‘Dans La Cuisine Des Nguyen’: The Highs And Lows of Musical Theatre, Mothers & More!

Zarah Hashim
Aug 16
5 min read

Updated: Sep 14

Dans la Cuisine des Nguyen, or In the Nguyen Kitchen, is French director Stéphane Ly-Cuong’s incredible first film which discusses themes of identity, rootlessness and belonging. His directorial debut centres around the protagonist Yvonne Nguyen (played by Clotilde Chevalier), a musical theatre actress dreaming of her big break. Her aspirations are constantly shut down by her peers, including her partner who tells her to “stop hanging on” and that she should “give up on musicals.” This conversation results in their break up, leaving her no option but to move back in with her mother. Their strained relationship is evident from the get-go as Yvonne struggles to accept her Vietnamese heritage, whilst her mother struggles to understand Yvonne’s dreams of musical theatre. Their mother-daughter dynamic is central to the plot with the complex duo finding comforts, similarities, shame, and love all in the heart of the Nguyen kitchen. This domestic space foregrounds the love which is shared between these two incredibly different and sometimes stubborn women, initiating their resolve.

In his interview with Fabien Lemercier for Cineuropa, Ly-Cuong details that his character of Yvonne ‘allowed [him] to carry on exploring the themes which are dear to [him]: how we position ourselves between two cultures and two countries, and how we find our place.’ Upon my own watching of this film, I found that Ly-Cuong dissects this theme through his incredibly poignant portrayal of Yvonne and her mother (played by Anh Tran-Nghia), a Vietnamese immigrant who came to France during the Vietnamese War with her husband, who we find out is deceased. Her character, known as ‘Ma,’ is the epitome of a migrant mother. Having been born of immigrants myself, the accuracy with which Ly-Cuong portrays Ma and her relationship to Yvonne brought about an authenticity which made the film feel all the more vulnerable. Her disapproval of Yvonne’s dreams, “shame you’re not a doctor…” and her constant reminder of her own life and sacrifices “I left our country by boat… if I had known I’d have a daughter who would act in musicals I’d have turned around” explores how shame becomes the front of Ma’s concern for Yvonne. Her brutal honesty and outward disappointment further reflect how Ly-Cuong accurately explores the friction between a dual-cultured person as Yvonne is not the only one who fights this battle.

From my perspective, Ma is also a woman of dual culture, as is anyone who migrates. However, I found that Ma thought of Yvonne's struggle to accept her Vietnamese heritage and culture as a threat to her own identity, as she encouraged Yvonne to appreciate where she comes from through snarky and condescending comments such as: “a Vietnamese who has never stepped foot in Vietnam is like egg rolls without fish sauce, it’s not great.” Her criticism of Yvonne, however, reflects her own parenting which can be interpreted as a projection of her own insecurities. This discourse relates to the question: “why did you name me ‘Yvonne?’”, a seemingly ‘’western’’ name which I thought Yvonne carried with pride as it made her feel “more French.’’ Her name, Yvonne Nguyen, ultimately represents her duality: Franco-Vietnamese. I thought that this identifier surrounding the FMC was integral to Ly-Cuong’s mission of showcasing rootlessness, identity and dual culture in France and how the thing you carry with you from birth to death ultimately becomes you.

Further on in his Cineuropa interview, Lemercier asks Ly-Cuong about the tone of the film, to which Ly-Cuong explains how he wanted it to be a ‘joyful comedy’ that also encompasses ‘bittersweet moments and melancholy ones… for people to be able to laugh and cry.’ I can assure that this was achieved. There were moments of the film where I found myself smiling, mostly during the musical numbers, and there were times when I was teary-eyed and violently heartbroken. The film achieves both joy and pathos in such intimate ways that you’re left unmistakably jaw-dropped towards its conclusion.

Regarding tone, the film invites you to experience the racism prevalent in the musical theatre industry which we are roped into through Yvonne’s character. Her Asianess becomes her biggest obstacle as we see her attempt to audition for the play Marie Antoinette Disco Queen but gets rejected upon her arrival to the open audition: “... there is no part which matches your profile… Marie Antoinette Disco Queen is in the French Revolution.’’, to which Yvonne responds "don't you take liberties with history?”. This interaction struck me as the racism does not come in the form of a slur nor a stereotype, but rather in the implication that she is not white and therefore does not belong within this space. I thought, then, about Ly-Cuong’s ambition to highlight dual culture and identity. This scene was an incredible example in the discourse surrounding identity and belonging, and how moments like this further Yvonne’s rejection of her Vietnamese side. However, this industry, which she dreams of being a part of, exploits her Asianess and capitalises on that racism under the guise of the “wonders of Asia”. Ly-Cuong’s expertise lies within Theatre, hence his critique and exposure of its racism is incredibly brave and I commend him for challenging his industry.

There is an incredible line within this film said by the character Fu Fen, the only other Franco-Vietnamese actress who is essentially Yvonne’s competition for the role of The Lotus Flower (another racist tidbit). This line follows a conversation between Yvonne and Fu Fen as she sings her song to the casting directors towards the end of the film. Yvonne questions, “Did Phillipe ask you to put on an accent… Isn't it a bit ridiculous?” to which Fu Fen replies, “my parents speak with that accent. I don’t find them ridiculous.” The impact of this scene was immense as it demonstrates the internalised racism which Yvonne displays towards the other Asian characters and how she projects her insecurities. This line correlates to the revelation of how Ma knew of Yvonne’s shame towards her mother’s ‘otherness’ to French society, capturing the poignancy of this vulnerable and difficult topic. Ly-Cuong does a great job at highlighting these characters' complex natures whilst also directly challenging their notions and questioning the ‘why’ of it all.

Romance in this film, or rather the lack thereof, was something I myself enjoyed. I appreciated that Yvonne’s ‘happy ending’ did not involve a heteronormative narrative but rather her happiness was achieved by accepting herself and, through that, accepting her mother. Their 'romance’, as I would call it, enables a conversation to be had about falling back in love with your family. Ly-Cuong grasps the ebbs and flows of such a futile relationship and emphasises through food, language and culture that love is the underlying current of it all. We close this film with Ma asking Yvonne “go and sing for me.” These five simple words brought me to tears as they present Ma’s acceptance of Yvonne, her talent and her dreams. It’s a beautiful scene that happens in The Nguyen Kitchen, the centre of hope, love and most of all: acceptance.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed Stéphane Ly-Cuong’s first film. It had me wrapped up in his cosy world and deeply invested in Yvonne’s journey. I laughed, cried (a lot), and smiled throughout, showing Ly Cuong’s incredible ability to manipulate an audience’s emotions through care and effort. It also speaks to his actors, Clotilde Chevalier and Anh Tran-Nghia, who were incredible in their roles. It seemed as though they became their characters and really delved deep into their psyche, making it feel so raw and real. At times, I felt I was invading their privacy, which I think speaks to Ly-Cuong's choice of setting. The Nguyen kitchen became the heart of the story, cultivating a strong connection to home and belonging which I believe, as Ly-Cuong himself reflects, is the crux of the film!

Edited by Lara Walsh, Co-Film & TV Editor