A couple of years ago Taiwan novelist and kun opera enthusiast Kenneth Pai (白先勇) brought a highly acclaimed version of Peony Pavilion (牡丹亭) to the stage of the National Theater (國家戲劇院). His version of the classical Chinese love story written by Ming Dynasty master playwright Tang Hsien-tsu (湯顯祖) generated renewed interest in this iconic work, and sparked a number of modern renditions.
Among these is You Yuan by Hong Kong award-winning theater actress and director Olivia Yan (甄詠蓓) of Theatre Ensemble, who puts a female take on this love story at the National Experimental Theater (國家實驗劇場) starting next Thursday.
But if you go to the theater expecting to relive the heart-stirring story of the beautiful daughter of an aristocratic family, Du Li-niang (杜麗娘), dying of lovesickness and being brought back to life by the love of the young scholar Liu Meng-mei (柳夢梅), you will be disappointed. Instead, you will find yourself lost in a modern garden where Yan's solo performance leads the audience through a fragmented poetry of imagery, sound, rhythm, and gesture.
Rather than an adaptation of the Peony Pavilion, You Yuan (遊園) serves as an extension of and a dialogue with the classical work. As Yan pointed out, she is greatly taken by the character of Du and wishes to instill a female sensitivity and point of view into the work by the male author.
To Yan, every woman is Du Li-niang, who sees love as the most important element in life. The characters she plays on stage are the incarnations of women's repressed desires and emotions. "In You Yuan, you can't find Du or any chapter of the original story. But to me, the soul of Du permeates the work," Yan said. "In different eras, people may have different values and idea, but the mental restriction on women remains the same. Women have been and will always live on love and die for love."
In the play, a modern-day female gardener drifts around a mystical space like a ghost as seasons come and go. Like all the shadowy women behind her, she falls in and out of dreams in which the repressed longings and memories turn into monstrous shades that haunt the mind. She crawls in and out of a cave, talking about trees and flowers, insects, birds and fish in swamps and woods.
A woman is born, grows up, gives birth and dies. A woman looks at herself in a mirror, puts on makeup, sprays perfume, smears it all off and does it again and again. Still another woman puts on a pair of high heels, laughing, crying, snoring and chewing the sofa. Through the presentation of different women, the solo performer focuses on the subtle intensity that derives from seemingly trivial yet refined movements and gestures, illuminating the incessant flow of thoughts and emotions. The narrative definitely takes a back seat.
Yan's feminine reveries are neatly woven into her contemplations on life and death, nature and modernization. "To me, the relation between life, death and nature is the essence of Peony Pavilion? . I am not trying to revive the traditional art form, and I don't think I am capable of doing so. I just look into my own cultural tradition and personal background and experiences and search for my own way of expression," Yan said.
To Yan, a great actor should be a total actor, that is, be able to perform without props or sets and still take the audience beyond the confining frame of the stage and into the unlimited realm of the imagination. And that is what she tries to achieve in her theatrical creations.
Coming from a Liyuan opera (梨園劇) family, Yan has familiarized herself with traditional opera forms and went to Europe to study with theater masters such as Monika Pagneux, one of Europe's foremost teachers of movement for the theater. Her works are the expressive synthesis of Western modern theater and Chinese opera, and to her mind, the performers of the traditional performing art can best illustrate the concept and practice of a total actor.
When asked about the challenges a solo performer has to face and overcome, Yan said: "In a solo performance, all the focus, creation, story, expression and imagination is on you. You are all alone. You have to fight against yourself, understand your own limits, but at the same time keep on pushing and expanding. It requires lots of courage and wisdom, but great satisfaction will come."
A scriptwriter, director, actress and teacher, the versatile female artist co-founded the Theatre Ensemble with her husband in 1993. Over the years, the troupe has built up a repertoire of more than 30 pieces.
As Yan explains, "In physical theater,
language is not the dominant expressive element but bodies, and the textures, gestures, and movements of the bodies. All our creations start from the rehearsal room without a fixed script."
In You Yuan, the audience will not only find the stylistic physical theater that pleases the senses, but a sincere and honest attempt from an artist to speak of the concreteness of life and the human condition.
FOR YOUR INFORMATIOIN
● What: You Yuan (遊園) by Theatre Ensemble
● Where: National Experimental Theater (國家實驗劇場) 21-1, Zhongshan S Rd, Taipei (台北市中山南路21-1號)
● When: April 20 and 21 at 7:30pm
April 22 at 2:30pm and 7:30pm
April 23 at 2:30pm
● Tickets: NT$500, available through NTCH ticket outlets or at www.artsticket.com.tw
Taiwan’s English education system is being pulled apart by three opposing forces. Bilingual Nation 2030 pulls students toward English and global communication. Artificial Intelligence (AI) readiness pulls them toward digital judgment, verification and AI-mediated work. But Taiwan’s old exam culture pulls them back toward memorization, grammar drills, timed reading and correct answers. If the education system keeps using old exams to define success, it risks producing graduates who are neither genuinely bilingual nor genuinely AI-ready, but trained for tasks machines can already perform. The first force is Bilingual Nation 2030. Launched in 2018, the policy aimed to “help Taiwan’s workforce connect
It seems every few days one bumps into one of those “real man” comments in which Taiwan is urged to “face reality” or similar, and “make a deal,” with the speaker implying that soon it will be too late. “Deal” advocates always present themselves as having a superior grip on reality, and the manly ability to make the “hard choice.” Their testosterone-laden language often echoes that of Taiwan sellout advocates. Note that such commentary always specifies a process (“make a deal, work with, make progress”), never the end state of what occupation by a violent authoritarian colonialist state will entail. In
There are shadowy cabals plotting to sell out Taiwan to be annexed by China, by invasion if necessary. Fortunately, they are buffoons. In 2019, former Bamboo Union gangster and founder of the China Unification Promotion Party (CUPP), Chang An-le (張安樂, colorfully known as “White Wolf”), led a protest at the Legislative Yuan against comments made by then-premier Su Tseng-chang (蘇貞昌) that in the event of an attack by China, he would never surrender, but would protect the nation by fighting to the end, even if he only had a broom. Chang had party members bring a wooden casket that they
June 1 to June 7 "If all Taiwanese were as afraid of dying as you, then what would happen?” Physician Shih Chiang-nan (施江南) reportedly said this to his wife Chen Chiao-tung (陳焦桐) after she urged him to stop intervening on behalf of Taiwanese soldiers stranded overseas after serving in the Japanese Army during World War II. Shih had clashed with high-ranking officials over the issue, engaged in several heated arguments with Taiwan governor-general Chen Yi (陳儀) and allegedly shouted at general Ko Yuan-fen (柯遠芬), chief of staff of the Taiwan Garrison Command, over