Beijing Opera

The sign in our hotel lobby touted the glories of the Beijing Opera. Not to be missed! A spectacle beyond belief! Now playing, right here!

I looked up the Beijing Opera in Dad’s Lonely Planet. Sure enough, it was a highly recommended attraction. There were three places to see the Opera in Beijing, two locales were traditional Opera houses, the theatre at our hotel was listed as a “sterile option.” I tried to find the other opera houses on the map. They weren’t there. I checked another map. Still couldn’t find them. I reported my research to my parents; we decided to take the “sterile” option, since we most definitely could find our way there and back.

It was indeed sterile. A theater that lacked charm, lacked any sense of design that was so evident everywhere else in China. Three platforms of “tea service” seating, tables with hard back chairs and a pot of tea in the center of the table. Behind the “tea service” section were rows upon rows of theater seating, reminiscent of a high school auditorium. We settled into our hard back chairs as comfortably as possible and the house lights dimmed. From a parting in the heavier than life blood red velvet curtains came a tall Chinese gentleman, as stiff as the chairs we were sitting in. In the most unusually accented English, he welcomed us to the Beijing Opera. He explained how in this form of opera movements were minimized, simplicity ruled. Therefore, an actor holding a horse whip was riding a horse, even though the horse wasn’t there. This seemed fairly obvious, but an explanation is always appreciated. If an actor walked around the stage, this symbolized traveling a great distance, across town, across a country, across the world. The erect Chinese gentleman bid us a good time, and with that, the first story began.

The first actor came out, garbed in the most fantastic, most elaborate costume. Yards and yards of silk surrounded him of the richest, deepest black. Swaths of white belted him, cradled his sword. Embroidery, mostly in gold, mostly of unreal animals, covered his tunic. We watched him dance, twirl, flip, retreat, and sing a little. By the end of the performance, two other actors had joined him, faces covered in white powder, eyes rimmed in black kohl, then surrounded by a deep red which seemed to personify evil. As far as I could tell, this was the story:

A general in the Chinese army was exiled (don’t know why). One of his subordinates wanted to take the rap for him. His subordinate dresses up as the general, then sets out to find the general. He stops at an inn, where the real general is staying, but dressed as someone else. The Innkeeper is really the real general’s bodyguard. During the night, the Innkeeper/bodyguard sneaks into the general/subordinate’s room, to execute him (because he’s obviously an imposter). They fight in the darkness for a very long time. The real general enters with a candle, recognizes both men, conducts introductions, and everyone laughs. Hahahahahahaha.

The second story was even more confusing. A nymph meets a scholar. She is smitten. She sends a message to him, via one of her nymphs in waiting, that they are congenial and will be married. With this message she sends a pearl as a symbol of her everlasting love. All the people in heaven got angry, because evidently a union between a nymph and a mortal is against the rules. Someone from heaven sent an army to stop this union, and possibly kill the nymph. Or at least teach her a lesson. Little did they know. This nymph kicked ass. She single handedly defended herself from a huge army of spear holding, flag waving heavenly soldiers. She gracefully deflected spears aimed at her, kicking some with her dainty, bound toes, twirling, deflecting others with her own spear, knock, knock, pirouetting, laughing the entire time. Bottom line – she defeated heaven’s army, she married the scholar, she got what she wanted.

And that was the end. I was sad. I wanted to see more of the out of this world color combinations. I wanted to see more of the jumping over each other, acrobating over tables, leaping over flying flags. I wanted to be scared by the intricate, overly done make up, reminding me of spirits only present before in my nightmares. Alas, the house lights shone, the people exited. The night was done.