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SHOWBIZ> Theater & Arts
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Forever ambiguous
By Raymond Zhou (China Daily)
Updated: 2008-12-05 07:54 In the film, Mei Lanfang does not hesitate much when throwing down the gauntlet - or taking it up - in front of an old master. He does not suffer from qualms of guilt when flirting with the Zhang Ziyi character while his wife watches from the balcony. He seems convinced that giving up the stage is the only right choice in Japanese-occupied Shanghai. The character does not change or show moral anguish. Rather, the burden of deliberation is shifted to those around him - his rival, his wife and the Japanese soldier caught between a rock and a hard place. Most of all, his mentor, who forsakes his own career to guide him, is constantly fighting for something. It reminds me of Mozart in the biopic Amadeus. While much more colorful, the title character remains blissfully ignorant of his rival's evil intentions. That's why the real star of the movie is the rival, who has plenty of screen time to vent his emotions. Likewise, Mei Lanfang's mentor is much better delineated. In Farewell, My Concubine, the main character briefly has a rich patron, and they are suggested to be sexually entangled. Early in the new movie, Mei Lanfang is led to a room where two young men are sitting on the laps of patrons. When Mei is asked to do the same, he slaps the person in the face. Later, when he forms a friendship with his mentor, the latter yells "We're clean!" to his own family members, who watch in horror. Opera singers in drag used to be commonplace when women were not allowed on stage. It was similar to the Shakespearean theater when teenage boys played female roles. But there is something beyond the necessity, or even the latent homosexuality and transvestitism, for male actors to impersonate female roles, called male dan in Chinese, and less frequently, vice versa. Cast aside your prejudices and dogmatic beliefs, and you'll see that there is an aesthetic reason to the phenomenon.
With gender equality, women have a chance to play these roles and arguably with more natural grace and credibility. But the rare appearance of a really good male dan (equivalent perhaps to "male soprano"?) set pulses racing regardless of gender, age or sexual orientation. Many have told me that there is a beauty to a man being more feminine on stage than a woman. A beautiful woman playing a beautiful woman is basically like Whitney Houston starring in the movie The Bodyguard. Nothing to write home about. But with a man, it's like a magic show. You know it's not real, but you're fooled into believing it nonetheless. Some cite technical reasons, such as men being more forceful in certain dance moves. But I don't believe that explains the appeal of male dan. I think people do not want to admit it, or even ponder on it, because it is politically incorrect. The allure of a male dan lies in its sexual ambiguity. Why do men have their singing voices soar into the falsetto range? If you simply want to hear a high C sung beautifully, you can have a mezzo-soprano, but that would deprive you of the guilty pleasure of momentary confusion of the gender of the person with this voice. It could belong to a castrato, or Pavarotti, or Michael Jackson, or Vitas the Russian pop star. Art can imitate nature; it can also defy nature. Many artists infuse naturalness with unnaturalness. Mei Lanfang's artistry includes minute details of feminine movements, yet everything else is utterly stylized. Peking Opera on the whole has elaborate costumes but minimal sets. It's not a realistic art. Rather, it works on the imagination. Great arts are mostly an acquired taste.
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