting - so might things be about to change?

The writer of the play that became a Netflix series and is now back on stage, Ins Choi, (pictured above with Jennifer Kim and Miles Mitchell) takes on the role of Appa as if sliding into a pair of well-worn slippers. There’s a shrug of a shoulder here, a raised eyebrow there, a well-practised wisecrack or two - it’s all very comfortable for him and, in consequence, for us too, but it takes years of experience to stretch charm sufficiently to fill a house of this size. 

Jennifer Kim lends a defiant energy to Janet, standing up for herself when Appa bosses her about, an unpaid worker in the family business, sparking into confrontation with her father and romance with Alex (Miles Mitchell, as self-effacing a cop as you’ll ever see). It’s tricky to reconcile this assertive 21st century woman with her 16 years spent under the thumb, but you’re pleased that she’s about to secure the love she deserves.

Edward Wu finds the pain in Jung, too proud for a reconciliation with his father, too damaged to make a life away from him. Like the role of his mother (Namju Go) the part is underwritten, somewhat instrumental in the plotting rather than convincing, the mother and son never resolving into fully-fledged individuals with stories of their own to tell. If this were a pilot for a sitcom (which is what the play became), one would expect Jung’s character arc to be explored in more detail - as it is, you’re left feeling a little shortchanged. And nobody wants that in a shop!

Mona Camilie has provided a garish yet somehow beautiful set, shelves packed with the screaming colours of fast food packaging, so director, Esther Jun, is starting on third base when it comes to inviting us into lives that play out seven to eleven on its busy floor. As ever in situation comedy, we have to know the situation, the foundation from which the humour springs.

If you saw the award-winning Red Pitch last year, you will recognise the theme of gentrification driving immigrant families out of inner cities in a kind of reverse Doughnut Effect. There’s also a bit of Fiddler on the Roof’s Tevye in Appa’s adjustment to a daughter’s demand to shape her own life, but the social messaging is low key. Mostly it’s cuddly fare, the racism swirling around a multicultural community presented in a benign light, its edge blunted by that ever-present charm. Whether that quality’s unwelcome cousin, sentimentality, elbows its way to the front of the queue is a matter of taste, but it certainly on offer if you want to buy it.

Just as theatre can provide an intellectual feast for long reflection or an astringent palette cleanser to remove a veneer of sickly sweetness from your life, it can provide comfort food too. Kim’s Convenience is that exactly that, a big hot bowl of noodles after a long day - and, sometimes, that’s just what you need.

• Kim's Convenience at the Riverside Studios until 26 October
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