Taiwan Today

Of the four fundamentals of Peking Opera—the chang (singing), nien (reciting), tso (movements), and ta (fighting)—although the latter three are certainly basic, true connoisseurs place the highest premium on the singing. Thus, the most famous and well paid Peking Opera performers are invariably those with the best voices, and not necessarily the most developed movements. Not that a top performer can be grossly lacking in the latter, but if a well executed movement or martial arts sequence can bring loud applause, brilliantly sung lines can bring down the house.

Yet this most difficult aspect of the discipline is last in order on the training list—the other fundamentals are worked on first. Following the tan tzu kung, a part of the fighting fundamental, the next focus is on dramatic movements.

Dramatic movement is very important in Peking Opera, perhaps more so than in the Western drama forms. First off, there is not a single superfluous movement to be found anywhere in the repertoire required of the proficient Peking Opera performer. Every movement is dedicated to relating some aspect of what is happening on stage—time, place, propless effects, the emotions and thoughts of the characters.

Peking Opera makes minimal use of sets, and frugal use of props. In the past, most opera troupes traveled from performance to performance and had rather limited finances, scraping just to put together the required costumes. Transportation in old China also made the transport of elaborate sets and props from one place to another highly impractical.

This scarcity was made up, in part, by means of the creative application (very often in an abstract way) of one set or prop with several different symbolic meanings.

A perfect example is a set consisting of a simple table and chairs. It was not even necessary to carry these along, since they were available everywhere. This simple set would be put to maximum use: A table with two chairs in front of it could represent the livingroom of a house; with one of the chairs behind the table, it could denote a superior official talking to a subordinate. Chairs at either side of the table, for the player to walk across, constitute a bridge. And when the player stands on a table, it is a mountain.

Other props, even without multiple meanings, are equally simple. A riding switch with tassels hanging from it represents a horse. A paddle moved in a rowing manner is a boat.

More important than the props in communicating settings are the movements of the actors. Indeed, the effects of the simple props are not fully dependent on the props themselves, but also depend on the movements of the players using them. A player with a silk-tassled riding switch has a horse, however, there are specific movements he must perform to mount the horse. When players want to step off a boat, it involves more than just stopping the motion of their paddles. There is a coordinated rocking, up and down, of the players still remaining when one steps onto the shore or dock—an approximation of real movement that adds depth to the performance.

There are no houses or door props on stage. When a player wants to enter a house, he must go through the motions of opening a door and stepping across a threshold—not the same motions as used to open a door today, but rather for the traditional bolt and latch door of ancient China; the movements have been preserved in Peking Opera down to the present.

Although modern opera troupes could very well afford to put together complete stage sets, these traditions of Peking Opera remain among its very special characteristics.

Movement to indicate place and action is only a small part of the traditional proficiency demanded of a Peking Opera player. He also indicates the personality of the character portrayed as well as what that character is thinking and feeling. Unlike the Western stage performer, who often uses hand or eye movements simply to accentuate his speaking parts, the Peking Opera player may use movements to indicate something not at all discernible in the sung or spoken lines. For instance, a Peking Opera performer, singing or reciting, holds a hand out in front of his body to indicate he is only speaking his thoughts aloud for the sake of the audience.

The long flowing sleeves called shui hsiu, worn for many Peking Opera roles, are veritable storehouses of indications: The time of year—the actor uses a sleeve as a fan to indicate summer, or buries his hands deep, in the opposite sleeve to show it is winter; and a female ching yi can show either anger, shyness, or delight, depending on how she manipulates those long sleeves.

A brave general indicates confidence or apprehension concerning an upcoming battle by the manner in which he strokes his beard. And there are many other such special signals. Most are highly stylized and abstract, and require some familiarity before they can be understood.

The students at Fu Hsing gather for the chi pen kung (fundamental movement session) after breakfast every day. Eye, hand, body, and leg movements—students must learn all from the ground up, even how to walk. In one exercise, arms are outstretched, with one palm down and the other hand in a fist, as the student practices fast walking. In this most basic of exercises, like all the rest to come, all aspects of eye, hand, leg, and body motion must be coordinated. A truly successful Peking Opera performer will have developed a near perfect command of all such body movements.

Eye movement is especially important in Peking Opera. One talented student who later went on to become one of the most famous Peking Opera stars ever, thought, at first, his career would be ruined because of an initial inability to control his eye movements. He finally overcame the problem by carefully watching pigeons in flight. His eye muscles strengthened in this manner, and he eventually was able to master the operatic eye rituals. Only after two years of dedicated practice of the basic movements do the students go on to study particular eye movements for particular roles.

