THE QUIET COST OF BELONGING
Suh’s Thanksgiving duet is lovely and lived-in,
but leaves one wishing for deeper stakes

The Heart Sellers at South Coast Rep offers a focused, uninterrupted glimpse into the lives of two strangers on Thanksgiving Day, 1973, near the end of Richard Nixon’s reign. The story begins with Luna (Nicole Javier), a vivacious Filipina immigrant, bringing a shy Korean woman, Jane (Narea Kang), into her modest apartment. Tanya Orellana’s set captures the texture of a 1970s home with uncanny accuracy, from avocado appliances to mustard-patterned Naugahyde kitchen chairs. It’s not just a nostalgic backdrop; it’s an environment that breathes.

Their meeting stems from a chance encounter at the supermarket, where Luna, having bought a frozen turkey she has no idea how to cook, impulsively invites Jane over. Both are new immigrants to the U.S., both married to overworked medical residents, and both facing the holiday alone. Luna’s energetic chatter contrasts with Jane’s hesitancy, creating a dynamic that unfolds with humor and tenderness. Luna, eager to connect, wants to honor Jane by using her “real name,” but when Jane shares it, Luna realizes it’s as hard for her to pronounce as it is for Americans, so “Jane” it is.

The title of Lloyd Suh’s 90-minute one-act cleverly nods to the Hart-Celler Act (the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965), which reformed U.S. immigration policy by abolishing discriminatory quotas against Southern and Eastern Europeans as well as Asians. The law opened the door, but walking through it wasn’t simple.

Both women represent a generation of newcomers from Asia arriving in the late sixties and seventies. Through their conversation, and Jane’s hesitant foray into wine, we glimpse the isolation faced by many immigrants of the era. Luna confesses that, other than a plumber, Jane is the first person she’s invited over since moving in. The difficulty of forming friendships resonates quietly throughout.

Suh maintains a light, sweet tone. as his plotless play centers not on cultural differences but on shared struggles to adapt and belong. As the women bond with gentle excitement, their loneliness gives way to joy in finding a kindred spirit. They revel in everything from Kmart to incomprehensible holidays to pop culture on TV. In a paisley top and denim wrap skirt (costumes by Anthony Tran), Luna dashes about gushing about her apartment, her past, and most of all her new life in America. Luna speaks fluent English, while Jane, less confident at first, reveals hidden fluency as their trust deepens. Watching Jane find her voice is particularly heartwarming, as Luna listens with genuine care.

One of the most-produced plays in America in the past year, this is a gentle experience, but not meaty, and a few passages could use sharper dialogue. The story might have soared with additional characters; had we met their husbands, for instance, it could have added the missing conflict and a richer layer to the immigrant experience. It’s a shame that accomplished dramatists like Suh and his peers are writing plays designed for smaller budgets at the expense of dramatic breadth. What could have been riveting is merely slight.

They drink Lancer’s rosé from garish coffee cups and have laugh attacks like adolescent girls, joking about a “naughty” adventure like going to see a porno—something they’ll never do, of course. They love Soul Train, dancing goofily when a song hits the radio. It’s a charming depiction of two new friends getting to know each other in a new country, however inconsequential the proceedings. With considerate direction by Jennifer Chang, the performances by Javier and Kang are captivating and luminous, drawing us into their burgeoning friendship with authenticity and warmth, reminding us that sometimes all it takes to feel a little less alone is a bottle of wine and someone who finally listens.

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photos by Robert Huskey/SCR

The Heart Sellers
South Coast Rep
Julianne Argyros Stage, 655 Town Center Drive in Costa Mesa
90 minutes, no intermission
ends on November 16, 2025
for tickets ($36 to $139), call 714.708.5555 or visit SCR

for more shows, visit Theatre in LA

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