living, thinking and writing
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| PRACTICE living, thinking and writing |
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Monday, March 15, 2004 Our artistic life in LA “Now we are a decent couple,” Bin likes to say, “Because we tango”. If we could really master the essence of intimacy and desire in the steps, maybe he would find nothing in it to do with decency. Tango is what I always wanted to learn, largely because of my obsession with its music, which, to me, is a strange combination of refined wildness, down-to-earth dramatics and endless loneliness reeling inside. And when you dance to the beat of the sad melody woven by the cello and accordion, for one second or two you are losing your time, space and identity to those in glamorous drama. When we finished out 3-month lessons on five Argentina Tango and three American Tango steps, I said to myself: I will feel one less sorrow even I left the world tomorrow. One of my old friends used to compare the life journey to a jigsaw puzzle game, and we construct the picture by filling tiny pieces one by one. In my jigsaw puzzle, I guess Tango is a big piece…also, watching Madam Butterfly in Opera house is certainly another one. The waiting, the yearning, the despair and the sheer unconditional love breaking forth from the story and the music have haunting me decades. Nonetheless, my first real encounter with Madam Butterfly is such an unconventional one, with Cio Cio San, along with everyone else moving like a robot on the empty stage. No kimono, no tatami. Every costume is made of a whole piece of cloth from something like aerospace fabric, with only white, grey and black color, absolutely simple style with no decoration or filigree whatsoever. The scene is made of only by lighting and single one post-modern designed chair (must be very uncomfortable to sit on); even the dagger that kills Cio Cio San at the end is an imaginary one. It feels that singers are objects instead of a presenter in the art. In many occasions when they are not singing, they have to maintain their body in absolute stationary gestures that are usually transitory. The idea is quite intriguing here; the actors on stage are like automatic mechanism, and are activated only by their moments of singing. The art director, I guess, is pursuing a pure form of music art, without the distraction of visual effects. And that leaves a lot of space for imagining; like when Cio cio San prepared the returning of Pinkerton, we know from her singing they she decorates her room with flower all over the place, this flower, that flower, so fresh, so fragrant…. We see no flower, we smell no flower, but the magical music planted the flower in the imaginary space in our mind; and later we imagine how the sacred and beautiful Madam Butterfly lying dead surrounded by so many flowers that she prepared for her eternal love. That is a power of simplicity. However, the simplification of the costume too much exposes the physical imperfectness of the actresses. Each of them is basically wrapped in a piece of cloth, with naked shoulders and arms. Sopranos have to be strong to sing in high pitch for three hours, which, to my understanding, makes a slim figure not preferable; and you don’t expect a 20-year old girl can sing this challenging part. But when the mid-aged soprano is singing shyly that “I’m only a little more than 15” followed by the choir “oh, she is still a child”, we can not but hope there are more cloth to cover her voluminous and hefty upper body from which our eyes have nowhere to escape. posted by lmeimei @11:26 PM| permanent link| | |
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