The last session of the morning is pa tzu kung (fighting with weapons). As with the unarmed fighting techniques, only a few will go on to specialize here, yet all students are expected to be proficient in the basics. The weapons include spears, the long knife, cudgels, halberds, and several different types of swords. Special attention is paid to the proper technique and discipline for handling each weapon. The students usually practice in pairs—spear against sword, spear and long knife, spear against spear, etc. All fighting routines eventually performed on stage are carefully rehearsed beforehand. Audiences hold their breaths as double knives strike together or a spear thrust at an opponent's head misses by only an inch or two.

Thus, students must pay close attention to the proper sequence for each different routine. Some, for instance, may call for two or four stabs of the spear to the side of the head, others only one. In most cases, weapons used are wooden, painted to look real. Some scripts, however, involve real weapons, in which case a miss can have serious consequences.

Weapons fights and acrobatics are often combined in exciting routines. In one, a female combatant repels four spear-wielding males with her spear, and they then throw their spears at her from a distance—across the stage—two at a time. She kicks them aside, one off each foot, and they arc gracefully up and back through the air in such a way that they return to the throwers' hands. Finally, she does a back tumble, kicking the last spear thrown at her gracefully back, at the very mid-point of her tumble, and once again it arcs into the hands of the thrower.

Dynastic China at no time was a widely literate society. With the exception of the very minor percentage of the population which made up the scholar and official classes, the overwhelming majority—mostly peasant farmers and laborers—never saw a written page in all their lives. Not that anyone would have necessarily objected to the peasants being educated, but it was simply that their lifestyle precluded the luxury of education. In a society where a woman often couldn't be spared from the fields to wait at home for the birth of a child, there was neither the time nor money.

Among those traditionally among the illiterate were Peking Opera actors. If the Peking Opera actors shone on stage, for the most part, their personal lives and backgrounds were a study in hardship. Frequently from broken or impoverished families, often as young as seven years old, such students would be accepted by teachers on the basis of contracts from the parents that made the children almost as much servants as students, required to do menial house tasks at the discretion of their new masters. If a teacher was displeased with either the student's work or studies—well, instances of cruel treatment were not unheard of.

Yet it was to the teacher's direct benefit to train his pupils well, for once having achieved a level of proficiency, students were expected to go out and put on performances; the students' shares of the proceeds were turned over to the teacher as payment for room, board, and instruction.

The schedules for both training and performing were rigorous, with physical training and studies starting in the morning, often before sunrise, and afternoons devoted to watching or participating in performances. Some teachers would even have their students perform more than once a day. Only when the terms of the contract had been fulfilled, assuming the teacher was satisfied the debt owed had been fully repaid, was the student allowed to go off on his own.

As can be seen, the opportunity for a student of Peking Opera to obtain any type of academic training was negligible. Even when formal training schools for Peking Opera were established at the beginning of the Republic, they still adhered to the traditional schedule (the only major difference for the student was an obligation to the school rather than to an individual teacher). However, this was to change with the founding of the school known as the Chung Kuo Hsi Chu Hsueh Hsiao in 1930.

Founded by Chinese who had received some Western education, the time-hallowed ultra-strict methods were now modified, with punishments lessened and, most significantly, the students now pursued academics—all such changes reflecting, in general, the changes now taking place throughout the country. China's younger generations blamed the imperial closed-door policy and blind resistance to foreign ideas for the sorry situation China faced from the 19th Century on, and they looked to education and new ideas as the remedy.

Rather ironically, critics in those days said that the performances of graduates from the Chung Kuo Hsi Chu Hsueh Hsiao were inferior to those of the students of the old system. This does not seem inconceivable, as the modern students devoted a portion of their time and attention to academics; previously, all effort was strictly directed to Peking Opera training.

In addition to their acting training, all students at the Fu Hsing Academy must receive primary and secondary school educations equivalent to those accorded students in the regular Taiwan public schools.

Thus, students at Fu Hsing really have to work much harder than their non-acting public school contemporaries. Indeed, by the time they break for lunch (at 12:10 P.M.) they have already been through almost six hours of workouts, and have exhausted a great deal of energy. After eating, the students rest till 1:30 P.M., then go on to their afternoon and evening classes, which are all academic. And while most public schools dismiss their classes in the late afternoon, the students at Fu Hsing will have classes all the way through till 9:00 P.M., except for a 5:30-7:00 P.M. dinner break (which most of them devote to doing their homework). Often enough, there is still homework for the later evening hours too.

That leaves little or no time for the usual student recreational pleasures (except for Sundays, which are free), yet Fu Hsing students end up fully literate as well as stage professionals, and many later go on to university and even graduate schools. Before their time, China's traditional opera students, once trained, never had the option of pursuing careers outside of acting.

More importantly, perhaps, those students who don't stick it out through the eight years at the Fu Hsing Dramatic Arts Academy have other alternatives. Significantly, of the forty students admitted for each new class, when graduation rolls around eight years later, sometimes less than ten are left. Actually, it is not that uncommon for there to be more teachers than students in the graduation picture.

