A woman dressed in traditional white robes plays the guqin (ancient stringed instrument) at the side of the stage, on which one actor performs 13 roles without changing costume. The only actress, dressed in a conventional Peking Opera costume, sings in one scene and speaks in the next. And this all happens against the backdrop of an abstract image projected on a white Xuan paper.
Although The King Mourns is a fresh and complicated presentation, the entire production seems somehow strange, artificial and even laughable in some scenes.
Wang Cailing is middle-aged and plump with buck teeth and wrinkled skin. She has sparse hair and eyebrows, and wears a serious, grim expression. Yet this woman has a beautiful voice and dreams of singing at the Paris Opera some day. But in a small city in North China in the early 1980s, Wang encountered one frustration after another.
Once a year is St Patrick's Day and "everyone wants to be Irish". Wearing green is in vogue and bar owners dig up shamrocks, made-in-China leprechauns and lure punters with cheap drinks, while playing The Pogues.
Ireland has capitalized on its cultural heritage like few other countries. For a small place, it has a rich tradition of writers, painters and musicians.
Six-year-old Ma Junbo drew Fuwa, the mascots of Beijing Olympic Games, all over a wall of her home and asked kids living in Tiantongyuan community to join in. The girl's parents later painted the wall purple to cover up the drawings. Neighbors didn't think it was anything out of the ordinary, but when Jiang Yuan heard about it he was inspired to make a film.
During my last year in university, I had a tall boyfriend who was sunny and masculine. When I and other students were running about madly in search of a job, a famous joint venture discovered my boyfriend's talents.
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