Based on The Novel by Angela S. Choi

Adapted by Gail Rastorfer and Kurt Johns

You’ve seen her before, Hello Kitty,

That adorable, often pastel-clad white kitty cat amidst the plushies, the soft toys, and the tourist tat. She’s harmless though, right?

Adapted from the hit novel by Angela S. Choi comes a dark-musical and choreography-heavy production that pins stereotypes to the walls and ensures they aren’t walking away without a limp. Chiefly that of the distressing fetishisation of Asian women: of the avenues of misogyny and racism, rarely addressed in principal mediums, and it’s all down to the bloody cartoon cat. Well, most of it anyhow.

Cute, silent, subservient, compliable, and without a claw or fang in sight, Hello Kitty’s explosive popularity has set a cultural precedent that needs a shake-up, or rather, a tear-down. Living with this overhanging image is Fiona Yu (powerfully captured by Sami Ma), a first-generation Asian American woman who fights on all sides for independence away from the stereotype. Her parents, well, her father, have one goal: marry her to a respectable Chinese man. But Fiona wants to be a lawyer, to be happy, and not stop putting on lipstick just for these tiring and hapless dates.

No matter where Fiona looks, an adversary isn’t far behind: at work, from her father, the emotionally stunted men around her, and the absurd obsession with her hymen. Even from other women surrounding her, beaten down by the existing system, unable to break free. Until she meets an old friend, however, who might just offer the ‘out’ she’s been looking for.

Lyrically, and in the score, Hello Kitty Must Die has a few stand-out numbers which leave an impact – well written and composed and slide perfectly into the tone and pacing of the show. The same cannot be said for some of the earlier numbers that push the humour (and audience) into confusing areas, certainly dividing the audience’s sense of comfort and enjoyment. 

Ironically, given the show’s violent focus and sharply dark humour, it’s the poignant moments which strike harder and feel more accomplished. Down to the quintet of performers, who often switch between roles save for our lead portraying Fiona, from misogynistic businessmen to slack-jawed boys without a clue in the world, to a rather roguish and charismatic serial killer. For any faults, the ambition of the team is tremendously encouraging, as Hello Kitty Must Die presents a world where women can do whatever they want – even murder. The performances from all on stage are solid, energetic, and vocally diverse and manage to keep on the tail of the difficult pacing. 

There’s undoubtedly a rareness to Hello Kitty’s existence among the 3,000 others at this year’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe, and certainly a following for the musical’s brutal plot and macabre score – but the production itself is still some way from being the killer hit it has the right to be. Its book requires a much-needed re-tread to solve the pacing and tonal shifts, which leaves whiplash for those unfortunate enough in attempting to unravel the story.

Written by an Asian American woman, about Asian American women, and performed by Asian American women, there is nothing really like this, and that’s kind of the point. Hello Kitty Must Die sharpens its claws on centuries of stereotypes and xenophobia, tired of the fetishisation of Asian women and the endless abuse of patriarchal trauma. With time and some re-writes, Hello Kitty Must Die will not only score with audiences but critically and financially. And it might just get that damned cat too.