Students leave for reasons ranging from final disenchantment with the severe schedule to psychological problems, expulsion for bad behavior, etc. However, when it is necessary for a student to leave before he graduates, the school provides counseling and assistance to help assure a smooth transfer into the regular public school system.

At present, about two hundred different Peking Operas are regularly performed on stage, and numerous others are performed with lesser frequency. The opera repertoire draws from many different sources within traditional Chinese culture, including sections from such famous novels as All Men Are Brothers, Journey to the West, and Golden Lotus, the countless legends and folktales, and the long heritage of historical events. The variety of characters en­ compassed within the repertoire is massive, running into the many thousands—people from every walk of life, from emperor to beggar.

For ease of classification, the numerous roles are traditionally divided into four majority categories—sheng (male roles); tan (female roles); ching (painted-face roles); and chou (comic roles). Each of these is further subdivided, the male roles into three: the lao sheng (the more dignified parts for bearded middle-aged or older men); the hsiao sheng (younger men); and the wu sheng (military men skilled in acrobatics and fighting techniques). The female roles involve six subdivisions: the ching yi (virtuous young women); the hua tan (more open, flirtatious roles); the wu tan (martial artists, skilled in fighting); the tao ma tan (strong personalities, but with more emphasis on singing parts than for the wu tan); the kuei men tan (young unmarried personalities which can vary depending on the character portrayed), the hua shan (a role between that of the ching yi and hua tan); and the lao tan (old women).

In the olden days, women were not allowed to perform on stage, and all female roles were performed by male actors who perfected the mimicking of feminine mannerisms, movements, and vocal expression to a very convincing degree to please demanding audiences. The uninformed observer could not have identified the consummate feminine-role player as a male.

The painted-face roles are subdivided into the wen ching (skilled in singing); the wu ching (specialized in acrobatic and fighting movements); and the chia tzu (especially skilled in acting and movement). The chou (clown players) add humor to the often­-serious content.

Unlike other drama forms, where an experienced player can take on various roles for different performances, in Peking Opera, performers specialize in one role-playing area for their entire acting careers, since each sub-role places completely different demands on the player in terms of the four operatic fundamentals—singing, reciting, movement, and fighting. For example, the way in which a ching yi and a hua tan walk, though both are young women, is entirely different. The lao sheng role requires singing in a strong and natural voice, while the hsiao sheng sings in a falsetto. A ching who is very good at singing will seldom study the martial arts the way a wu ching would. Each and every role subdivision thus involves a whole concentrated study; its mastery requires a lifetime of dedication.

After Fu Hsing students have completed their first two years of basic training, their instructors will assign them to the role categories which they will study for their next six years. These assignments are based on several specific factors, notably including the voice and physical appearance of the student. A student with a strong and resonant voice might be specially suited for a ching role; a student with a rather large head in proportion to the body would not be chosen for a female role. Other rather obvious considerations include the student's natural abilities, talents, and interest, and the various instructors' appraisals of their impact.

Once assigned a role category, the student concentrates on all its requirements—the stilted shoe, for instance. Many of the female role­ costumes require such shoes, called chiao, in imitation of the bound feet of women in old China. Since women's roles were formerly acted by men, the stilted shoes played an important part in that imitation. The chaio continue in use today for those roles which require them, regardless of whether the player is male or female. The whole gait and manner of the role is affected by the way the stilted shoes are worn, so the training is extremely important.

For students first starting to wear the stilted shoe, it is difficult just to stand, much less move and perform acrobatics, and painful as well. The first practices involve standing for less than a minute, gradually increasing in time until the students are able to go for long periods.

The method of training requires careful supervision from the instructor. If done improperly, the bones of the feet can be injured, making it impossible for the student to ever wear the stilted shoes again.

For this discipline, the student begins by standing on top of a brick placed on a bench, one foot on the brick, one leg raised above the head. As the training progresses, the brick is laid on its side and finally stood on end. Once the specialized student becomes proficient in performing with stilted shoes, all his future acrobatics and movements will be practiced wearing them.

Every role even has its own peculiarities for speaking or singing, which must be fully mastered by the student. The ching must speak and sing with a strong, loud voice—resonating—almost like a bellow. The hsiao sheng sings in a constrained falsetto (which is extremely difficult to master). And for the various female roles (also differing), no matter how sweet and modest a voice a ching yi may have, it must have a strong enough quality of projection to be heard over the orchestra.

Voice training for a Peking Opera player is a long and laborious process. Students at Fu Hsing like to train their voices out by the lake at the crack of dawn; while holding leg-stretch poses, they practice scales and basic voice exercises, trying to make their tones carry across the lake. They must finally demonstrate a sufficient mastery of the basics before they can go on to study actual operatic roles.

