Traditionally, Peking Opera performance techniques are passed on through succeeding generations of the families of its master exponents, ensuring that excellent performance techniques carry on. It was in the 1790s that this quintessence of Chinese culture emerged in Beijing to be enjoyed on all social levels, from the imperial palace to rickshaw drivers to farmers. Several hundred troupes and countless theaters were established throughout the country, and at its peak, Peking Opera comprised 15 major schools named after its most famous exponents. They included the Tan (Tan Fuying), Mei (Mei Lanfang), Ma (Ma Lianliang), Xun (Xun Huisheng), and Qiu (Qiu Shengrong) schools.
Peking Opera leaves young people cold
Two hundred years later, however, this traditional artistic form is losing prominence. Its schools are in decline, as over the past 30 years no new masters have emerged. The government has gone to great lengths to preserve Peking Opera and encourage its development, but its centuries-old plots that bear no relevance to modern society are of little interest to today's youth. As a worker at the Liyuan Theater says, "Young people are willing to pay several hundred, or in some cases over one thousand yuan for tickets to a pop concert, rather than less than a hundred to see a Peking Opera performance, despite the latter's cultural legacy."
Says another insider, "Television has arrested the development of Peking Opera. People like to watch performances without the bother of going out, despite TV broadcasts failing to capture the full magnificence of a live stage performance."
Another contributing factor to Peking Opera's lackluster state is its inability to engage a large consumer group, unlike film, television, or pop music. In this respect it is little more these days than a local must-see for international travelers.
Also to be taken into consideration are its long and punishing training and low salary. Says Qiu Yun, daughter of the Qiu School founder Qiu Shengrong, "Shortly after the founding of the People's Republic of China in 1949, my father's monthly pay was 500 yuan, -- higher than the President's. It was more than enough to support eight family members plus a housekeeper. Nowadays, a national Grade One Peking Opera actor's monthly pay is barely enough to support a three-member family. This is why I am reluctant to make Peking Opera my career."
Consequently, nowadays an increasing number of Peking Opera actors pass their skills on to their apprentices rather than offspring.
The pressures of inherited talent
Descendents of Peking Opera masters are expected to carry on the family craft, but as it is currently in decline this is a particularly onerous task.
The Mei School's current master is 70-year-old Mei Baojiu. Sole great-grandson of Mei Lanfang, 21-year-old Peking University student Mei Wei, must now take stock of the role Peking Opera will play in his future. He attended a three-year amateur Peking Opera school course, where at first no one noticed him. Then, at a commemorative performance the accompanist left out several segments by mistake, but young Mei Wei effortlessly covered for him, and no-one noticed the oversight. From then on, expectations of him were high.
Mei Wei's voice is said to be an echo of his great-grandfather's, and on stage his every expression and movement are reminiscent of Dr Mei. He obviously has all the qualities of a new Mei School master, but is unwilling to make Peking Opera a lifelong career. He explains, "Peking Opera is only one of my pastimes. It is not a pursuit to which I want to dedicate my life, and my family has not pressured me to do so."
Female roles in Peking Opera are usually played by male actors, the best of whom, most notably Dr. Mei Lanfang, capture perfectly the feminine voice, posture and style of movement. Nowadays, male Peking opera actors specializing in female roles may be sneered at, or have aspersions cast on their sexuality. This is why Mei Wei's mother does not wish him to dedicate his life to Peking Opera, being content that he is well educated, learns Peking Opera in his spare time, and contributes to the Mei School research in the future."
Mei Wei's current passion is pop music, and he plays drums in a rock band called Crisscross Luster. He spends relatively little time on Peking Opera training, confining himself to exercising his voice, listening to his grandfather's phonographs, and sometimes attending commemorative performances.
Peking Opera master Qiu Shengrong's daughter Qiu Yun is slight of figure and has had no basic training, so cannot play the male roles her father created on stage. Instead she has chosen to perform opera arias (without makeup or costume). She explains, "Apart from our voices, there is little similarity between my father's performances and mine. I would not want to appear on stage for fear of discrediting him."
Qiu Yun initially knew little of the Qiu School, and it was after her father and brother died that she acknowledged her heavy burden of responsibility. She reconstructed from memory her father's method of teaching his apprentices, and learned his articulation and enunciation from listening to his phonographs. On being invited to perform, she gives her all. Her two gold medals awarded by the International Peking Opera Amateur Performers Contest have won for Qiu Yun a place in amateur Peking Opera circles. She tells her nephew, "If you do not learn Peking Opera, you will let down our ancestors and others that have high expectations of you," but at the same time feels sorry for the young boy. "Learning Peking Opera means withstanding cruelty, but there is no other way of passing this traditional art on through the family line."
Standing together on stage
After ten years' regular professional training, the seventh-generation Tan School exponent Tan Zhengyan had the chance to co-perform with his father and grandfather. Tan is 23 years old and nearly 1.9 meters tall, an unusual feature in Peking Opera circles. Says a veteran performer, "It is difficult to find a female partner for him, and his voice is also a little shrill for a laosheng (one of the main male roles in traditional opera, a man of maturity, integrity and always bearded). Tan is unfazed by this, saying, "These are shortcoming but, from a different angle, they distinguish me from others." Having undergone thorough training in basic skills, he has made some modifications to his performance of which his grandfather approves.
Some innovations, however, have dumbfounded the older generation. At the end of 2002 Tan gave two Peking Opera performances to the accompaniment of a top Japanese jazz band. He admitted, "I doubted the feasibility of combining these two totally different performance arts at first, but the moment I stood on the stage, I got into character. I felt more like I was dancing than singing Peking Opera, and for the first time truly appreciated the poignancy of Peking Opera." These performances, one in the traditional Dong Yuan Theater, the other in the avant-garde Loft bar, were both warmly received. Tan's parents were satisfied with the performances, but his grandfather reserved comment.
Handsome Tan Zhengyan wants to enter film and TV circles. He plans to become a movie star and use his fame and influence to bring Peking Opera to younger fans. He has many other new ideas, but all must first meet with his grandfather's approval.
(China Today, February 11, 2004)
