[On Stage] The Age of Barbarism Is Not Over... Play "Gaenggyeong"

An Octogenarian Trapped in 1970s Logic
From Slaughterhouse to Kitchen, Only the Setting Has Changed
Despite Dazzling Progress,
Some Lives Remain Precarious

In the play 'Gaenggyeong', currently being performed at the Doosan Art Center, the presence of Cheontae, an old man in his 80s, is intense. He resembles a wild beast. Cheontae's speech has no ups or downs. He always spits out his words as if barking them impatiently. It sounds like the roar of a beast trying to break the other's spirit. His hair stands on end like the bristling fur of a wild animal, and his gaze rarely lands directly on his conversation partner. Yet, his eyes blaze as if ready to devour them.

There is a metallic, raw smell to Cheontae's life. In his younger days, he worked at a large slaughterhouse in Busan, splitting open the bellies of hundreds of pigs every day. The floor of his workplace was always slick with blood.

The lunchbox kitchen where Cheontae now works is entirely different from the old slaughterhouse. It is spotless without a speck of dust, and the shiny stainless-steel fixtures seem impervious to being stained or rusted by blood.

Scene from the play 'Gaeng-gyeong'. Doosan Art Center

Here, people from various generations, from their 20s to their 60s, work together to prepare lunchboxes. Geumok, in her 60s, is Cheontae's biological daughter. In his youth, Cheontae abandoned her, claiming he could not raise her in prosperity, but now, embarrassingly, he is forced to rely on her as he grows older. The owner of the kitchen is his granddaughter Piyeong, whom he had never seen before. Now in her 40s, Piyeong started the kitchen with a woman her age, Monggo, using government support funds. Young chefs in their 20s and 30s, Bari and Dorothy, also work in Piyeong's kitchen.

Perhaps it is this unimaginable cleanliness itself that bothers Cheontae. He repeatedly glorifies his days at the Busan slaughterhouse, where he endlessly slit open pigs. He is unsatisfied watching Bari and Dorothy trim pork gingerly. He doesn’t like it when his granddaughter and boss, Piyeong, uses polite language to the employees. He scolds her for watching the employees too closely, demanding to know why the boss needs to tiptoe around staff. Even in an era when artificial intelligence (AI) is transforming the world, Cheontae still preaches the blind logic of the 1970s under President Park Chung-hee.

At first glance, Cheontae recalls the image of an 'Old Potter' or 'the Old Man Who Carved Clubs.' However, if it was craftsmanship that defined those elder characters, for Cheontae, craftsmanship is only a small part. The majority of his character is stubbornness.

The arm Cheontae lost in an accident serves as a device that renders his stubbornness almost pitiable. He received 130 million won in insurance compensation for his industrial accident. This is why Piyeong, whose own grandfather abandoned her mother, ultimately took him in. Since Piyeong is barely managing to pay her employees’ wages, it was not easy for her to do so.

Although the blood-soaked slaughterhouse has transformed into a gleaming stainless-steel kitchen, the lives of the people living within have hardly changed. There is so much mediocrity that failure comes easily, and in a world like this, striving to maintain one’s dignity can lead to starving to death.

Performance scene from the play 'Gaengseong'. Doosan Art Center

The precarious atmosphere of the play, fragile from the very beginning like a candle in the wind, becomes turbulent when Cheontae suffers an accident. There are moments that feel somewhat clichéd or contrived. Yet, with Cheontae’s accident, the latent savagery within Piyeong, Bari, and Dorothy comes to the forefront. The cold logic of survival that drives today's capitalist society is exposed starkly as the characters vie for insurance payouts and unemployment benefits.

The kitchen is a precious space where food that sustains us is made. At the same time, it is a dangerous place, filled with hot and sharp tools. Despite its dazzling advancements, the kitchen becomes a metaphor for modern society, where precarious lives still lurk everywhere.

Perhaps because of Cheontae’s grip on the past, the narrative sometimes feels like an old, worn-out tale. Yet the playwright pushes the story forward with the tenacity of a wild animal. From that doggedness, an overwhelming power is felt.

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.