A notably special talent of the Chinese people (be it inborn, the result of centuries of training, or engendered by learning the thousands of written Chinese characters) is a unique ability to memorize. Children, from almost the time they can talk, are taught to memorize special moral sayings, which they can rattle off fluently years before they may truly appreciate the meanings. And Chinese history records the extreme cases of scholars who memorized classics and histories exceeding encyclopedias in length, in preparation for the imperial civil service exams.

In any case, this ability to memorize is most important in the case of Peking Opera players. Of course, formerly, many actors were totally unable to read, but were still expected to memorize scripts in tremendous number.

A good Peking Opera player may have a memory repertoire of upwards of a hundred scripts, all of which can be called up at short notice. In Peking Opera, there are no set-asides of weeks working with scripts in preparation for most new performances, even though the operas may run as long as three hours. If a featured player is ill or absent due to unforseen circumstances, the scheduled opera may be supplanted just hours before a performance. If there are several consecutive performances by an opera troupe, often each day's presentation will differ; obviously, the players must be ready to walk on stage and perform with a fluency unhampered by uncertain memorization.

Although today's players not only read and write, but sometimes are scholars in their field, there is still no way around the requirement for memorization. Each player must demonstrate mastery of a large repertoire.

Once proficient in the basics, each Fu Hsing student begins to memorize the parts in each script for his own role category. And since besides memorizing their own roles, it is necessary to be familiar with the lines of other actors, they can often be seen walking around campus talking to themselves. Every student has his own method to assist in the memorization process, yet no matter what, it remains a tedious and difficult task—another in a long stretch of hurdles which must be overcome.

For the students, the weeks roll into months, and the months into years. Their heads throb with memorized scripts; they are still maintaining academic grade levels as their bodies ache from rigorous physical routines, which progressively become more demanding as the more advanced levels are reached.

The tremendous amount of knowledge and technique gathered over a seeming eternity must then be coordinated; like a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces are, there, then need to be put together.

The students will start working in practice costumes which—since the real costumes for the performance are too valuable—approximate the weight and feel of the real thing. Eventually, dress rehearsals are arranged, and finally the students appear on stage, in real costumes, in front of a live audience.

The all-important "star" factor of stage presence can only be perfected when hundreds or thousands of eyes and ears are attentive to the player from the black recesses of the auditorium. The first time on the "live" stage is also the most nerve-wracking (for many) step in this process.

Logically, no one can be blamed for failing to stand up to the eight years of trial and tribulation preceding that spe­ cial step. For those who do manage to stick it out, a specially rewarding change takes place. Like mountain trees growing at the limits of the timber line, where most other trees can not live, the full­ course students have learned not only to live, but to flourish, in an environment too demanding for others.

It is not only right and fitting, but necessary that this occur, for the end of the eight years at Fu Hsing is not a finish line, but a new beginning. The complexities of Peking Opera are such that even a lifetime is never enough for perfection.

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An interview with Peking Opera veteran Wang Shao-chou

Sidelights on the Art of Face Painting

Wang Shao-chou, a native of Tientsin, Hopeh Province, began studying Peking Opera at the age of seven and, after three years, officially joined an acting troupe as a student. After eight years of study with the troupe, Wang achieved mastery of ching (painted face) roles but, desirous of improving his technique still further, went to Shanghai to study with his father, who at that time was a very famous Peking Opera player. To the delight of audiences, father and son appeared on stage together. And through hard work and perseverance, young Wang achieved critical acclaim for his operatic skills.

In 1948 Wang came to Taiwan, where he continued to perform in Peking Opera. Presently an instructor at the Fu Hsing Dramatic Arts Academy, Wang has now been involved with Peking Opera for more than 50 years. In addition to instructing students in the art of Peking Opera face painting, he is also compiling a complete reference work on the subject.

Mr. Wang, when did the custom of face painting for certain Peking Opera characters begin, and what was its purpose?

Wang: It really started about 1,500 years ago with the wearing of masks. During the Six Dynasties period, Chang Kang, who was the eldest son of the Northern Chi ruler, Wenhsiang, served as a general for the Northern Chi army. He was a very brave tighter but had facial features considered somewhat effeminate. In order to overcome this great disadvantage for a warrior, he wore a mask into battle and quite successfully scared his opponents. In imitation of Chang Kung, who was later given the title of Lan Ling Wang (King of Lan Ling), many later stage players wore masks.

The major problem with these early masks was that the actor had to bite down on a piece of wood behind the mask mouth area to hold it in place. And this hindered him in speaking or singing. Eventually the mask was abandoned, and the design was painted directly on the face during the Yuan Dynasty.

When the mask designs were first painted right on the face, they were much more simple than they are at present—only a few strokes here and there around the eyes, nose, and mouth. Not until the Ching Dynasty, when Peking Opera began evolving into its present form, was the face fully painted.

Full-face painting is limited to the ching role, which is exaggerated in terms of costume, face painting, actions, and speech.

