(III) Mei Lanfang and the Twenty-First Century / The Trilogy of Mei Lanfang

Author: Xu Chengbei
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2000-11-01
Features: The world of art is already a world of "many none," the world has become smaller, and Peking Opera has become smaller too. For Mei Lanfang, there must be a deeper understanding built upon learning. The drums and gongs of the opera house still need to be beaten. Peking Opera has its "capable" and "eager." Never force a duck onto a perch. Examine the journey of Peking Opera with a scientific attitude—its history includes both "listening to opera" and "watching opera," which no one would object to. As for the recent decline of Peking Opera, does it indicate that Peking Opera has already entered a new stage (though we seem to be blind to it)?
Author's Self-Introduction: Five years have passed since the "Ten Years, Three Writings on Mei Lanfang." Across all sectors of society, everyone is examining and researching how to face the "end of the century," and I, too, have been reflecting for a while, my mind shifting from distress to tranquility. In these five years, I have also undergone some changes. I left the Peking Opera Theater and became a researcher at the Chinese Academy of Arts. Thus, I no longer focused on the "real actions" of Peking Opera but instead carefully selected topics that interested me and were within my capacity to pursue "scholarship."
During these five years, I did the following:
- Wrote a 510,000-character book titled Peking Opera and Chinese Culture, published by the People's Publishing House. I aimed to provide a comprehensive and systematic discussion.
- Looking back at my earlier works, Mei Lanfang and the 20th Century and The Centennial Commemoration of Mei Lanfang, I indeed felt that there was still more to explore. It was also around this time that friends in the publishing industry suggested I write another book, Mei Lanfang and the 21st Century, and "connect" the three works, presenting them as a trilogy titled Mei Lanfang. My friends even "clearly defined" the intrinsic functions of the three books—the first reviews the past, the second opens a cross-section, and the third looks to the future. I was very excited and spent two or three years drafting the outline four times.
- Wrote and published the trilogy Old Beijing. This directly led me to confront Beijing culture. With such an opportunity, I first realized that Beijing culture was truly "vast," while Peking Opera culture was noticeably "smaller." Moreover, when I first planned to write Old Beijing, I intended it to be a one-time project, but after its publication and popularity, I decided to continue. From having no overall "trilogy" concept initially to extending it into the last two books, I carefully considered the proper scope of a "trilogy." The reflections in Old Beijing trilogy's "Know the Gains and Losses" undoubtedly benefited the planning of the Mei Lanfang trilogy.
A friend gave me a Brief Chronology of Chinese History, priced at six yuan, but it was immensely useful. Initially, I used it to "connect" the Common Era and the era names, allowing me to translate major events in Peking Opera from era names to the Common Era. Later, while working on the Old Beijing trilogy, I used it again to "connect" the affairs of Peking Opera with those of Beijing, creating correlations.
I taught a semester-long elective course on Peking Opera at Peking University, which counted as two credits. Initially, I prepared only for eighteen weeks, but through teaching practice, I refined the purely explanatory approach into a book titled Peking Opera, Peking University, People.
After completing these tasks, I felt it was appropriate to follow the Chinese custom of "rounding up" and attempted to write the final book from the perspective of "connecting" the three works. This book consists of seventeen chapters: the first three chapters explore "centennial reflections" from the vantage point of the new millennium. The following nine chapters are titled "Proposition and Argumentation," focusing on nine issues I deemed important. The last five chapters, "Appreciating Opera," reiterate the "Appreciating Opera" I wrote in 1995, this time with a refined approach. If I drew a dragon back then, this time I aimed to "add the finishing touch."
Summarizing the intent of the preface "Ten Years, Three Writings on Mei Lanfang": Initially, there was no plan for a trilogy, nor did I expect to write three times about the great and extraordinary Mei Lanfang in ten years. It was simply because from 1990 onward, our country and the entire opera world were undergoing great yet challenging transformations, and as a member of the opera world, I was no exception. This is why the motivation to write a trilogy arose. Thus, I worked hard to fulfill this purpose.
What brought immense comfort and motivation was being a cultural researcher, fortunate enough to observe the great masters in my field amid societal changes over these ten years. This was undoubtedly a blessing, a "stroke of luck," but also a test, a "curse." I devoutly awaited the final "grade," not daring to hope for an "excellent," but simply content with a "pass."
Author: December 26, 1999
Excerpt: If… If Meng Xiaodong Hadn’t Left Mei
Meng Xiaodong was an outstanding exponent of the "female sheng" (female old male role) in modern Chinese Peking Opera and a rare talent of her generation. Her union with Mei added a "bright touch" to both their art and humanity. Meng's departure from Mei was largely due to chance; if Mei had not gone to the United States, she might not have faced such awkwardness. Of course, Mei was the one who faced the awkwardness. But in that era, one could believe Mei had her own way of resolving it. The bigger trouble, however, came with the implementation of the Marriage Law after liberation. This issue had also arisen in the families of other male (female-role performers) with polygamous marriages, and they all adopted the "keep only one" approach. But Mei was no ordinary person, and Meng was far from being a concubine of some high-ranking democratic. Their continued relationship would at least cause interference for Mei, and this interference would only intensify with subsequent political movements.
If Mei and Meng had decisively separated after liberation, it would have sparked many discussions in and outside the opera world, some perhaps trivial but artistically valuable. The longer these discussions lasted, the more they might have affected the stability needed in the early years of the new nation. Imagine: if Mei and Meng had simply "let the matter rest" and left it to government authorities to "judge by heaven," even a genius like Zhou Enlai would have found it. He would undoubtedly have had to consult Mao Zedong again. Mao was absolutely brilliant in warfare, but dealing with such domestic matters might have been the closest he ever came to being in over his head.
