Chinese opera seeks a future Tapei, Taiwan – Kuo Shiao-Chuan is the picture of grace as she bends, stretches, pivots and talks of survival. Not her own survival, but that of one of the world’s oldest art forms, Chinese opera, begun more than 1,000 years ago. “Unless we can breathe new life into the classic arts, they face the real possibility of extinction,” she points out as she methodically strengthens her leg muscles in the pre-rehearsal warm-up. She is dressed in a pink shirt and black slacks gathered into a cuff, and wears a diamond horseshoe lucky piece on a chain around her neck. Members of the orchestra are also tuning up for the practice session in her studio in the basement of her brother’s home in center-city Taipei. As one of Chinese opera’s most important stars (a major celebrity in Taiwan for more than 15 years), her influence in the arts is extensive. She is determined to use that influence to make a change. In doing so, she is walking a creative tightrope between the old and the new – simultaneously being the innovator and the preservationist. Earlier over luncheon, Kuo – looking wonderfully chic in her well-cut aqua and yellow printed voile suit – had explained how a stay at The Juilliard School in New York City brought to flower a seed that had been planted by her Chinese mentor, Gan Yu. “In a departure from the usual training, he had insisted that I learn not only opera but dance, painting, art, poetry and movies to experience all kinds of artistic endeavor that would provide me a wealth of background from which to draw for a variety of roles. “At Juilliard they approach the arts in the same way – setting about to teach one to use his own knowledge and strength as a springboard from which to create and echoing, for me, the early teachings of Gan Yu. “Although classic Chinese opera is considered by many of the old guard now to be the perfect art form, it has evolved into what it is today through many years of change … . “And it must not be frozen now, left an untouchable antique to be put in a museum. Our industrial society is always progressing. So must opera if it is to retain its immediacy for contemporary audiences … . “But you must come to my studio and see for yourself …” was her parting invitation as she rushed to an appearance. That was how we happened to watch a private film showing of one of her recent performances over a cup of tea in the attractive living room at her brother’s home and to see the beginnings of a new opera in the basement studio. “Chinese theater was first performed in the fields on tiny, temporary stages, set up in front of the small temples,” she explained. “Members of the agrarian community would come and go casually during the performance, so there was much repetition in the scripts which … were quite long.” Acting and dancing were very important to convey action, and musicians consequently were contained in very small spaces on the stage. For the August production by her Ya-yin Ensemble, the orchestra has been moved from the stage to the pit, as in Western opera, and some Western instruments are being added to the traditional, age-old Chinese instruments. “Why in the age of electricity would one not now use lighting to create atmosphere? And in winter scenes, why should not falling snow be seen?” Changing times for women have changed scripts, too. “In traditional opera,” Kuo said, “Ladies were beautiful but understated, always weak and yielding, but in the industrial society that kind of woman has left the home and gone to work. Now women are strong. It has carried over to Chinese opera today, where we are using a larger stage and (for them) a larger stage in life.” For instance, in the Ya-yin’s production now touring Taiwan, the traditional relationship between wife and mother-in-law, and the virtues of tolerance and obedience, are being explored. That’s very daring for Chinese opera. In her studio that day were three bright, beautiful Chinese children, aged 2 to 5, being fitted for costumes. This use of children is a first in Chinese opera. Kuo wasn’t much older, though, when she first entered the opera academy. She was 8 and remembers well her entrance into the Republic of China’s Ta-p’eng Air Force Opera School at the prompting of her father, an opera lover. “I had no ambitions to be in opera … no knowledge actually of what it was all about. I was just a schoolgirl who often got her palms slapped for not doing her homework and who jumped at a chance to get away from studying and writing compositions.” The students were up at 5 a.m. and off to class, where they spent a half hour mouthing “eee,” “ooo” and “uuu” to make strong, clear voices. Then came the morning calisthenics – a long series of demanding exercises to warm up feet and legs. The teacher “scolded or slapped if attention wavered or execution was imperfect.” Exercises ended at 9 a.m., breakfast time. “After that, the older children went off to classes and the beginners, like I, continued with basic training. At 2 p.m. we began practicing a series of exercises designed to strengthen the thighs … no matter how hot the summer sun or how cold the winter wind.” After her first year, she studied singing and stage movements. Once, to prepare for a role requiring stamina, she performed footwork exercises with bricks strapped to her feet. “At first, it was 10 minutes. Then, it was lengthened to an hour,” she remembered. Any mistakes would bring on blows from the instructor. Once that was over, I had to run 20 laps around the sports field in the hot sun.” Then, after two years and after the first study of opera itself had begun, the role Kuo wanted was denied her. “I was not deemed good enough to play it and I was terribly depressed, so father engaged private coaching for me. During the other girls’ noonday naps, I took instruction, often practicing for the role of a young female warrior, which required knowledge of the martial arts. “While they slept, I did these exercises and ran the laps under the hot, noonday sun, wearing the full costume of the role with its heavy war-banners on my back. I developed a strong will to overcome my hardships and make a success of the role.” Two years of hard work paid off. She performed with perfection the intricate and demanding role, “much to the amazement of my teachers and classmates.” Now after 20 years as a performer, she is like a sculptor, carving a new image in the operatic world. She is using the sharp edge of her inventive mind and the honed skills of a seasoned performer to create a new image, which is blending time-honored material with contemporary additives. “And it is working,” she said happily. “Young people are beginning to crowd the theater again.” |
