Have You Ever Felt Like Life is a Play?
There are moments that often make us feel that life is like a play, but GuoGuang Opera Company’s latest production, A Tale of Royal Redemption, sees it differently.
Performance: A Tale of Royal Redemption
Genre: Peking opera
Rating: ★★★★☆
In A Tale of Royal Redemption, Li Cunxiao does a split jump before being executed by the capital punishment.
Courtesy of GuoGuang Opera Company
TAIPEI, Taiwan — A warrior is seen suffering in the centre of the stage. Four men are pulling the red silk ribbons tied to his limbs, as if manipulating a puppet. Out of nowhere, another piece of ribbon wraps around his neck. Despite his attempt to escape this entanglement, he fails; after a twist jump, he falls to the ground. This is a simulation of the capital punishment in Chinese history: Wuma Fenshi, or dismembering a body by having five horses pulling the limbs and head.
When the warrior falls down, it’s as if we also see the imaginary horses pulling his head, alongside his arms and legs, as they run towards five different directions. In that split second, the ribbons that once trapped the warrior turn into a metaphor for blood.
This poetic interpretation of a supposed brutal act marks an important milestone in the history Peking opera: it’s the first time that Wuma Fenshi is performed onstage. This poignant scene was the opening scene for GuoGuang Opera Company’s latest production: A Tale of Royal Redemption.
In A Tale of Royal Redemption, Li Cunxiao does a twist jump before his body is to be dismembered by the five imaginary horses
Courtesy of GuoGuang Opera Company
The warrior who’s been sentenced to death is Li Cunxiao (858-894 AD), one of the adoptive sons of the late-Tang warlord Li Keyong (856-908 AD). More commonly referred to as “Thirteen Taibao” (he ranked thirteenth among the sons), Li Cunxiao contributed greatly to his foster father’s mission. But the discord among the brothers led him to be wrongfully convicted of treason. This is what happened in history.
As soon as we see Li Cunxiao’s fall onstage, we’re told that this scene is in fact a play staged by Li Cunxu (885-926 AD), the Crown Prince and biological son of the warlord. Briefly reigned Tang empire between 923 and 926, Li Cunxu is remembered by prosperity as a monarch who was overly indulged in pleasure-seeking.
According to historical accounts, Li Cunxu was a drama-addict. During his reign, he performed onstage under the stage name Li Tienxia, literally “Li’s world”. He treated the actors with undue favour, to the extent that he even appointed some of them to office. Li Cunxu lived a dramatic life, but strangely, he has rarely inspired playwright to tell his stories onstage.
On the other hand, his brother, Li Cunxiao, on the other hand, has become a popular archetype for martial genius in Chinese opera. The most popular being Kun opera’s Ya Guan Lou (雅觀樓) and Peking opera’s Flying Tiger Mountain (飛虎山), which recounts the legacy of Li Cunxiao as the Flying Tiger General.
The brotherly relation between Li Cunxiao and Li Cunxu has never been mentioned in historical accounts, nor told on onstage — until now. A Tale of Royal Redemption rewrites history by letting Li Cunxu witness how his brother’s body was torn apart — a traumatic experience that “eventually led him to his pursuit of an ideal life”, said Wang An-Chi, Artistic Director of GuoGuang Opera Company.
In history, Li Cunxu was only nine years old when his brother was sentenced to death. In A Tale of Royal Redemption, we see how the then-Crown Prince, after witnessing his brother’s death, is unable to speak for seven days. And the first words that come out of his mouth are as follows: “This must be a play! If not, how can the flesh be separated from the bones like this? What a spectacular play!”
The montage of play and reality is a common thread throughout A Tale of Royal Redemption, and the troupe uses play-within-a-play to convey this fine line between these two worlds. In addition to the opening act, Li Cunxu—who’s now become the ruler after the passing of his father—put up seven theatres in celebration of the Lantern Festival.
