REVIEW: Ins Choi debuts impassioned new solo musical at Vancouver’s Pacific Theatre

iPhoto caption: Photo by Chelsey Stuyt.

Reviews

/By Reham Cojuangco / Apr 8, 2025

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Dusty Springfield sang it first: “The only boy who could ever teach me / Was the son of a preacher man.” In his latest world premiere, Ins Choi explores the resonances of this idea.

The 128 seats of Vancouver’s snug Pacific Theatre are split into north and south sections facing each other, with the stage in between. This intimate setting perfectly suits the touching and (holy-) spirited Son of a Preacherman.

The set (designed by Jessica Oostergo) looks like a page right out of an I Spy book, with much to attract your eyes. Pages of lined paper covered in notes, photographs, and small art prints adorn two opposing walls. Strewn in the foreground are empty crates, banker’s boxes, and canvases on folded easels. A lounge chair sits in one corner. The setting is a nod to Choi’s father’s quaint storage locker office, which the playwright-performer fondly remembers from his adolescence.

Part storytelling event, part standup comedy, part concert, Son of a Preacherman traces Choi’s life story. The cast includes Choi and three actor-musicians (musical director Haneul Yi, Ben Elliot, and Rachel Angco) who play guitar, keyboard, and drums respectively. Visible onstage throughout the show’s one hour and 20 minute runtime, they punctuate Choi’s singing with soft harmonies and sometimes join him for cameos as fleeting yet vivacious characters.

As the show’s title suggests, Choi is the son of a retired preacher, and comes from a long line of clergy. As a P.K. (preacher’s kid), he grew up with the pressure of the congregation scrutinizing his behaviour, and had to befriend every new child that joined the church. But by his own admission, Choi wasn’t gifted in the latter activity. 

He recounts what it was like to have his only Asian male representation be Bruce Lee and David Suzuki, and talks about how that landscape has changed as he’s grown up. He even mentions his own contribution to Asian representation, the hit play Kim’s Convenience, which later became a CBC TV show.

He shares family lore about escaping from the north of Korea to the south. At one point, he peels back the rugs to draw a rudimentary map of Korea, Japan, and China on the floor, giving a quick history lesson on the origins and outcome of the Korean War.

Before he was born, Choi’s mother made an offering to God that if she bore a son, he would dedicate his life to service in the church. Choi points out that this is exactly like the Bible story of Hannah, mother of the prophet Samuel. But what he came to learn in Bible college was that he wanted to be an actor and create stories, a path he then decided to pursue — a tough sell for both of his parents when he’s already been promised to God.

At a point when he nearly gave up on acting, Choi became the leader of children’s ministry at his Toronto church — a fact reflected in the innocence and playfulness of many of the songs. Echoing differing styles of gospel/church music, from classical to modern, the songs touch on what Jesus might be like if he were alive today, as well as Choi’s childhood musings, personal journey of discovery, and path toward creative success.

While he doesn’t detail how he built his impressive theatrical career, Choi says Jesus sanctioned his pursuit of the arts by visiting him during a nap, relieving him of his maternal pledge. An evidently humble person, it’s apparent that Choi’s tenacity, strength, and incredible chutzpah (undoubtedly gifts from the holy spirit) played huge roles in what he’s cultivated.

One musical standout is a love song that Angco sings sweetly as Jono Kim’s lighting beautifully illuminates two photos of Choi’s late grandparents on the set’s walls, just after Choi’s told us their story, including mention of the Korean tradition of charye (an ancestral memorial service performed during Lunar New Year). Wearing his traditional hanbok, Choi bows in gratitude to his grandmother’s image. At this sincere display of recognition, I choked back a couple of tears.

At times the show leans so heavily on language and motifs from sermons that it felt as if I was back in church. But this wasn’t like the services I occasionally dozed through during my upbringing. Although Choi serves familiar sermon tropes like ebullient arm gesticulations, purposeful pauses for effect, and piercing yet compassionate eye contact with his audience, there’s a heartfelt and earnest quality to his performance that shines. Son of a Preacherman reminded me of the wholesomeness inherent in most church communities, and the ways the congregation often uplifts one another. It feels warm and vulnerable, and invites the audience to lean in and listen to every word and parable uttered.

Perhaps Choi ended up a preacher after all — one that performs on stage. His devotion to his craft feels unconditional. The show is a salutary reminder to those of us that grew up with the word of God of what it means to truly live with spiritual vitality, and shows those that didn’t what it looks like to be a steadfast man of faith.

Because faith is the message at this show’s core. Faith in your beliefs, faith in your passions, faith in your calling, and, most of all — faith in yourself.

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Son of a Preacherman runs at Pacific Theatre in Vancouver until April 13. Tickets are available here.

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Intermission reviews are independent and unrelated to Intermission’s partnered content. Learn more about Intermission’s partnership model here.

WRITTEN BY

Reham Cojuangco

Reham Cojuangco is a FilipinX arts journalist living and creating in the unceded traditional territories of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh Nations. Once described as "an iron fist in a velvet glove," she writes to spotlight the experiences of marginalized people as well as stories that uplift their joy.

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