|
Magazine
The trajectory of change
PALLAVI AIYAR
|
Once the highest expression of Chinese culture, the Peking Opera is a dying art today. Efforts to revive it have met with a mixed response.
|
He attributes the current decline in interest in the opera to the global phenomenon of a tension between the classical and the modern.
Photo: Pallavi Aiyar
Nuanced movement: A Peking Opera class in progress.
The four girls standing at the head of the classroom in the Beijing Second Experimental Primary School quiver with earnestness, as they sing out phrases their teacher encouragingly claps her hands to keep rhythm for. To the uninitiated they sound a b
it like small animals yelping in pain. But, in fact, they are in the process of performing a sophisticated albeit dying art form that has long been iconic of the Chinese civilisation — Peking Opera.
Requiring years of training not only to perform but also to appreciate, the Peking Opera is not an easily accessible art. Involving the mastery of a range of subtle facial expressions, enhanced by heavy layers of mask-like make up, the atonal clanging of gongs and cymbals and a series of elongated trills sung in falsettos, this once-popular art has in recent years been reduced to the heavily subsidised fare of State television.
Following three decades of economic reforms, youngsters in China’s big cities are far more likely to be seen lounging around the neighbourhood McDonalds sending text messages to friends about the latest rock concert, rather than thronging Peking Opera theatres. As a result, both the number of venues and troupes dedicated to the traditional art are in decline. And what was once considered the highest artistic expression of Chinese culture is now often poked fun at by young people for whom the opera is laughably antiquated and not particularly tuneful.
Revival initiative
In a bid to save the opera from greying into obscurity, China’s Ministry of Education recently announced a pilot project in which 200 primary schools across 10 provinces are to include Peking Opera as part of their music curriculum. But instead of being welcomed, the proposal has proved to be surprisingly controversial, meeting with a cold response from teachers and parents.
According to the Ministry, the aim of the new initiative is to “help students better appreciate Chinese culture and cultivate patriotism”. However, only 27 per cent of some 21,000 respondents to an opinion poll conducted by popular Internet portal Sina.com, believed the project would in fact help promote traditional Chinese culture.
Many parents argue that Peking Opera is too difficult to learn about in any meaningful way for primary school children who are already burdened with an excess of exams. Other criticism have centred on the lack of expertise of music teachers in schools. “If the teachers themselves hardly know anything about Peking Opera, what can they be expected to teach students?” asked one netizen.
The real controversy, however, hinges on the fact that the majority of the 15 operas selected by the Ministry of Education for the project consist of what are known as “model” as opposed to classical operas.
“Model operas” were a repertoire of politically acceptable pieces introduced into the oeuvre by Mao Zedong’s wife Jiang Qing, during the tumultuous Cultural Revolution period (1966-76). The Cultural Revolution was a time when anything traditional was under attack and Peking Opera was no exception. Given the subject matter of classical operas which told stories of emperors, concubines and generals, they were deemed as remnants of a feudal past which had no place in the new communist China.
The majority of opera theatres were thus closed, and many famous opera stars vilified, some even driven to suicide. The performance of traditional pieces was banned and the new model operas introduced in their stead focused exclusively on revolutionary stories exemplifying communist tenets.
.Wang Rukun, a senior teacher at the Peking Opera Vocational College, recalls how his training as a young boy at the same school, was cut short by the Cultural Revolution. It took nine-years to complete a full-training regime at the time. Classes took up 10-12 hours a day and all the students boarded in, separated from their parents. Their sole focus was on their art.
But after Mr. Wang spent only seven years in the school, the Cultural Revolution broke out and all regular opera performances were cancelled. His own study of classical works came to an abrupt halt and he began instead to learn the eight model operas authorised by Jiang Qing, spending the next decade performing in the countryside and factories for audiences of workers and farmers.
Mr. Wang, who turns 60 this year, lets out a long sigh. He compares the state of the Peking Opera Vocational College today to the days when he applied for a place as a 11-year-old. “In those days less than one out of every 100 students could hope to get a place. Today we choose one out of 10.”
The school currently has some 300 students who train for five years. “No one has the patience for nine-year training any more,” rues Mr. Wang.
He attributes the current decline in interest in the opera to the global phenomenon of a tension between the classical and the modern. “Everywhere young people prefer pop music and American culture to traditional art,” he says.
“Where China is different is in the fact that we also lost our audience for the traditional arts for 10 years during the Cultural Revolution. So this added fuel to the fire of a natural loss of interest resulting from globalisation.”
Poor remuneration
Tickets to a Peking Opera performance today, cost between RMB 30 -1000 ($4-140). But there have been incidents in recent years where even shows for which free tickets are distributed fail to attract a full house. The average Peking Opera performer can hope for a monthly salary of RMB 2,000 ($280). In Beijing this is less than what a driver employed by a household often earns.
Mr. Wang is silent for a while after outlining this gloomy state-of-affairs. He brightens up however when talking of the latest initiative of introducing Peking Opera in schools. “It’s a great idea,” he enthuses. “Getting youngsters exposed to the art at a young age is the only way to save it.”
While he is ambivalent about the number of model operas that will form part of the new curriculum, he also believes that given their relatively modern themes model operas might be easier for young children to relate to than the more classical pieces.
At the Beijing Second Experimental Primary School, Peking Opera classes have already been on the menu of elective extra-curricular activities for the last five years. Following the new directive, the Opera will now be introduced into the mainstream music curriculum, giving all students a chance to sample it.
“The kids might not be able to become experts in Peking Opera from a single class a week, but the idea is to help them appreciate rather than perform,” explains Feng Hong, the school’s Vice Principal.
Her voice is drowned out by the high-pitched keening of the girls who continue to sing at the head of the classroom. Next door is a boys’ training session. They are rehearsing a model opera describing the heroic deeds of communist guerrillas fighting invading Japanese forces.
The 20-odd gathered boys sing loudly, volume seemingly at a greater premium than skill. But they obviously enjoy the session, the majority of them screwing up their eyes in concentration.
Ten-year-old Liu Shang Chen, who asks to be called “Jack”, says he became interested in Peking Opera a year ago when his parents took him to see a performance. He loved it even though his parents themselves are not particularly enthused by the art form.
“I think Peking Opera is a really important part of Chinese culture,” says Jack, his rosy cheeks glowing with sincerity. Asked if he prefers model operas to traditional ones, he quickly nods in the affirmative. “My favourite ones are the anti-Japanese operas because the stories are so heroic and I want to be brave like the heroes who fight the Japanese.”
Chang Zi Guang, a.k.a “Andy”, begs to differ. Also 10-years-old, Andy says he likes classical operas more because “they are more beautiful.”
This is a classroom full of children who have elected to study Peking Opera. The compulsory classes for all students will only begin later in the year.
Personal choices
Do Andy’s friends think him weird for having chosen this particular elective? “Yes, some friends don’t like Peking Opera. They think it’s odd. But I don’t care because I really like it,” comes the answer.
The school bell rings signalling the end of the period and the boys rush off to their next class, chattering excitedly, unaware of the heavy burden on their youthful shoulders, where the fate of an ancient art, hangs in the balance.
Printer friendly
page
Send this article to Friends by
E-Mail
Magazine
|
