Farewell to
My Concubine
by Lilian Lee
Surrounded by the Han army, Xiang Yu’s soldiers were
few and his supplies exhausted. With him were the beautiful Lady
Yu, who followed wherever he went, and his favorite steed. ‘My might shadowed
the world,’ he said, ‘but the times were against me and my horse runs no more.
What more can I do? Ah, Yu, my Yu, what will your fate be?’
(Adapted from Basic Annals
of Xiang Yu)
This story of the fallen
general in the wars to unite China in the second century BCE is the basis of
Lilian Lee’s 1992 historic novel, Farewell
to My Concubine, the most recent of centuries of retelling the story of
tragic heroism and love.
image: wikimedia commons |
In the classical tradition
of Chinese opera, all roles are played by men. By a twist of fate, gentle and
handsome Cheng Dieyi becomes cast as a dan,
a female lead, while his combative classmate in their opera school, Duan
Xiaolou, is cast as a sheng, a male
lead. Rising to fame, they become most noted for the parts of Lady Yu Ji and
her lover Xiang Yu in the opera, Farewell
to My Concubine.
It was a role Dieyi would
take to heart. Except that in this version, the beauty has a rival for the
warrior’s love—an equally beautiful, and unambiguously female rival. For much
as Dieyi adores his friend, Xiaolou feelings for him are only those of a
brother. When his heart turns to love, Xiaolou only has eyes for the courtesan
known as Juxian—Chrysanthemum.
The two actors met as
children in opera school in 1929, two decades after the overthrow of China’s last
emperor and the establishment of the Republic of China. During their 10-year
apprenticeship, their China, like that of Xiang Yu, has been torn by wars
between rival factions. Now on their own in 1939, they take the stage as world
war looms. With China occupied by Japanese troops, the young actors are faced
with the choice of performing for their enemies or resisting them.
One day, “just as the
opera reached its most beautiful and moving point,” Lee writes, “a group of
Japanese soldiers filed into the theater.” As ushers hurry to empty seats for
these escorts of Japanese Marshal Aoki), Xiaolou stops singing. As if enacting
his heroic part in real life, he jumps into the audience, fists swinging,
shouting “‘The show’s over! This damn theater is full of devils!’”
But once offstage, his
immunity from reality vanishes. There will be no graceful exit, no delighted applause, no rapturous fans at the conclusion of this scene.
(For the summary of Xiang
Yu and Lady Yu, I am indebted to Jannis Jizhou Chen’s essay, “The Forgotten
Themes of Farewell My Concubine – A Comparative Analysis between the Novel and
the Film,” available at www.academia.edu/9803820/.
The illustration for this post is of a late 18th century emperor in
ceremonial armor. Next Friday, Adventure classics continues the discussion of
Lilian Lee’s Farewell to My Concubine.)
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