The reason for face painting is to indicate to the audience the basic nature of the character being played. There is no narrative introduction of the stage characters in Peking Opera. Each provides his own introduction through his movement, way of speaking, costume, and, in the case of the ching role, face painting.

As soon as a ching walks on stage, the audience knows what kind of a character is being played. For example, a ching whose face is painted all white is cunning, devious, or even traitorous, and will often meet a bad end. A practically all-red face indicates bravery and loyalty. Gold and silver are used for gods or spirits.

Not only do the colors indicate the character, but the specific design is also an important indicator: that is, more lines painted on the face indicate a more complex character, etc.

How many different types of painted faces are there, and how many of them are commonly seen today?

Wang: The painted face in Peking Opera, as we know it today, got started during the Ching Dynasty, but peaked at the very beginning of the Republic of China, when many famous ching players developed their own areas of face painting expertise. At that time, as many as 100-200 different painted faces were commonly seen on stage. Today, that number has dwindled to about 30-40, because so many scripts were lost over the last 75 years and others are limited in performance. Most present day ching players, even famous ones, don't recognize more than ten different painted faces. To compensate for this limited number, different faces can be "borrowed" for use on more than one opera character. With certain characters, such as Kuan Yu or Pao Kung, the "borrowing" of standard face designs is still not allowed; however, in other cases it is perfectly acceptable, otherwise there would not be enough to go around.

How did you begin specializing in face painting?

Wang: From the time I officially started studying Peking Opera at the age of eleven, I concentrated on the ching role. First I studied wen ching, then wu ching. When I graduated eight years later, I practiced for chia tzu, a ching char­acter role adept at acting and various stage movements, but a lesser degree of singing, under the tutelage of my father.

Painting the face is an important aspect of the ching role, and it became an intimate part of my study and ensuing acting experience; however, at first I didn't pay special attention to it. Only after I had been doing it for many years did I start to realize the special beauty involved in the art of face painting—beautiful not only in terms of line and appearance, but in the range of its design inspirations. In fact, it can be said that the inspirations for face-painting designs come from everywhere in nature—creatures of the sky and land, flowers, grasses. Once I realized the beauty and depth of the art of face painting, it became a major interest.

In days past, did specialists paint the players', or did they have to do it themselves? And did they remember all of them?

Wang: In the past, ching players painted their own faces before a performance.

While they were still studying, the teacher would be there to help and instruct them. Since the painted face for a ching role is essentially symmetrical in design, the teacher would paint one half of the face before a performance, and the student would practice by painting the other half.

However, I usually paint the whole face for my students, especially if they don't have a lot of experience. Once they become truly interested, and have sufficient experience, they begin to paint their faces on their own.

In the days when I was studying, one more or less had to remember the different face designs by heart. Nowadays there are illustrated books and color photographs, so if a student forgets, he has a reference to consult.

In my student days, if there was a difficult or unusual face design, I would paint it out on a piece of paper. Those were much more difficult times, however, and even paper was hard to come by. Often I would have to paint the face design on a piece of old newspaper. But whatever method one used to remember them, it was best not to forget, for then a severe beating at the hands of the teacher would definitely be forthcoming.

What type of paint is used in the painting process? Does it run when the players sweat, and is it at all harmful to the skin?

Wang: The paints are specially formulated, non-chemical, and mostly water-based, manufactured from various plants and minerals, just for the purpose.

Altogether, there are seven major colors: red, yellow, blue, white, black, purple, and green. From those, other minor colors or shades can be created.

With the exception of the red and black, which are oil-based, the other five major colors are water-based and can be washed off rather easily. The reasons for the oil-based paints are that the black and red pigments mix more smoothly in an oil base, and that the different characteristics of the oil and water-based paints keep them from running together as they are painted on.

As far as the paints running when the player sweats, that is just one of the problems. Since most of the paints are easily water soluble, it is inevitable to have some running when an actor sweats; however, through the use of various techniques, we overcome some of the difficulties encountered. For example, to prevent paint from running into a player's eyes, we can use unmixed black paint around the eyes, so running sweat and paint will route around them—drip off the face rather than into the eyes.

Another problem is in cold weather, when the paints can dry out on the actor's face and peel off. In order to prevent this, sugar can be steamed with the paints after processing, and they will not dry out as easily.

To the best of my knowledge, these specially prepared paints do no harm to the skin. During the more than eight years that I was studying Peking Opera, except for the time on the road, I performed every single day and painted my face everyday. To this day, I have been painting my face and performing—for almost fifty years—and have never found any detrimental effect to my skin.

Will new variations or improvements be seen in face painting in the future?

Wang: There is always room for improvement in the manner in which any given design is painted. The beauty, harmony of line, and color are areas that can be improved through dedicated experimentation.

