‘Within These Walls’ and ‘Dreams of Flight’ Have Wings on Angel Island (Review)
Lenora Lee Dance’s two site-responsive dance productions are a moving tribute to the island’s history
It’s been raining all week, and today is no different. I’ve woken up early on a Saturday morning to make the trek across San Francisco to the pier, where my ferry awaits to take me to Angel Island. On its quick trip through the Bay, the boat passes the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island. Looking back, Ghirardelli Square and Coit Tower recede into the distance, and, ahead of us, the shores of Sausalito and the Marin Headlands come into view. I’ve seen these famous sights time and time again, growing ever more weary of their touristy excesses, their overpriced chowder, and their brightly colored sweatshirts, marketed directly to visitors who packed for their vacation expecting the sunny shores to our south.
And yet today will be my first visit to Angel Island. The island is accessible only by ferry and is nestled in the middle of the bay, to the northeast of the city of San Francisco. Administered by California State Parks, on a clear day, one can reportedly see views of the San Francisco skyline, Mount Tam, the Golden Gate Bridge, and even as far as Napa and San Jose from here. Hiking trails can be found traversing the island, and a small bar and cafe serve the island’s many visitors, often offering live music. However, on my visit, I could appreciate none of this as a thick fog had enveloped the island and a constant drizzle threatened to become a downpour. The inhabitants and employees of the island seemed incredulous as we stepped off the ferry and onto the shuttle that would carry us to the Immigration station on the northeast corner of the island.
Between 1910 and 1940, the US Immigration Station on Angel Island processed immigrants from 84 different nations, primarily those arriving from Asian countries. Chief among their concerns was enforcement of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 and investigating those who had been denied entry, seeking to prove they had family who were US citizens and could therefore avoid deportation. Invasive medical examinations and interminable interrogations were targeted at specific racial groups, and many were detained for months or even years while awaiting their fateful decision. After a fire destroyed the administrative building in 1940, immigration processing was moved to the mainland. The facility fell into disrepair and might have been destroyed if not for the discovery of Chinese words and characters etched into the walls of the facility and the successful lobbying by the Chinese American community to designate the facility as a National Historic Landmark.
Lenora Lee’s grandparents were just three of the countless people detained on Angel Island, and, in 2017, the Lenora Lee Dance company first mounted Within These Walls. It is an apt title, as the artfully staged site-responsive dance production is dedicated to and retells the stories of the Chinese immigrants who lived and breathed within the confines of the compound. And as if the story of America’s first immigration restrictions was not compelling and embarrassing enough, the interceding two years since 2017 have only proven how relevant and necessary their stories remain.
Upon arrival, the audience is introduced to the facility and the cast of characters via two wardens (our performance was beset by some audio technical difficulties that were easily overcome by eschewing the microphones overall, as they proved unnecessary given the intimacy of the scale). The harsh exposition is contrasted with the cast’s fluid, skillful contemporary dance. Their hopes and fears are neatly and effectively conveyed through their movements. The audience is led into two different entrances, and from this point forward, the audience is largely free to roam, entering and exiting a variety of converging and diverging storylines and physical spaces. From the sleeping quarters, to the showers and bathrooms, to recreational areas and dining halls, to museum exhibits, and to staircases, hallways, and to other liminal unmarked spaces. We are witness to the most mundane, monotonous moments of the detainees’ interminable tenure, as well as riveting, suspenseful, and consequential events. Finite moments seem to stretch on for hours, while months and years can be condensed into a single movement (one particularly starting instance features a cacophony of ping pong balls).
Beyond the introductory exposition and the show’s devastating concluding act, the players remain almost entirely wordless (the wardens excepted in a few occasions — their barked orders harshly interrupting the intimate and fluid movements of the detainees.) In the place of spoken dialogue, pre-recorded words play over the speakers throughout the facility. Prose, poetry, and recreations of interrogations echo through the station. The words that are spoken are both incredibly specific and indelibly universal — the location comes alive and is given a voice through Within These Walls. It is unavoidable, and no attempt is made to hide, that we are standing in a museum. Photo displays show the faces of the real men, women, and children whose stories are dramatized, and the actors dance through and interact with the many recreations and artifacts that abound in the historic site. The importance of the words inscribed upon the wall (also on full display and incorporated in the performance) is manifest not only in what reverberates over the speaker, but also in the Chinese symbols incorporated into the dance itself, hands fluidly etching the characters into the space around them.
Within These Walls’ remount is supplemented by its sequel, Dreams of Flight. The latter serves as an epilogue, ostensibly the chance to follow the characters after the conclusion of the original production. If I had one quibble, it is that the addition of the later scenes felt anticlimactic after such a moving and devastating finale in Within These Walls. The additional 30 minutes of Dreams of Flight were equally beautiful, and the aftermath of the play’s conclusion is ripe for exploration. However, despite adding to the story, the final moments felt repetitive — with the exception of a significant, devastating change for one character (although this may have been by design, as the sequel follows the characters through the arduous process of appeal). It is also worth noting that the finale of our particular performance was rerouted to a previously used space due to the growing rainfall, which may have contributed to the feeling of repetition. This is a minor quibble, though, with what was overall an incredibly powerful and relevant production.
The production concluded, and the audience filed out of the station. Much of the audience remained behind to view the pieces again, as the show is performed twice per day, allowing participants to further explore the many storylines and spaces they might have missed on a single viewing. Others boarded the shuttle across the island to the ferry station. With several hours until the next departing ferry, my party found our way to island’s small cafe. On a nicer day, the island’s many hiking trails and panoramic vistas would have provided more than enough diversion to occupy the span of a few hours. However, as the constant drizzle persisted, and the fog yielded only the faintest vision of the bustling metropolis to our south, we were left only to ponder the experience we had just witnessed.
A century ago, Americans locked humans away on this island for the simple crime of being the “other.” As decades and generations have passed, we look back with shame and regret at the way our fellow humans were treated. And yet, it is impossible to stand on Angel Island, to stand inches from a performer clinging to the chain link fence that separates them from their loved ones and binds them from their pursuit of happiness and freedom, without thinking of those who remain so imprisoned to this day.
As families are ripped apart in the name of political expediency, and children are locked away, starved, and — in far too many horrific examples — killed by untreated illness and neglect for the crime of fleeing persecution and abuse, Ms. Lee’s unflinching productions of Within These Walls and Dreams of Flight hold up a mirror to an America and a world that would much rather look the other way.
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