MEI MAC

MEI MAC: RESISTING THROUGH THE FORM OF ART


The Hong Kong-British actress’ encounter with the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production, ‘My Neighbour Totoro’, reminds us again of the inspiration which Studio Ghibli has to offer to the Asian diaspora.

I didn’t know what to expect when I was outside the Barbican Centre, waiting to see the theatrical production of My Neighbour Totoro. Studio Ghibli is more than my childhood. People speak of it as a phenomenon by the fact that it’s a world-renowned name rooting from an East Asian background, which rarely ever happens in a Western-dominated cultural scene. But for me, and many of my Asian counterparts, it is much more than that. These films are worlds of wonders that shaped our values of the complexity of life, love, and acceptance – often undiscussed topics in traditional Asian families. Visually and thematically speaking, it is, to a very large extent, the epitome of Japanese animation. Never have I imagined the production version of a Ghibli work to be on the same level, or even surpass the original film. However, My Neighbour Totoro succeeded – it left everyone in surprise, in awe, and even tears.

INTERVIEWER JANE ZHENG

PHOTOGRAPHER DAVID REISS

“We were very clear that we cannot just recreate the film on stage. That's not the point of theatre. We have to offer something different, something new, something exciting. Because people will ask: ‘why stage something already so perfect?’ Well, the point is to breathe new life into it.” Mei Mac, who happens to play her eponymous character, Mei Kusakabe, explains the mindset of this live presentation. Being involved in this project since its very initial stages almost three years ago, she understood what made the theatrical medium irreplaceable. “The thing that only theatre can do is to provide atmosphere. It’s the feeling that the audience are seeing something altogether that tomorrow night no one will see, because it'll be different tomorrow night. You're watching something that should be impossible, made possible.” Mac doesn’t speak with exaggeration. Whoever has seen the original film will walk into the theatre room and think there is no way that Totoro or the Cat Bus could be recreated. Yet, it wasn’t about recreating – it was about believing that these creatures exist in that room with the audience. Frankly, none of the props or puppets were crafted with the scarcest material in the world because that wasn’t necessary – the actors and the puppeteers who delivered the atmosphere were all that was ever needed. It was about bringing these characters alive; it was about trusting the magic in the moment. And this wouldn’t have happened without Mei Mac.

Having matching names with a role doesn’t always imply perfection. Still, after having seen the show, I don’t think I can give it justice without mentioning that Mac was destined to be Mei Kusakabe. The protagonist is a four-year-old girl who often is unable to express her emotions ‘rationally’ in a mature way. Instead. She is curious, fearless, and passionate about the world around her – an important spirit that adults often lose, therefore making her an extremely challenging role. Mac didn’t fall in the tendency of seeing a child character as simply naïve: “as adults, we tend to not give children as much credit as they deserve for what they understand. They may not necessarily understand the exact words that you're using, but they understand the atmosphere. They understand human emotions. They understand people's relationships. I think that's something that I've made sure to think about when I play Mei.” Quite candidly, what was needed to master the nuances was straightforward: to not be patronising and to realise that Mei’s way of life is still palpable even as adults. Mac summarises flawlessly, “it’s all about playing the character of Mei without trying to pretend to be a child. It's playing the truth of that childlike human emotion that as adults we still have, but we’re just trying to cover up.”

To understand why she grasped the personality of Mei Kusakabe so naturally, Mac shares her view on theatre and where her perspective stems from. “Something that I love about theatre is that it's the practice of empathy. I wanted to be a doctor because I thought that would help make the world a better place. And yes, what I'm doing is not surgery, it's not saving people's lives, but it's adding something to people's quality of lives and it's allowing people to practise the art of empathy with other human beings and the world around them.”

Her experience of growing up in a first-generation Asian immigrant family in Britain is where the empathic approach to her role roots from. Members of our community often have a similar story of intergenerational trauma and misunderstandings of each other’s values. Predictably, this applied to Mac too. Whether it was the ‘tiger parent’, referring to strict parenting in the hope of their child’s success that was determined by STEM subjects. Mac didn’t win the lottery to receive support from her parents since day one. Her parents pinned hopes on Mac to pull them out of poverty by expecting her to do medicine – a degree that will certainly lead her to a stable career unlike the arts. “I'm not sure if my mother would appreciate me saying this, but it is my truth and I hope that people who read this interview will get some comfort from it. I was disowned for a few years because I brought so much shame onto the family and it was deemed that I was ungrateful for the education that I was lucky enough to receive. Obviously, that comes from a place of fear and love because of the history of what our community has been through.”

Hearing Mac’s story, the slogan, “the personal is political” that was used during the second wave of feminism, came to my mind. This slogan crossed my mind because it embodies the journey of our community, where pain is frequently associated with individual weakness rather than collective agony. These personal anecdotes of love and divide which perpetuates to this day are heavily sowed in the erasure of Asian immigration history in the West. Whether that’s the occupation of Hong Kong by Britain, the Sino-Japanese War, or the Cultural Revolution – our parents’ lives have regularly been determined by exploitation and sacrifice, which explains why for many of them, the most ambitious decision to make is to live a quiet, steady life. Art was what helped Mac and other members of the Asian diaspora to overcome these generational struggles. It became our way to revel in joy; our way of resistance in a world that feels oppressive.

Aspiring to be an actor whilst coming from Asian descent is difficult, purely because there often isn’t anyone there to demonstrate the road to success. Explicitly, it’s the lack of representation. “I literally wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the activists’ shoulders I stand on.” – hence why Mac co-founded ‘Rising Waves’, a platform that connects with emerging Asian artists to nurture a forward-looking culture of skill-sharing and to champion each other by support. The fact that My Neighbour Totoro opened doors for an all-Asian show is also part of Mac’s endeavour. “I think I sent a list of about 55 East and Southeast Asian actors to the team who I thought would be brilliant on the project. They were so receptive, and they wanted to do that with us. It's so empowering to have these allies support the community and want to do it right – the way that it should be.”

“There is a tendency that a lot of our immigrant stories are full of trauma, and that's the truth. But we as a community deserve joy. It’s important and necessary for healing, and I think that's what Totoro provides the community as well as our audience. Because it holds delight, magic, and wonder, as well as holding grief, pain, and destruction in post war Japan. And I think that's why this story is perfect for now, after everything the East Asian community has been through, especially with anti-Asian hate crime as well as COVID and everything on top of that.” Mac’s point of view highlights exactly why Studio Ghibli is so exceptional to the Asian diaspora. Though appraised globally, it fundamentally resonates on a different level to us because of the collective memories that we share and the often-ignored truth that we can also inspire the world with our culture and storytelling.

Watching the Totoro production was such an empowering moment for me and the broader community. With Mei Mac sharing touching moments behind the scenes, it reminds us again that the narrative by Miyazaki Hayao is not just a fairytale for children – it has a timeless spirit and attitude that still resonates. Perhaps, no one can define this cultural gift better than Mei Mac herself, who sees the journey through the eyes of the valiant Mei Kusakabe. “The beauty of [My Neighbour Totoro] is how it portrays that anyone is capable of magic, especially for our young audiences. We've had so many East Asian kids come to see the show. I want them to leave the theatre believing that they are magic, that they are powerful and that they can make anything happen.”


Photographer: DAVID REISS

Stylist: HARRIET NICOLSON

Hair: SHUKEEL MURTAZA

Makeup: SNOWKEI LAN

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