Stage Review - The Heart Sellers (Seattle Rep)

Stage Review - The Heart Sellers
Presented By: Seattle Rep - Seattle, WA
Show Run: January 02 - February 01, 2026
Date Reviewed: Thursday, January 07, 2026 (Opening Night)
Run Time: 90 Minutes (no intermission)
Reviewed By: Greg Heilman

When one thinks of impactful period pieces, the 1970s rarely comes to mind. But with The Heart Sellers, a snapshot of life on one Thanksgiving evening in 1973, that assumption is quietly dismantled. The chance meeting of two doctors’ wives — one from Korea and one from the Philippines — becomes a lens through which we can see not only how much has changed in our society and our politics over the past fifty years, but also how much has remained stubbornly, sometimes uncomfortably, the same.

In a time when isolation feels like the default and suspicion of others has become ingrained, the idea that two women might meet in a grocery store and decide to spend the evening together — bonding over their pasts, their husbands, and the lives they now find themselves living — feels almost unfathomable. And yet, that is exactly what happens here. The Heart Sellers explores the difficulties of adjusting to life in a new country, the nuances of cultural difference, and the loneliness inherent in a world where men hold the power and women often feel like spectators in their own lives. It is a deeply human piece that examines immigration from a perspective we don’t often see — not just what is gained by coming to a new land, but what must be surrendered in order to belong.

First produced in 2023 after being commissioned by Milwaukee Repertory Theater, The Heart Sellers is written by Lloyd Suh and set over the course of a single Thanksgiving evening in 1973. The play follows Jane and Luna, two recent immigrants who meet by chance in a grocery store and decide to spend the holiday together while their doctor husbands are working, a simple premise that allows deeper conversations about identity, marriage, and belonging to emerge organically. Directed here with warmth and restraint by Sunam Ellis, the production is on stage at Seattle Repertory Theatre through February 1.

When you see as many shows as I do, you start to recognize an artist’s work before you ever open the program. That’s certainly the case with scenic designer Parmida Ziaei. Her work permeates the entire production — not just the set itself, but the way costumes, lighting, and sound feel like extensions of a unified visual and emotional language. She has a rare ability to understand a director’s vision and translate it into a physical space that feels both intentional and deeply lived in.

Here, she realizes Sunam’s vision of an apartment that feels as though it has been lifted directly from 1973 and placed onto the stage. The apartment floor sits above the stage itself, supported by a visible foundation, giving the impression that the set has simply been slid into place. It’s part of what Parmida does so well — the feeling that a wall or ceiling has been pulled back, allowing the audience to peer almost voyeuristically into the private lives of the characters. From the darker, era-specific color palette of the kitchen and living space to the crocheted afghan draped across the furniture — the kind that instantly recalls my own childhood home — every detail feels authentic.

That authenticity extends beyond what we see and into what we hear. Sound designer Melanie Chen Cole subtly incorporates the outside world — cars passing, a dog barking in the distance — reminding us that life continues beyond the apartment walls. Inside, the sounds are just as important: vegetables being chopped, water running, dishes being cleaned. Food becomes the connective tissue between Jane and Luna, grounding their relationship in shared action and ritual. Lighting designer L.B. Morse gently guides time and mood without ever calling attention to the work itself, while costume designer Ty Pyne uses color, texture, and silhouette to define character as clearly as the dialogue does.

Those costumes tell us a great deal about who these women are. Luna, played with warmth and emotional openness by Becca Q. Co, wears purple corduroy pants and a matching vest paired with a multicolored turtleneck — a palette that reflects her expressive nature and her hunger for connection. Jane, portrayed with an initial quiet shyness by Seoyoung Park, appears in darker skirts and softer, more formal tones, visually reinforcing her reserved demeanor. The contrast underscores the cultural differences between the two women: Luna outwardly expressive, Jane more guarded, at least at first.

As wine is poured and the evening progresses, both women begin to loosen — Jane especially — and what starts as polite conversation gradually deepens into something more honest. They bond over their husbands, over food, and over the shared exhaustion of being defined by someone else’s career and expectations. A conversation about men in power and the idea of compensation grows organically, lines added as the women feel safer speaking their truths. The more wine they drink, the more the walls come down, and the more clearly their shared yearning for something more comes into focus.

One of the play’s most powerful moments arrives in Luna’s monologue, delivered with aching clarity by Becca, as she speaks about losing her heart. Rooted in the reality of the Hart–Celler Act of 1965, which allowed her immigration to the United States, the monologue references a recurring dream in which immigrants are asked to hand over their physical hearts at customs. It’s a surreal but deeply resonant image, capturing the emotional truth of what Luna feels she has surrendered — her closeness to family, her sense of home, and parts of herself she may never fully recover. Becca presents the moment beautifully, allowing metaphor and emotion to coexist without ever tipping into abstraction.

That moment is matched by Seoyoung’s quietly devastating monologue about feeling like a spectator in her own life — watching decisions being made for her, her future shaped by forces beyond her control. It’s a moment of recognition that deepens the bond between the two women, as Jane gives voice to a feeling Luna instantly understands. In sharing these truths, they find not just companionship, but solidarity, bonding more deeply as the evening — and the wine — progresses, united by a shared aspiration for lives that feel fuller, richer, and more their own.

The dialect work, coached by Joy Lanceta Coronel, deserves special recognition. Both actors employ accents with differing levels of thickness, each accurate to their cultural backgrounds and sustained consistently across the full emotional range of the play. The dialects never feel performative; instead, they are integral to how these women move through the world and communicate with one another. It’s yet another ingredient in a recipe that makes this story feel exceedingly real.

The Heart Sellers is a play about the bravery required to be vulnerable — to open your door, your table, and your heart to someone who was a stranger only hours before. In watching Jane and Luna choose connection over isolation, honesty over politeness, and aspiration over resignation, the play gently reminds us of what becomes possible when we allow ourselves to be seen. It’s a story that feels both rooted in its time and urgently relevant today, offering a powerful reminder that progress is not just measured in laws or policy, but in moments of shared humanity, forged over food, wine, and the simple act of listening.

The Heart Sellers runs on the Leo K. Theater stage at Seattle Rep through February 1. For more information, including ticket availability and sales, visit https://www.seattlerep.org/plays/202526-season/the-heart-sellers.

Photo credit: Sayed Alamy