Rewriting History: The Loser of Legend
Inspired by a historic event in colonial Taiwan, The Loser of Legend is an epic of common people who, though labeled as the defeated by history, still have their stories waiting to be told.
Sense of Wander: ★★★★★
This summer, Golden Bough Theatre premiered The Loser of Legend, a play inspired by 20th-century historical events that explores the legacy of Taiwan’s ancestors.
TAIPEI, Taiwan — In 1915, under Japanese rule, Taiwan witnessed one of its most significant uprisings — the Tapani Incident, also known as the Xilai Temple Incident, named after the temple where the revolt began.
What makes the Xilai Temple Incident stand out from other uprisings in Taiwan’s history is its infusion of folk religion, which allowed its leader, Yu Qing-Fang, to mobilise a substantial grassroots army that called for the expulsion of the colonial government.
Before Japanese occupation, Taiwan boasted thousands of self-operated sugar mills and independent camphor traders. During the colonial period, however, the Japanese monopolised all sugarcane production and claimed forested lands as state property, fueling widespread resentment. This eventually led to an uprising among the farmers who, accustomed to practicing martial arts like the Song Jiang Battle Ritual and lion dancing, saw rebellion as a way to reclaim their land.
The uprising resulted in the arrest of over 1,900 people, with more than 800 individuals sentenced to death. The harsh verdict provoked severe criticism from both the Japanese public and parliament. Consequently, after executing 95 individuals, the remaining sentences were commuted to life imprisonment.
Inspired by this historic event, Wang Rong-Yu, Founder and Artistic Director of the Golden Bough Theatre, created the play The Loser of Legend (titled Xilai Temple in Chinese). The idea, which took root 30 years ago, took a decade to blossom into the final play, premiering at the Taipei Performing Arts Centre this summer.
The blind storyteller transitions between historical and modern times onstage, guiding the audience by setting the context for the play.
I’m deeply moved within the first minute of the play, as Wang Jun-Jie, an acclaimed Taiwanese singer, steps into the role of the storyteller. With a moon lute (yueqin) in hand, he narrates the story in Taiwanese dialect, setting the stage with poignant words: “Victory and defeat are but a matter of pride; the eternal green mountains stand as witnesses.”
The storyteller weaves in and out of history and modern times onstage, guiding us through a legendary uprising that many contemporary audiences have forgotten. In one scene, two youngsters visit the historic site of Xilai Temple in Tainan city, dismissing the uprising as mere superstition. Such skepticism stems from Yu Qing-Fang’s controversial methods for rallying the masses, including claims that talismans could make people invincible to weapons. As a result, he has been labeled a “charlatan” or “bandit” by later generations.
Lo Tsun, disguised as a blind fortune teller on the right, encounters Yu Qing-Fang.
Lo Tsun eventually reveals his true identity to Yu Qing-Fang and goes on to become a pivotal figure in the Xilai Temple Incident.
On stage, two dozen actors embody the thousands of farmers involved in this historic uprising. I’m particularly moved by the courage and fearlessness of the key figures — U Tshing-Hong, Lo Tsun, and Gong Tin — and the steadfast loyalty of their followers who bravely defend their land.
Among them is the bond between the two brothers, Tan Tshun-Bing and Tan Tshun-Lai. Tshun-Bing has chosen to work as a petrol officer for the colonial government, believing it would offer a better life, whereas Tshun-Lai joins the uprising with his fellow villagers. Their different paths culminate in a heart-wrenching scene, where we see Tshun-Bing holding his dying brother in his arms. This powerful moment highlights the personal struggles of ordinary people within the broader scope of history, both on and off stage.
In the face of colonial oppression and exploitation, each individual has their own choices to make, and their dreams to pursue. The Loser of the Legend shines a light on these different experiences, weaving a compelling narrative that encompasses both grand historical events and the intimate lives of everyday people.
The brotherly bond between Tan Tshun-Bing and Tan Tshun-Lai highlights the divergent paths taken by ordinary individuals amidst grand historical events.
It’s interesting how the playwright uses a Japanese officer’s bewildered comment to highlight the power dynamics of colonisation: “We gave them education, but look at what they did to us.” This line encapsulates the disconnect between the colonisers and the colonised, as well as the former’s failure to grasp the latter’s struggles.
Even before the play reaches its end, history has already shown us the uprising’s inevitable failure. Similarly, the actors and actresses on stage, fully aware of the futility of their efforts, pour their sweat and blood into a battle they know they cannot win. But as an audience, it’s not the unfavourable outcome that matters, but the journey itself — witnessing the farmers’ struggle and determination to stand against their oppressors.
In the final scene, a man waves a red flag at the back of the group, reminiscent of Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People. This poignant image symbolises the sacrifice of those who gave their lives in the pursuit of a better future.
Even in the face of defeat, the final scene of The Loser of Legend unites people in a moment of hope and perseverance.
While the title The Loser of Legend suggests a focus on defeat, it ironically challenges our understanding of “loser” and “failure.” Does failure always mean a mistake, or can it also serve as a stepping stone for future learning and growth?
Director Wang Rong-Yu sheds light on this perspective: “Yu Qing-Fang’s Xilai Temple Incident significantly influenced later figures like Chiang Wei-Shui and Lin Hsien-Tang. They realised that armed resistance against the Japanese was impractical, leading to the establishment of the Taiwan Cultural Association.” Wang poses the question, “So, did they really fail?”
Modern Taiwanese history views the Xilai Temple Incident as a nationalist uprising, while Japanese accounts frame it as a large-scale banditry led by criminals. In contrast, The Loser of Legend portrays the event as an epic saga of people from that era, reminding us how our forebearers’ sacrifice, despite their defeat, helped shape the land we live on today.
Watching the also play prompted me to think about the countless untold rebellions against oppression and rebellion happening every day. What other narratives, overlooked by mainstream history, remain to be discovered?
The Loser of Legend represents a new breed of Taiwanese opera born from Wang Rong-Yu’s creative vision. For over thirty years, the use of Taiwanese dialect in musical theatre has been a hallmark of the Golden Bough Theatre, , blending traditional elements with modern sensibilities. Though I find the dialect challenging at times, it undeniably adds to the immersive and enriching experience of the play.
I had initially bought a ticket for The Loser of Legend when it was set to premiere in 2022, only for it to be canceled the day before due to a lead actor’s COVID diagnosis. Two years later, I’m delighted to finally see the play. Though the historical event it depicts occurred over a century ago, it resonates deeply with contemporary Taiwanese audiences, urging us to reexamine our status quo and strive towards a unified goal when needed.
Reference:
Chang, C. (2023). 同島一命 金枝演社《西來庵》再現生猛、草根、爆發力 [Shared Fate: Golden Bough Theatre’s The Loser of Legend revisits raw, grassroots, explosive energy]. Performing Arts Review. https://par.npac-ntch.org/tw/article/doc/GXBCY8KVRS
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Golden Bough Theatre staged The Loser of Legend at the Taipei Performing Arts Centre from Aug 9 to 11, 2024.