Peking Opera tries to regain its voice
By Pallavi Aiyar
BEIJING - 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. To the
uninitiated they sound a bit like small animals yelping in pain. But they are
in the process of performing a sophisticated albeit dying art form that has
long been iconic of Chinese civilization - Peking Opera.
Requiring years of training not only to perform but also to appreciate, 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 subsidized
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 neighborhood McDonald's
sending text messages to friends about the latest rock concert, rather than
thronging Peking Opera theaters. 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.
In a bid to save the opera from graying 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%
of some 21,000 respondents to an opinion poll conducted by popular Internet
portal Sina.com believed the project would help promote traditional Chinese
culture.
Many parents argue that Peking Opera is too difficult to learn in any
meaningful way for primary school children who are already burdened with an
excess of exams. Other criticism have centered 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?" read one
posting on an Internet blog.
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 theaters were thus closed, and many famous 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 to 10 to 12 hours a day and all the students boarded
in, separated from their parents. Their sole focus was on their art.
But after Wang spent only seven years in the school, the Cultural Revolution
broke out and all regular opera performances were canceled. His own study of
classical works came to an abrupt halt and he began instead to learn the eight
model operas authorized by Jiang Qing, spending the next decade performing in
the countryside and at factories for audiences of workers and farmers.
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 an 11-year-old: "In those days less than one out every 100 students
could hope to get a place. Today we choose one out of 10."
The school currently has about 300 students who train for five years. "No one
has the patience for nine-year training any more," said Wang.
He attributes the decline in interest to the global phenomenon of tension
between the classical and the modern. "Everywhere young people prefer pop music
and American culture to traditional art," he said.
"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 globalization."
Tickets to a Peking Opera performance today cost between 30-1,000 yuan
(US$4-140). But there have been incidents in recent years where even free shows
have failed to attract a full house. The average Peking Opera performer can
hope for a monthly salary of 2,000 yuan. In Beijing, this is less than a driver
employed by a household often earns.
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 said. "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 past
five years. Following the new directive, 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,"
said Feng Hong, the school's vice principal.
Her voice is drowned by the high-pitched keening of the girls who continue to
sing at the head of the class. Next door is a boys' training session. They are
rehearsing a model opera describing the heroic deeds of communist guerillas
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 asked to be called "Jack", said 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 enthusiastic about the art form.
"I think Peking Opera is a really important part of Chinese culture," said
Jack, his rosy cheeks glowing with sincerity. Asked if he prefers model operas
to traditional ones, he quickly nods in the affirmative. "My favorite ones are
anti-Japanese operas because the stories are so heroic and I want to be brave
like the heroes who fight the Japanese," he said.
Chang Zi Guang, who goes by the name "Andy", begs to differ. Also 10 years old,
Andy said 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.
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," he answered.
The school bell rings, signaling 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; the fate of an ancient art hangs in the balance.
Pallavi Aiyar is the China correspondent for the Hindu and author of
Smoke and Mirrors: An Experience of China (Harper Collins India, May 2008) . For
a review of the book, see
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