However, the basic designs laid down for the different painted faces can not really be changed or improved upon, since they specifically express the nature of the character portrayed—every range of personality, good, evil, courageous, loyal, etc., and all of the subtle variations which could possibly be imagined. These have already been set forth in designs—already exist. To change or vary the basic designs would alter the basic significance. But for any given design, we can strive to improve our techniques for rendering it to achieve the highest degree of expression.

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An interview with Peking Opera musician Pi Chen-hua

Notes on the Orchestra

Pi Chen-hua, a native of Shantung Province, started studying Peking Opera at the age of 10. However, at 15 his voice changed, and he was forced to abandon singing. Instead, he turned to the study of the hu chin, the major stringed instrument of the Peking Opera orchestra. At 17, he went to Tientsin, in those days a focal point for Peking Opera, to live with relatives and continue his studies with well-known teachers.

Three years later he returned to his native province and, with the end of WWII, spent three years in the Chingtao city of Shantung studying. He came to Taiwan with the Nationalist government in 1949, at the age of 24, and has since made his living performing and teaching as a Peking Opera musician.

Considered one of Taiwan's top hu chin players, Pi is presently on the staff of the Fu Hsing Dramatic Arts Academy, where he imparts his vast practical and theoretical knowledge of Peking Opera orchestrations, and the hu chin in particular, to his students.

Mr. Pi, what is the difference between Peking Opera music and "regular" traditional Chinese orchestra music?

Pi: To begin with, it is helpful to know that the instrumental accompaniment for Peking Opera is called wen wu chang—wen chang referring to the stringed instruments, and wu chang to the percussion. And the development of wen wu chang and "regular" Chinese music have been completely different.

Based on materials available today, we find the earliest traceable origins of wen wu chang in the drama-styled kun chu music.

The origins of "regular" Chinese music are considerably more ancient than those of wen wu chang, and both in terms of musical content and of the instruments used, there are major differences. Most importantly, wen wu chang developed from the music for local drama forms—not as an independent performing art in the manner of the mainstream of Chinese music, but as an accompaniment for drama, which was the thing of main importance.

For example, the ta lo (large gong) had its origins in local drama and, in fact, none of the older local-drama performances in China, to the best of our research, was staged without it. The instrument was very effective in creating a certain mood or atmosphere for the drama, but it had another use as well: In the past, drama performances were not solemn affairs where the audience sat quietly in a theater, as today, but loud social gatherings. The use of the large gong was an effective method of bringing the audience's attention back to the performance. From this example, it can also be seen that the early development of wen wu chang was along a much less sophisticated line than that of traditional Chinese music.

Another important difference is that unlike Chinese music, which has a tremendous repertoire and is constantly being added to, wen wu chang basically constitutes just three main orchestrations, hsi pi, erh huang, and fan erh huang, used repetitively but effectively for a majority of the operas.

What are the principal instruments for wen wu chang?

Pi: Although there may be variations depending on the drama performed, for the most part there are nine musicians. The percussion, or wu chang, section is composed of five musicians who play six instruments—the ta lo and hsiao lo (big and small gongs); the tan pi ku (small drum); the pan (wooden clappers); the pa (cymbals); and the tang ku (drum).

The string section, or wen chang, is composed of four musicians who play the hu chin, erh hu, and the yueh chin (moon fiddle); and the san hsien (three-string fiddle).

For certain dramas, woodwinds may be added, such as the flute or so na (Chinese trumpet), which are the responsibility of the wen chang musicians. The use of woodwinds is, however, quite infrequent. In other instances, additional string or percussion instruments may be added if special musical effects are required, yet for the most part, wen wu chang involves just that basic core of nine musicians.

How is the music of the wen wu chang coordinated? Is there a conductor as in a regular orchestra?

Pi: The wen wu chang is really quite unique in this respect. Obviously, there is a need for some sort of coordination, perhaps even more so than in the case of a strictly musical performance, inasmuch as the wen wu chang does not function independently, but must be closely coordinated with the on-stage action. Yet, there is no conductor to stand up in front of the musicians as for an orchestra. How is it managed, then? The conducting role for wen wu chang is relegated to the musicians, mainly the hu chin player for the wen chang, and the tan pi ku player for the combined wen wu chang.

Within the wen chang, the hu chin is considered the most important, since it's responsible for directly accompanying the singing on stage. Whereas other instruments, such as the san hsien, can miss a note here and there without being noticed, any mistake on the part of the hu chin would be immediately obvious. The hu chin player has to be completely familiar with the whole script—to know how the drama will progress musically and how best to accompany the singers. The other players in the wen chang do not have to have such an in-depth understanding of the drama, but can take their cues from the hu chin.

The lead player of the wu chang, as well as the wen wu chang combined, is the tan pi ku drummer, the same player who also sounds the pan, or clapper, which keeps time for the singing of the actor. The other musicians in the wen wu chang all take their cues from this drummer. Although there are set orchestrations, both the singing and music in Peking Opera are often somewhat improvised, and it is this drummer who is responsible for conducting a smooth coordination between the singer and wen wu chang during such improvisa­tion. Needless to say, the drummer has the most difficult role and requires the most training within the wu chang.

