The premiere of Contemporary Legend Theater’s (當代傳奇劇場) revamped production of Medea (樓蘭女) on Thursday was packed with the great and the good of the art world, eager to see, or revisit, one of Taiwan’s most successful dramatic experiments. The show starred the two original leads from the 1993 production, with Beijing opera diva Wei Hai-min (魏海敏) in the title role and Contemporary Legend’s founder Wu Hsing-kuo (吳興國) as Jason, the man who betrays her.
Both put on strong performances, though Wei was noticeably struggling with her costume — designed by Tim Yip (葉錦添) for the 1993 production and now inextricably associated with the show — in one scene. Sound reproduction was also an issue, with one instance of the microphones cutting out. The problem had not been fixed by the second night, according to a friend who saw the performance on Friday, a fact that reflects badly on what is generally regarded as Taiwan’s foremost theater.
These technical problems aside, the production was undeniably spectacular, though it may be argued that Lin Keh-hua’s (林克華) new and extravagant set muted the effect of Yip’s costumes, which might have been more expressive against a starker background — a possible case of more is less.
The balance between the recorded music and the live singing might also have been altered in favor of the former, as Wei’s voice, powerful as it is, seemed sometimes to be almost overwhelmed. Her struggle, it seemed, was not primarily against her violent passions, but against a mixing board that wasn’t giving her the breaks.
For all the above nitpicking, the revival of Medea, with its startlingly original music by Hsu Po-yun (�?�) and stylized beauty of the actors, both individually and as elements within an organically conceived performance space, shows the wealth of potential that exists within Taiwanese theater.
Technology was also a major part of a much smaller production at the Experimental Theater this weekend. The Drought Goddess (大神魃) by the Ethan Chen Production House (野墨坊) had plenty of good ideas and excellent work contributed by musicians, animators, calligraphers, painters and performers. Its multimedia presentation outshone many more expensive and high-profile productions, and the way it managed to play with aspects of traditional theater was really quite impressive.
A tap-dance nanguan (南管) aria with pipa (�? and percussion was splendid to behold, and deserved applause — unfortunately, the audience had, by that time, been so numbed by the ponderous layering of technical effects and tortuously slow story development that they proved totally unable to respond.
The use of a made-up language combining various dialects was quite interesting for some of the musical effects it created, but after an hour or so, the device began to wear a bit thin. When the performers moved into traditional nanguan singing, it was not difficult to appreciate the musical sophistication of centuries of development over something that was first developed a couple of months ago.
In many aspects of presentation, The Drought Goddess punched well above its weight, but ultimately, lacking both a comprehensible structure and a strong directorial eye to keep things in their place, this grab-bag of good ideas dragged, sagged and spread out in all the wrong places.
Dancer/choreographer Lin Wen-chung (林文中) said in a recent interview with this paper that he wanted the debut of his self-named company WCdance to show “the whole world how good I am.” He more than amply proved his point on Thursday night at the Crown Theater, where he attracted an overflow crowd that packed the bleachers and crowded the floor in front to see the premiere of Small.
The action was almost entirely contained in a 3m-by-3m space marked out by six frames of Plexiglas linked to two L-shapes to almost form a cube. A white floor and back wall, with a mirrored panel angled overhead completed the box. Within such a confined space, every move, every twitch, every slide along the floor or wall spoke as loudly as the jackhammer sounds that opened the piece. I may never look at ant farms in quite the same way again.
Lin was generous to his four dancers — Lin Xiao-yuan (林筱圓), Wu Xin-ya (吳幸亞), Chiu Yu-wen (邱鈺雯) and Lee Guo-chi (李國治) — mixing and matching pairs, trios, quartets and quintets with a solo for each.
The one word that came to mind during and after the performance was “polished.” The choreography, the score, the set and the dancing were all highly polished. Lin began rehearsing the piece early last spring and the months of work clearly paid off, a lesson that could be learned by several of the more established troupes in Taipei.
Sept.16 to Sept. 22 The “anti-communist train” with then-president Chiang Kai-shek’s (蔣介石) face plastered on the engine puffed along the “sugar railway” (糖業鐵路) in May 1955, drawing enthusiastic crowds at 103 stops covering nearly 1,200km. An estimated 1.58 million spectators were treated to propaganda films, plays and received free sugar products. By this time, the state-run Taiwan Sugar Corporation (台糖, Taisugar) had managed to connect the previously separate east-west lines established by Japanese-era sugar factories, allowing the anti-communist train to travel easily from Taichung to Pingtung’s Donggang Township (東港). Last Sunday’s feature (Taiwan in Time: The sugar express) covered the inauguration of the
The corruption cases surrounding former Taipei Mayor and Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) head Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) are just one item in the endless cycle of noise and fuss obscuring Taiwan’s deep and urgent structural and social problems. Even the case itself, as James Baron observed in an excellent piece at the Diplomat last week, is only one manifestation of the greater problem of deep-rooted corruption in land development. Last week the government announced a program to permit 25,000 foreign university students, primarily from the Philippines, Indonesia and Malaysia, to work in Taiwan after graduation for 2-4 years. That number is a
This year’s Michelin Gourmand Bib sported 16 new entries in the 126-strong Taiwan directory. The fight for the best braised pork rice and the crispiest scallion pancake painstakingly continued, but what stood out in the lineup this year? Pang Taqueria (胖塔可利亞); Taiwan’s first Michelin-recommended Mexican restaurant. Chef Charles Chen (陳治宇) is a self-confessed Americophile, earning his chef whites at a fine-dining Latin-American fusion restaurant. But what makes this Xinyi (信義) spot stand head and shoulders above Taipei’s existing Mexican offerings? The authenticity. The produce. The care. AUTHENTIC EATS In my time on the island, I have caved too many times to
In a stark demonstration of how award-winning breakthroughs can come from the most unlikely directions, researchers have won an Ig Nobel prize for discovering that mammals can breathe through their anuses. After a series of tests on mice, rats and pigs, Japanese scientists found the animals absorb oxygen delivered through the rectum, work that underpins a clinical trial to see whether the procedure can treat respiratory failure. The team is among 10 recognized in this year’s Ig Nobel awards (see below for more), the irreverent accolades given for achievements that “first make people laugh, and then make them think.” They are not