Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.

“yellow roses, mãi mãi” — a show after my own heart.

The Stanford Asian American Theater Project’s (AATP) winter mainstage production ran from Feb. 27 to Mar. 1 in Roble Arts Gym’s Studio 113, a departure from the AATP’s usual residence in the Nitery.

Written and directed by Phong Nguyễn ’25, “yellow roses, mãi mãi” tells the story of two Vietnamese American friends, Brighton and Tara — played by Carolyn Ky ’24 and Mina Phipps ’25, respectively —  who find themselves lost on what to write for a nebulous English assignment on the “definition of home.” Brighton and Tara choose to interview their mothers, who are both played by Francesca Fernandes ’25, and embark on a journey where the differences between their mothers and themselves become harder to define.

Setting an AATP mainstage production anywhere but the Nitery feels like a break from tradition. Studio 113 is a large space with huge mirrors, long windows and a lot of exposed area. DANCE 46: Social Dance I is held here — it’s hardly your traditional theater stage. 

It was disorienting seeing a theater production with so much vertical and horizontal emptiness; at times, it felt like the cast was working overtime to fill the space. The set pieces, designed by Aredhel Martin ’28, filled up horizontal space, and the stage projections, designed by Hân Đào ’26, made use of the expansive back wall. The set pieces — simple, bright white bookshelves — looked almost sterile if not for the wide array of foods that could be found in a Vietnamese home — Maggi soy sauce, Mi Mama instant noodle packs, Ba Cô Gái (Three Ladies brand) rice paper.

The bookshelves were soon transformed into grocery store aisles — an impressive shift given the space’s limitations. Another notable set piece was the mattress. With its blankets and straw-like rug underneath, it took me back to sleepovers at my grandma’s with my sister and cousins. We grew up on similar bedcovers, and the set piece caused a wave of nostalgia for the physical closeness I once shared with them.

Houston Taylor ’24 designed the costumes, which were key in telling each character’s story. I saw people from my community — at my temple, in the 99 Ranch, in Vietnam Town — reflected in the style of flowy pants and short sleeve shirts that Phipps and Ky wore playing Vietnamese parents in flashback scenes. Ky’s whimsical, childlike characterization of Brighton was accentuated by the colorful and fun pieces Brighton wore, while Phipps’ more reserved and reflective Tara wore flowy pieces that added flair during reflective monologues.

Delving further into the aesthetics of “yellow roses,” the photoshoot showcased on the AATP Instagram and the promotional flyer designed by Dalynn Miller ’25 complemented each other well. The warm shades of yellow in the actors’ clothing felt warm and homey, and the yellow roses on the flyer reminded me of hoa mai — bright yellow flowers I associate heavily with Tết (Vietnamese Lunar New Year), family, joy and homecoming — which I caught glimpses of throughout this production.

While I felt the English assignment plot was a bit cliche upon its introduction, it was the catalyst for two narratively impactful moments. The first was the painting scene where Tara converses with her mother about “painting outside the lines” and invites audience members to engage in their own unbounded art-making using pens and paper left beneath each viewer’s seat. The second: the scene where Brighton and Tara learn to make bánh xèo (crispy pastries filled with bean sprouts and shrimp) together, with Brighton recalling and then passing on her mother’s wisdom to Tara as the two friends make the savory treat.

A hallmark of Nguyễn’s shows seems to be a choreographed dance in the closing minutes of a production. “yellow roses” was no exception. Towards the end, the sounds of the show faded away, with the actors’ passion showcased in movements that toed the line between precise choreography and improvised contemporary dance. 

Each movement seemed to tell an individual story of pain mixed with joy. Ky was the first to dance, slowly rising from her seated position on the floor to move around the space, reaching into the shelves to pull down limes, a bag of rice, a box of instant ramen. Phipps followed, and after she returned to her seated position, Fernandes closed the dance, also unloading groceries. But when the shelves cleared, Fernandes ran downstage, seeming to cry at some unseeable foe or specter, her eyes full of terror as Ky and Phipps held and comforted her.

As the lights dimmed and the background music faded away, sniffles were heard throughout the audience. To me, it was no surprise; the only theater production that has ever made me audibly sniffle and cry silently (the only form of media that’s ever evoked this reaction in me, really) was AATP’s “410[GONE]” from November 2023. I remember many sniffles after Nguyễn’s dance sequence, a dance sequence he helped choreograph like the one in “yellow roses.” It seems I will continue to remember these moments of artistry with each of Nguyễn’s productions.