The flute is a very popular Chinese instrument, but is hardly used in Peking Opera. Why?

Pi: The flute is used in Peking Opera, but as you note, not often. Originally it was an important instrument in the southern kun chu style performances. For those parts of Peking Opera which are still in the kun chu style, the flute is still used. However, the majority of Peking Opera is in pi huang, a northern style, for which the flute is not suitable.

There are several reasons. One is that the musical volume of the flute is in­ sufficient to accompany pi huang, which would drown out the subtle tones. Furthermore, the outgoing, robust style of the north would not go together very well with the sounds of the reserved, classical south. Still another problem is the inability of the flute to shift for key, like other instruments in the wen chang. It is much more difficult for singers if they have to adjust their key to the instrument rather than the other way around. Therefore, except when the melody line being used is from kun chu, the flute is not used.

Do you think the music of Peking Opera will change stylistically with the passage of time?

Pi: What changes Peking Opera wen wu chang will go through stylistically depends almost entirely on what changes will take place in the style and content of the performances. To be perfectly honest, the last 200 years has seen very little in the way of advancement or development of Chinese music—actual­ly, somewhat of a period of stagnation, if you want to call it that. This accounts for Chinese music's almost negligible appearance on the international stage.

When Chinese arrangements are performed outside of China, it is usually to Western instruments. Even a great many students of Chinese music start by studying Western music. Very few people consider ways in which traditional Chinese music might be given new blood, although many people admit there is room for improvement.

The wen wu chang, however, is different. It can't strike out on its own in search of innovation, because its development is intrinsically linked to Peking Opera. It is fulfilling the needs for accompaniment to the players on stage, and to step out of those confines would counter what it is trying to accomplish. However, it is possible that, at some point, Peking Opera will go through further change and evolution, as it has in the past; at that time, the wen wu chang will also change accordingly.

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An interview with Peking Opera teacher-player Tracy Chung

Costumes & Complexities

Tracy Chung, born in Taiwan and a graduate of the Fu Hsing Dramatic Arts Academy, studied the lao sheng (older men) role. She went on to the Chinese Culture University where she majored in Chinese drama, graduating at the very top of her class, then returned to Fu Hsing, but this time not as a student, but as a teacher.

Presently, her multifarious involvement in drama includes both teaching duties at Fu Hsing and administrative work, and she is a member of the Fu Hsing Opera Troupe, which she serves in the capacity as stage manager and from time to time as a player as well; and she accompanied the troupe on its recent tour overseas. In addition to all this, she writes a regular column on Peking Opera for a local magazine.

Ms. Chung, what is fundamentally involved in the costuming and make-up for Peking Opera?

Chung: Anyone who has ever seen a Peking Opera performance appreciates the beauty and brilliant color combinations of the costumes, but very few realize the complexity involved in getting all the players properly dressed.

The costumes for Peking Opera are called hsing tou in Chinese, and the first and most important principle for hsing tou is that each costume for each role must accord with specific rules.

An actor can wear a tattered costume, but he can not wear a costume inappropriate to his role. This maxim has been passed down from earlier generations. Previously, many of the costumes were made of silk, with all hand done embroidery. Many are today. This is dictated not by the players' preference or a troupe's financial ability, but by the role to be fitted.

As such embroidered silk costume are very costly, they are handled win great care to make them last as long as possible. However, no matter how well cared for, eventually they show signs of wear. Since it was not always financially possible to replace a worn costume, it was no disgrace to wear a tattered one on stage. However, in no case could a player wear a costume which was not for the role being played, nor can he today.

Costumes of expensive materials, and with time-consuming handwork added, include those of emperors, generals, scholars, officials, etc. Many of these can now cost well upwards of US$1,000 per costume. Therefore, they need to be treated with special care to make them last as long as possible.

The wardrobe section backstage for a Peking Opera performance is, accordingly, very different from those seen elsewhere. Rather than racks of hanging costumes, all one sees is an endless number of trunks. Peking Opera costumes are not hung, but folded and put carefully into trunks.

Formerly, also, Peking Opera troupes often traveled from place to place to perform, and putting the costumes in trunks proved a most practical method of storage and transportation. That custom has carried down unchanged to the present. However, the person who handles the wardrobe knows exactly what is in each trunk and can have access to any costume on a moment's notice.

An iron and ironing board is always at hand, and as soon as the wardrobe manager takes a costume from the trunk, he presses it right away to get it ready for the player to wear. After the performance, the player takes off the costume and it is hung to air. Although the players wear thin undergarments beneath their costumes, sweat often soaks through to the costume and so it must be hung to dry before it can be folded and put back into the trunk.

