‘Kim’s Convenience’ review: Back onstage with sitcom warmth intact

“Kim’s Convenience” may not win points for originality, but originality isn’t really the point of an immigrant family drama meant to be instantly, one might say universally, recognizable.

The play, which opened Tuesday at the Ahmanson Theatre, was a runaway hit at the 2011 Toronto Fringe Festival. That success led to a larger production at Toronto’s Soulpepper Theatre that brought more attention to the show, paving the way for runs off-Broadway, in London’s West End and Washington, D.C.

But the show’s familiarity has another source. “Kim’s Convenience,” which was turned into a sitcom for Canada’s CBC, found an international audience on Netflix.

The story is set in Toronto, and the Kim family (owners of the titular convenience store) is of Korean background. But immigrants from Ireland, Italy, Latin America, India and Eastern Europe and their more assimilated children won’t have any problems relating to the generational conflicts at the heart of this gentle comedy.

Author Ins Choi, who once played the role of the prodigal son, has matured into the part of Appa, the patriarch who left Korea with his wife, Umma (Esther Chung), to start a new life in Canada. He opened a 7-Eleven-style shop, which he once considered calling 7-12, and has been living above the store with his family in what has been an all-hands operation.

Appa made sacrifices to give his son and daughter a better life — and he’s more than happy to tick off a list of what everyone owes him. He’s a mostly benevolent tyrant, but his crotchety side can get ugly and he’s not always in control of his temper. His son Jung (Ryan Jinn) ran away at 16, absconding with money from the store safe, after one of Appa’s flare-ups sent him to the hospital.

Janet (Kelly Seo), Appa’s 30-year-old unmarried daughter, bears the brunt of being the adult child who remained at home. She still works at the store, though her true calling is photography. Her father considers this just a hobby, a weekend recreation that shouldn’t interfere with her taking over the store one day. But she has other ideas for her future.

Change is coming whether Appa likes it or not. A Walmart is heading to the area, and with this news comes an unexpected offer for the shop that would allow him to comfortably retire. But selling the store is tantamount to discarding his story.

He explains this to Janet, hoping that she’ll continue his legacy. But she’s put her life on hold for too long. Both her parents never let her forget that she still doesn’t have a husband. But how can she get married when her father subjects any man she dates to the third degree?

Alex (Brandon McKnight), the police officer who answers the 911 call Appa had Janet place to report a Japanese car parked illegally by the store (he still hasn’t forgiven Japan for its invasion of Korea), turns out to be a childhood friend of Jung’s — and someone Janet used to have a crush on. The sparks between them are obvious, and Appa, the soul of indiscretion, can’t help meddling in his overbearing way.

Choi isn’t averse to shtick, if the result is an explosion of audience laughter. One comic gimmick involves Appa’s superhuman grip that can subdue even the mightiest of men. A shoplifter (also played by McKnight, who portrays all the customers and passersby) learns the hard way that Appa is not to be underestimated.

Esther Chung, left, and Ins Choi in “Kim’s Convenience” at the Ahmanson.

(Dahlia Katz)

The scene involves an unsavory routine on how to recognize a shoplifter. Janet challenges Appa’s racist assumptions, but father knows best and no one can convince him otherwise. Janet can’t win with him, but don’t count Appa’s daughter out.

Or his son, for that matter. Jung, who acknowledges a stint in rehab, hasn’t had an easy path in life, but he’s stayed in touch with his mother and eventually he and his dad will have their dramatically inevitable reckoning. There’s something determinedly hopeful about “Kim’s Convenience,” which like the store it’s named after, wants its patrons to leave satisfied.

The cast members, under the direction of Weyni Mengesha, all deserve high customer ratings. Choi’s Appa is impossible to stay mad at even when he’s said or done something unforgivable. He doesn’t mean to offend, though other people’s feelings are a luxury he has never been able to afford.

Still, his paternal bluntness is not without its infuriating charm, as when he informs his headstrong daughter, “You have to understand, now is desperation time for you. Sudden death, overtime, penalty kick shoot out. Expiration date is over. Take over store is only choice you having.”

Esther Chung and Ryan Jinn in “Kim’s Convenience” at the Ahmanson.

(Dahlia Katz)

Seo’s Janet is as feisty as she is loyal, making it easy to root for her and her quickly budding romance with McKnight’s worthy Alex. Chung’s Umma doesn’t take up a lot of room in the play, but her maternal presence registers sharply nonetheless. Jinn endows Jung with hidden dimensions of pain and regret.

But the most vivid performance might in fact be the convenience store itself, brought to fluorescent, sanitized, colorful life by scenic designer Joanna Yu and lighting designer Wen-Ling Liao. Nicole Eun-Ju Bell’s video and projection designs subtly transpose the setting when, for instance, Umma meets up with her son at church. The production seems right at home at the Ahmanson, a function of both the broad sitcom-friendly style and the warm Korean American reception that was audible at Tuesday’s opening.

“Kim’s Convenience” has an eager-to-please TV sensibility that can seem formulaic at times. But representation, particularly these days, can be a radical act, and there’s something heartening at the sight of the Kim family enjoying their turn in the mainstream spotlight.