If the War of Resistance Against Japan Had Not Broken Out
If the War of Resistance Against Japan had not broken out, what would China have been like? What would the opera world have been like? Without the war, the power dynamics and conflicts between the Nationalists and the Communists would have continued at their original levels, and the new changes we see today would not have emerged. Smaller yet, second and third on the list, we could then discuss the Jing (Beijing) and Hai (Shanghai) schools of Peking Opera. In that case, Mei Lanfang would not have retired to Shanghai (later moving to Hong Kong) as a recluse in 1933, and Cheng Yanqiu would not have had to farm in the Qinglong Bridge area of the western suburbs of Beijing. The Jing school of Peking Opera in Beijing would have continued to flourish, while Peking Opera in the south and Shanghai would have lagged behind.
If Ma Lianliang Had Been Stronger
This might be a topic that has yet to be discussed. If Ma Lianliang had been stronger, and if some people had been more restrained, the overall strength of the Jing school of Peking Opera would have been even greater, and this might have influenced Mei Lanfang. The main roles in Peking Opera are the sheng (male roles) and dan (female roles). The sheng primarily refers to the laosheng (old male role), and the dan primarily refers to the qingyi (young female role). Since the 1920s, Mei Lanfang had firmly held the top position as a qingyi, while Ma Lianliang rose to prominence shortly after graduating from the Fuliangcheng troupe and consistently held a place among the "Four Great Dan" in the first, second, and third phases. These achievements confirmed his status as a leading figure in the Beijing sheng school.
When I was young, I heard opera fans say in the theater, "If you haven’t heard Mei Lanfang and Ma Lianliang in your lifetime, it’s as if you haven’t lived." Mei and Ma were both equally dedicated to their art and had little understanding of politics. But Mei was not foolish about major matters, while Ma sometimes made mistakes. As a result, Ma had to pay a heavy price for this, and each mistake affected him for many years. In truth, Ma’s "flaws" in an era of political pursuit also made it impossible for Mei to help him.
If the Extreme "Left" Had Taken Hold Immediately After Liberation
This issue has rarely been discussed, but those who lived through the Cultural Revolution must have thought about it. If the extreme "Left" of the Communist Party of China had taken hold immediately after liberation, the order in the opera world would have been thrown into chaos, and Cheng Yanqiu might have replaced Mei Lanfang. Cheng was the first member of the opera world to join the Party, with Zhou Enlai and He Long as his sponsors. Early in his career, Cheng felt deeply stifled, and now he was finally able to release his frustrations, sometimes even directly targeting Mei Lanfang. It is said that Cheng received a gentle reprimand within the Party for this, and Mei, under this "pressure," also sought to join the Party.
Another result of the extreme "Left" taking hold immediately after liberation would be a significant boost to the rise of local operas. They would have intentionally or unintentionally "oppress" Peking Opera, as local operas had far more effective ways of "coordinating with and subordinating themselves to politics" when performing modern operas.
If Zhou Xinfang Had Been "Broader" After Liberation
Zhou Xinfang was very lenient on stage. If he had extended his "reach" into Shanghai’s film and theater circles after liberation and achieved even broader accomplishments, the Hai school of theatrical culture would have flourished even more, posing a fiercer challenge to Beijing. In this context, Mei Lanfang would likely have been unable to remain as leisurely as before and would have had to catch up quickly. The entire Beijing theatrical circle would have been shaken, and the slow, classical character of Peking Opera would have had to soften.
If Mei Had Not Died in 1961
If Mei’s death had been postponed, how would he have responded in the 1964 Peking Opera modern opera performance? A bigger question is: could he have weathered the Cultural Revolution in peace? Lao She was beaten to death in the (Grand Temple) and committed suicide. If Mei had also been dragged to the, the humiliation he would have endured would have been even greater than Lao She’s. Facing such a situation, what would he have done? Xun Huisheng endured the humiliation in the but felt unbearable upon returning home and eventually endured it. Mei Lanfang, after all, was one of the "Four Great Dan," the pillar of the entire Chinese theatrical world—could he have endured it?
It must be admitted that Mei’s death was "timely." At the time, the Party called him an "exemplary figure of the generation," but during the Cultural Revolution, the Red Guards looted his home and desecrated his grave. Mei and all other famous cultural figures could not remain aloof. He had only two choices: commit suicide with honor or compromise and endure. It seemed there was no third option. If he had chosen the latter, he would have had to "clear things up" after the Cultural Revolution, and only then could he be understood. But this "clearing up" would have been extremely painful for Mei. Fortunately, politicians are usually skilled at making reports and self-criticisms, possibly due to professional habits. One self-criticism is not enough; they can immediately follow with a second. Poor Mei Lanfang would have been in trouble. His mouth could only speak of opera; if he used that attitude to self-criticize, he would have suffered greatly. Thus, truly standing in Mei’s own shoes, 1961 was undoubtedly his best year to die—too early was not good, and too late would have been even more troublesome.
Today, looking back at the passing of famous figures across history, one finds that it also involves a matter of "great wisdom and courage." Being willing and able to leave when the time comes is likely better than clinging to life for a little longer. The name "thousand years of life and ten thousand generations" and the actual impact on national and people’s livelihoods are clearly more important than anything else.