Each theatre performs a classic repertoire; some of them are inspired by historic events that revolve around the theme of betrayal, including the Xuanwu Gate Incident (a palace coup for the throne of the Tang dynasty when Prince Li Shimin assassinated Crown Prince Li Jiancheng and Prince Li Yuanji); the story of Liu Feng, an adopted son of the warlord Liu Bei who was condemned to death by his foster father — a story that bears similarity with the fate of Li Cunxiao. It’s as if Li Cunxu is looking for an explanation for the death of his beloved brother by staging these plays.
One play performs after another, until we arrive at the seventh theatre whose stage appears to be empty. But is it, really? The very performance that we’re watching—the one that revolves around Li Cunxu and his trusted friend Nien Guang—makes it the seventh show.
In A Tale of Royal Redemption, Nien Guang is played by renowned opera singer Wen Yu-Hang (溫宇航).
Courtesy of GuoGuang Opera Company
Nien Guang is a fictional character invented by the troupe. Upon winning the battle on Shanshui Hill, the then-Crown Prince meets Nien Guang, an actor whose wit and eloquence caught his attention. Out of his love for acting, Li Cunxu invited Nien Gaung to live in the palace with him; Nien Guang happily accepted the invitation, knowing that it is within the palace "where all the drama takes place”, be it the conflicts between father and son, ruler and his subjects, brothers, or consorts.
Like a jester, Nien Guang’s entertaining presence brightens up Li Cunxu’s rather dull life within the palace wall. Li Cunxu would never have thought his unrequited love for acting, alongside the trust he’s placed in Nien Guang, eventually lead to his own death.
In Preface to Biography of the Court Entertainers, Northern-Song historian Ouyang Xiu (1007–1072 AD) conclude the life of Li Cunxu with the following:
“It is only natural that enterprise will make the country prosper, while ease and comfort will court disaster. At the height of his success, Li Cunxu was unrivalled, no doubt. But after he went downhill, it took just dozens of court entertainers to doom him to failure and death, making him a subject of ridicule.” (translation by Wu Zhou)
“Born into the royal family is a suffering,” Li Cunxu exclaimed on the stage. He’s gone above and beyond the call of his royal duty, and achieved the success that his father hasn’t been able to over the past two decades. Yet he’s blamed for losing his empire in three years because of his obsession with drama. Isn’t this an accusation—as unfair as it may be—made through the lens of historian who judged one’s success based on his competency as a ruler?
In the world of Chinese opera, Li Cunxu is known, alongside Emperor Tang Ming Huang (713-756 AD), as the Patron Saint of Chinese opera. In A Tale of Royal Redemption, Li Cunxu, while fulfilling his duty, turns to drama as a consolation of the traumatic event that he had witnessed as a child and, as an escape from the reality that he isn’t yet ready to confront. A Tale of Royal Redemption get the justice that Li Cunxu deserves by exploring digging into his artistic soul, exposing the underlying reason of Li Cunxu’s indulgence in acting.
English speakers should be careful of not to be misled by the opera’s English title; it’s farfetched to think that Li Cunxu is seeking redemption in any way—as its English title seems to suggest—since he had done nothing wrong, nor did he have anything to do with the death of his brother.
The Chinese title for this opera is Youlin Tienzi (優伶天子). Youlin means an entertainer or actor, and is also a homophone for “spirit” (which refers to the spirit of Li Cunxiao). Tienzi, literally “son of the divine”, means the divine ruler. When combined, Youlin Tienzi refers to the dual role of Li Cunxu, who is both a divine ruler and an actor. Even when on the verge of dying, Li Cunxu is seen wanting to hold onto pipa, the Chinese lute, and determined to “play the final act” with his last breath.
For those who are not well versed in Chinese history, A Tale of Royal Redemption could be intimidating as both the characters of Li Cunxiao and Li Cunxu are inspired by historical figures. However, with the opera’s constant reminder of the cliché that “life is like a play” (for Li Cunxu), perhaps it doesn’t really matter whether we could differentiate between what really happened in history and what’s been invented onstage.
Knowing that history could very well be “a set of lies that people have agreed upon,” as pointed out by Napoleon, I’m convinced when Li Cunxu’s jester reassures us that “the moment is real if it moves you”.
GuoGuang Opera Company’s A Tale of Royal Redemption premiered on September 30, 2022 at the National Theatre Hall in Taipei, and runs through October 2, 2022.