A costume is folded in a specific way, and one of the first things a student learns before even putting on a costume, is how to fold it.

When a costume needs cleaning, it is still treated in the traditional manner, which is to spray it with a mist of Chinese kaoliang wine and hang it to dry. In former days, improper treatment of one's costume, whether silk or cotton, would most definitely bring a severe reprimand or a beating from one's teacher.

Besides being attractive and colorful, the costumes reveal much about the different characters. The color, material, and style tell us about the rank, status, and personality of the character. For example, the color yellow is always reserved for the emperor, and is embroidered with dragons. A poor commoner wears an unembroidered costume of cotton, in a plain color. And the costumes worn by the different female roles tell not only of their rank and status, but what type of women they are—very shy and virtuous, or open and flirtatious. Spirits and gods have their own types of costumes. And certain characters have particular costumes, such as Kuan Yu, which can not be worn by other characters and are, thereby, immediately identifiable by the audience. In these ways, the costumes increase the depth of understanding of the characters.

Are there any differences in the stages and sets used today as compared with former times?

Chung: The stage used for drama performances and later for Peking Opera has gone through many changes over time, a course of development closely related to the development of drama itself.

The earliest drama in China was part of religious rituals, and drama performances of those times would take place in the vicinity of the temples. A temporary stage would be erected for the duration of the religious festival and then later disassembled. Eventually it occurred to someone, since the religious festivals took place at the slime location on an annual basis, to create a more permanent stage adjoining the temple and thereby save the time and effort of tearing it down each time. This was the beginning of the true dramatic stage in China.

While still in its primitive stage, it continued to go through other changes, such as gaining a roof over the actors, and later over the audience as well—very convenient in times of inclement weather. However, the stage and the audience section were not in the same structure; the audience would look across from one building to the stage in the other.

Eventually, drama moved out of the realm of strictly religious events and evolved into a wider entertainment form. At this time, the stage continued to go through changes as well.

Finally, by the time drama had evolved into Peking Opera as we know it today, the most common stage for its performance was in the tea house. During the time of the Ching Dynasty's Empress Dowager, at first these tea houses were used as places for rehearsals prior to palace performances. Eventual­ly, the role of Peking Opera in these establishments took on greater importance, though the tea houses also remained places for tea drinking and gossiping. It was only later that the stage evolved into the theater we have today, devoted solely to dramatic performances.

Would you sketch some of the complexities involved in putting together a Chinese Opera production, and what is required for a successful production?

Chung: What the audience sees on stage, of course, is only a small part of what goes into a complete production of a Peking Opera.

The process starts with the rehearsals. But the scripts, unlike those in the West, contain nothing in the way of stage direction, players' cues, etc., but just the entire spoken and sung roles, written down. Therefore, for productions involving many players, it is absolutely necessary to coordinate beforehand the actions of all those who will be on stage the day of the performance, even for such simple things as stage entrances and exits.

On the day of the performance, many different things need to be coordinated, perhaps the most important being the make-up and costuming. Every role in Peking Opera has its own costume and make-up. Although each player is basically responsible for his own make-up, for certain more-difficult aspects, such as the hairdo for a ching i role, which is quite complex and involved, there are specialists around to help. The wardrobe, as discussed previously, also requires great attention to detail.

Since the sets and props used in Peking Opera are extremely simple, there is no dropping of curtains to change sets. Special persons are responsible for carrying the sets and props on and off, often while the actors are on stage; they must coordinate their efforts and make the changes in a minimum of time. Things behind stage must be kept very neat and orderly, so everything can be found in a moment's time.

And, of course the musical accompaniment for any given performance must be arranged beforehand. Although there is a basic core of musicians who make up the orchestra, certain dramas will call for more or different instruments. Also, the musicians must be familiar with the script, so that they will be coordinated with the actors.

What it all comes down to is that every performance is a coordinated effort which requires the cooperation of everyone, both on and off stage, working together. When this can be fully achieved, a production has a very good chance of being successful.

Have technological innovations such as colored lights or special sound effects made any difference in the modern presentation of Peking Opera?

Chung: Although Peking Opera is a traditional artform, that does not mean that it can not be improved or accept modern innovations where applicable. For example, the use of modern lighting is very effective in some cases for creating mood. A nighttime scene can be indicated by dimmer lighting, for instance, a possibility that did not exist previously. Nonetheless, lighting needs to be used with discrimination. The costumes and make-up used in Peking Opera are very colorful to begin with, and improper use of colored lights could ruin the effects aimed for. This is something which basi­cally has to be learned through experience.

There is nothing inherently good or bad about the use of modern technology in Peking Opera. It all depends on how it is used. If it enhances the effect in a way that does not conflict with the original content, then it is applicable. If, however, the technology becomes the focus, such as the use of special lighting effects for their inherent beauty or colorfulness, that would be far less appropriate for use in Peking Opera.