Theater review: ‘Two Dogs’ Opinions on Life’ at the Kennedy Center

(Kennedy Center) - Han Pengyi, left, and Liu Xiaoye play country canines who move to Beijing in “Two Dogs’ Opinions on Life,” a production of the National Theatre of China.

When the Beatles wrote “Yellow Submarine,” they probably didn’t imagine it wrapping up a National Theatre of China production about ambitious pooches. But the song once warbled by Ringo Starr got a delightfully deadpan makeover from performer Han Pengyi in the closing moments of the comedy “Two Dogs’ Opinions on Life” the other night. The play, written and directed by Meng Jinghui, ran at the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater on Tuesday and Wednesday as part of the series “China: The Art of a Nation.”

The Fab Four-borrowing was just one of the enjoyably oddball elements in “Two Dogs,” a tossed salad of improv, rock music, Laurel-and-Hardy-style double act and careful social satire, performed in Mandarin Chinese with English supertitles. Ensconced on a set that resembled a minimalist junkyard — abandoned tires, cardboard boxes, a squat armchair — the 100-minute show starred Han and Liu Xiaoye as, respectively, Wang Cai and Lai Fu, two rural canines who trek to the big city to pursue their dreams.

The urban wonderland, of course, proves not so wonderful: A rich family takes in Wang Cai, who invites Lai Fu over to pig out on culinary delicacies, then work the calories off on a treadmill. But when the newly adopted pet wanders outside and loses his dog license, he’s thrown in prison; meanwhile, Lai Fu sits in a nearby cafe drinking cappuccino.

A later stage in the adventure finds the scrappy pals competing on, and being ruthlessly eliminated from, an “American Idol”-style TV competition called — what else? — “China’s Next Top Dog.” (The recent news that a hugely popular Chinese TV talent show called “Super Girl” has been canceled — officially for going over its prescribed time limit, though some suspect censorship — gave this scene a jot of topicality.)

Eventually declared critters non grata by the urban authorities, the mongrels hightail it back to the countryside — a twist that seems to speak of the challenges of realizing aspirations in modern China. On the other hand, a jokey sequence in which Wang Cai, suffering from appendicitis, is operated on by a doctor who charges him extra for anesthesia and stitches, might have been invented by U.S. comedians milking the health-care debate.

With its sly allusions to Viagra, Michael Jackson and Wagner’s “The Ring of the Nibelung,” not to mention its periodic rock riffs (a guitarist and a bassist sat stage right, and the actors sometimes chipped in on guitar and drums), “Two Dogs” boasted a good deal of cross-cultural accessibility. The youthful vibe and comic flair of the actors — who exuded punk raffishness in their shorts, jackets, grubby ties and hiking boots — helped. Han in particular is one of those performers who can make the simplest movements and expressions funny: A running joke in which Wang Cai dropped to his knees and bawled for his mother was hilarious.

Playwright and director Meng built audience participation into the play: At one point the dogs, finding themselves particularly cash-strapped, requisitioned the pocketbooks of theatergoers in the front row.

It all made for rather loose-knit entertainment, but then “Two Dogs” is, well, a shaggy-dog story.

Upcoming offerings in “China: The Art of a Nation” include the Beijing People’s Art Theatre production of “Top Restaurant,” a play about a Peking-duck eatery. It will run in the Eisenhower Theater from Sept. 30 to Oct. 2.

China: The Art of a Nation

Through Oct. 30 at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Visit www.kennedy-center.org, or call 202-467-4600 or 800-444-1324.

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