Peking Opera Lives on—in the Movies, that is:

Peking Opera may be slowly dying on the live stage, but it does briefly flicker back to life every now and then on the silver screen (my apologies for the lame pun!). In particular, the art form holds a special fascination for one of China's most important and internationally well-known film directors, Chen Kaige (陈凯歌).

Indeed, it was Chen's 1993 movie about Peking Opera, “Farewell My Concubine” (霸王别姬), which made the director famous in the West. This epic film (史诗电影; shi3shi1dian4ying3; 史诗 means “epic”) charts the careers of two Peking Opera male stars from the early and tumultuous days of Republican China up through the chaotic upheaval of the Cultural Revolution. The film won the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival and it, along with the early work of Zhang Yimou (张艺谋), put Chinese cinema in the international spotlight.

In his latest film, whose English title is “Forever Enthralled”, Chen returns to the subject of Peking Opera. Since this film is about the famous Peking Opera star, Mei Lanfang (梅兰芳), its Chinese title is “Mei Lanfang”. Li Ming (黎明) stars as Mei Lanfang, while Zhang Ziyi (章子怡), who is much better known outside of China, plays opposite him as film's leading actress (see the photos at the top of this post).

The real life Mei Lanfang specialized in so-called “nandan” (男旦) Peking Opera roles. As the photo of Mei below indicates, these men took on young female roles—“男旦” literally means “man-woman” in this context. Normal acting is difficult enough, but I'm sure it's a walk in the park compared to doing this kind of cross-gender performance. As one can imagine, being a “男旦” required a special kind of technical artistry and skill.

The Dowager Empress Cixi (慈禧) was especially enamoured of these female impersonators. Peking Opera flourished during her long reign, which lasted from the late 19th Century through the first years of the 20th Century. During this period, the opera troupes naturally sought to put on lots of plays featuring legendary and patriotic heroines.

One such opera was “Hua Mulan (花木兰) Joins the Army.” This opera was based on a very well-known story from traditional Chinese culture. Hua was a famous heroine who disguised herself as a man and became a soldier, taking the place of her father in the army. She then proceeded to achieve great feats in war. You could call her a Chinese Joan of Arc, but unlike the French maiden, she tried to hide her feminne identity.

Mei Lanfang specialized in other types of roles. In fact, he is perhaps best known for his moving portrayel of the “Beauty Yu” in the Peking Opera “Farewell My Concubine” (see the illustration below). And, yes, this is the same “Farewell my Concubine” Opera that serves as the focal point of Chen Kaige's earlier film about the art form. Mei was especially known for his smoothness, poise, and perfect timing. His style was so highly regarded that it became referred as the “Mei School” in Peking Opera circles.

The general Chinese public retained a keen interest in the “男旦” performers up through the 1930s, even after the emergence of China's film industry, which was centered in Shanghai, created lots of glamorous female movie stars. Indeed, during this decade, the readers of a popular magazine were polled as to who were China's top “男旦” opera singers. Mei Lanfang was one of the four winners. Mei and the other three top vote getters did a famous group photograph in which they all wore dark business suits.

In addition to achieving fame within China, Mei was the first Peking Opera star to achieve international recognition. He toured the world during the 1930s. During his visit to the United States, Mei became good friends with Charlies Chaplin. He was also welcomed in Hollywood (好莱坞) by Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, who managed to get him cast in several small film roles.

Mei was lionized not only in the capitalist west, but in the Soviet Union as well, where he received a bust of Lenin (列宁) after performing in Moscow. There he won the admiration of both Sergie Eisenstein and Bertolt Brecht.

In fact, in his new history of Beijing, CITY OF HEAVENLY TRANQUITY, Jasper Becker argues that seeing Mei inspired Bertolt Brecht to develop his “verfremendungseffekt”, or “alienation effect”, theory of drama. In doing this, Becker claims that Brecht “completely misunderstood the art form (Peking Opera). He thought that the heavily stylized stagecraft, the patently unrealistic gestures that actors used to signal things like riding a horse or walking, was a deliberate effort to destroy any sense of illusion or escapism.”

