Kenneth Pai believes that the highly developed esthetics of kunqu allow it to transcend cultural and age barriers and the sell-out audiences for his new production of the Peony Pavilion, suggest that he has
succeeded.
Pai, while only an occasional resident of Taiwan, encapsulated the feelings of a generation in Taipei People (台北人, 1971), a collection of short stories that are equal to the best works of Eileen Chang (張愛玲) for their insight into the sorrow and insecurity of ordinary people living in times of great upheaval. The collection includes a story called, Wandering in the Garden, Waking from a Dream, the title of which is taken from two major scenes of the kunqu opera The Peony Pavilion.
The story of how Pai became enamored of kunqu is well documented on the many Web sites dedicated to him. As a child of 10 or so in Shanghai, he gets taken to a show and cannot forget the beauty of an operatic form famous for its sophisticated combination of lyrics and movement.
``If I wanted to give a simple definition of kunqu, I would say it is the use of music and dance to bring the lyrical tradition of Chinese literature, the grand tradition of Song dynasty lyrics and Tang dynasty poems to the stage. It is to give this [literary] tradition a concrete expression, interpreting it though dance and music,'' Pai said.
Unlike Peking Opera, which has an established martial arts and acrobatic tradition, kunqu's focus is much narrower but also explores its topic much more deeply. Hence a 20-hour opera that explores all the permutations of love, both in its physical and spiritual manifestations. Pai admits that this naturally places demands both on the performers and the audience.
``Kunqu is a much more demanding art form [than Peking Opera.] It is also more pure. It is demanding and exacting, more like a ballet. We have a saying in kunqu: `Every word we sing there is a dance movement to go with it.'''
In kunqu, the moment you start singing, you must also have the necessary dance movements, said Pai about the density of kunqu performances over more theatrically-based regional operas.
``It is much more subtle and elegant. More, shall I say, elitist. It is much more a product of a high culture. So it appeals to the literati, there class, more than anything else,'' Pai said, but at the same time underlines the claims of a universal aesthetic. ``The esthetics of kunqu have achieved such an altitude that I think it has become universal.''
For Pai, The Peony Pavilion forms part of the great Chinese romantic tradition, which has always been vaguely seditious. Standing between The Western Chamber and Dream of the Red Chamber, The Peony Pavilion upholds the anti-Confucian ideals of love conquering all and life being more than just serving the state.
In bringing The Peony Pavilion to the stage in an unashamedly youthful edition, Pai is also trying to break stereotypes about Chinese opera being staid and heavily moralistic. As a writer who has always looked into the hearts and minds of ordinary people, Pai perceives that an art form that had its inception over 500 years ago still has the power to move an audience who can only with difficulty turn off their mobile phones.
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