Bridget Kim and Angeleia Ordoñez Photo by

But over the course of 95 intermissionless minutes, these young women, one from the Philippines and the other from Korea, become much more emotionally textured characters. They are, in fact, lost souls–pulled away from their native cultures and families and transplanted to the United States, which might as well be another planet with unfamiliar products, foods, traditions, behaviors, and values.

Suh's title is a play on words. The Hart-Celler Immigration Act of 1965 opened the doors to people like Jane and Luna, long excluded from coming to America by racist quotas. Watching TV, Luna learned about this legislation, but she extrapolates a fearful, imaginary scenario implied by the names: She has come to believe that she has sold her heart by leaving her family and her homeland behind.

Jane and Luna's busy husbands are never seen. When mentioned, it's generally because their careers have left their wives unmoored and questioning whether they should have immigrated to such a foreign place. But their desperate need for friendship opens new possibilities for surviving.

We meet them on their way home from the grocery store. Luna has taken a stab at making a Thanksgiving dinner that is nothing like meals back home in the Philippines. She invites Jane to her cramped, one-room efficiency apartment. Sasha Jin Schwartz's scenic design for the Playhouse's Rosenthal Shelterhouse Theatre stage features a stained carpet, a cinder-block stand for a tiny TV, a quietly clanking steam radiator and lots of clutter. Marcella Barbeau's subtle lighting design underscores the growing warmth between the women.

Luna's purchase of a solidly frozen turkey presents an amusing challenge. However, Jane has been watching Julia Child's culinary TV show and has some inkling about what to do, despite Luna's meager supplies. It's an uphill battle that's never won, but their nascent friendship does break the ice.

Along the way they reveal more and more to each other, discovering–sometimes comically–how much they have in common. (They are astonished to learn that they each had an older sister who was a Communist.) Their cultures are not identical, but their experiences resonate. Hungrily eating yams, the only items of Thanksgiving dinner that make it out of the oven, they tearfully compare notes regarding how different these vegetables are from those they knew. Even rain in the U.S. smells differently to them than precipitation back home.

They share unfulfilled dreams that have been waylaid by coming to America. Luna reveals a beautiful singing voice. (Ordoñez's performance of a song evoked applause from the opening night audience.) Jane hoped to be an artist, perhaps a renowned painter like Monet, maybe with a work in the Louvre. Kim and Ordoñez deliver monologues of their characters' imagined futures, even if they seem unattainable. They share wonders they have experienced or hoped for–disco dancing, learning to drive and even a visit to (but not into) Disneyland.

Suh's script name-checks Richard Nixon more than once, including his famous "I am not a crook" speech. There is some hilarious banter about male genitalia, territory with which the women are barely familiar. Late in the day, they shed their plain 1970s attire for colorful muumuus or "home clothes" as Luna calls them. (Costumes are by Christine Tschirgi.)

While The Heart Sellers is anchored in a specific past a half century ago, it tells a universal story as timely today as then about the human need for friendship and personal connection. The show's tender resolution features heartfelt intention from director Desdemona Chiang. Jane and Luna warmly embrace, and a few tears are shed in the audience. This is Chiang's second time to stage the show; she also directed it for Virginia Theatre Festival over the summer, with Kim playing Jane, a role she clearly knows and renders with beautiful sensitivity and some wry humor. Ordoñez is new to her role, but her giggly, sometimes regretful behavior evolves into deeply felt emotions, adding powerfully to this production's success.

>The Heart Sellers is one of the most frequently produced plays on America's regional stages this season. Its ability to entertain and portray deeply felt human emotions is key to its success, well demonstrated by this Playhouse production.

The Heart Sellers runs through November 23, 2025, at Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park, 962, Mt. Adams Circle in Eden Park, adjacent to Mt. Adams, Cincinnati OH. For tickets and information, please visit cincyplay.com or call 513-421-3888.