The inversion of gender roles in Peking Opera was not limited to men playing younger women. In this topsy-turvy world, especially talented young female performers took on roles as older men. Since such characters were always older men, these ladies were called Laosheng (老生), or “old man”. Zhang Ziyi’s character in “Forever Enthralled” is a “老生”.

When Chen began thinking about this film project many years ago, he wanted the Hong Kong actor, Zhang Guorong (张国荣), better known in the West as Leslie Chueng, to play the role of Mei Lanfang. In my previous blog post, I noted that Zhang was the male lead in Wang Kar Wai's early breakthrough film, “Days of Being Wild”. However, in April of 2003, this great actor committed suicide (自杀) by leaping out of the window of a luxury hotel in Hong Kong. The photo below is a group shot with Chen, who is in the center of the picture, and the cast of “Mei Lanfang” (Zhang Ziyi is off to his side).

Chen had wanted to cast Zhang in his new film because he had starred as one of the two male opera performers in “Farewell my Concubine”. Unlike his partner, who marries the film's female lead actress (住女角), Gong Li (巩俐), this performer is not attracted to women. In fact, there is more than subtle hint of homoeroticism in the relationship between this pair. And Zhang Guorong was himself a homosexual (同性恋者); however, from what I've read and my Chinese friends have told me, being gay had nothing to do with his suicide.

One of the most powerful scenes in “Farewell my Concubine” comes toward the end of the movie, during the Cultural Revolution (文化大革命). The two opera performers are subjected to a “struggle session” (被批斗). In order to curry favor (拍马屁) with the Red Guards (红卫兵), the singer who is married denounces his wife, calling her a whore (破鞋)—they had first met at the high class brothel (妓院) where she worked as a prostitute—and saying that he had never loved her. His wife is naturally devastated by these statements. Thus when he returns home from the struggle session, he finds that she has hanged herself from the ceiling of their Siheyuan house.

Chen's frank depiction of the Cultural Revolution's excesses is more than just little autobiographical. Chen himself became a Red Guard during this period at the age of 14. He denounced the work of his father, who was then a prominent film director, as “subversive” (颠覆) (Chen's mother was a well-known film and TV actress). Chen has said that while his father has long since forgiven him for that behavior, he still deeply regrets what he did.

Fortunately, everyone in China, from the leaders down the ordinary people, all agree that the Cultural Revolution was a huge mistake. Something like it is thus very unlikely to ever happen here again.

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

霸王别姬 (ba4wang3bie2ji1).
史诗电影 (shi3shi1dian4ying3). “史诗电影” is the Chnese word for “epic”.
慈禧 (Ci2xi3).
好莱坞 (hao3lai2wu4).
列宁 (lie4ning2).
自杀 (zi4sha1). “自” is a shortened form of the word “oneself”, “自己” (zi4ji3), while “杀” is the verb “murdered”.
住女角 (zhu4nü3jue2).
同性恋者 (tong2xing4lian4zhe3). The Chinese word for “lesbian” is “拉拉” (la1la1). These two characters are also the verb for “pull” or “drag along”. According to a Chinese friend, “拉拉” is used mainly by young people, and no standard term exists yet in Mandarin for “lesbian”. An older way of saying it is “女是个女同性恋” (nü3shi4ge4nü3tong2xing4lian4), which also means “female comrad”.
文化大革命 (wen2hua4da4ge2ming4). “文化” means “cultural”, “大” “great”, and “革命” “revolution”.
被批斗 (bei4pi1dou4).
拍马屁 (pai4ma3pi4). This literally means “petting (拍) the horse's (马) rear (屁)”. It can be translated into English not just as “curry favor”, but “kissing butt” and “licking someone else's boots” as well. “屁” on its own can mean “fart” and “rubbish”.

红卫兵 (hong2wei4bing1). “红” is the word for “red”, while “卫兵” is “guard”.
破鞋 (po4xie2). For some reason, the Chinese literally refer to such a woman as a “broken (破) shoe (鞋)”. Rather like the English slang phrase “damaged goods”, I suppose.
妓院 (ji4yuan2). This is a much more descriptive term than its English equivalent, as it literally means “place (院) of prostitutes (妓)”.
颠覆 (dian1fu4).