白毛女 (THE WHITE-HAIRED GIRL)

Last night I was treated to a viewing of the revolutionary opera “The White-Haired Girl” performed at the Great Hall of the People, which, if you were paying attention, is where our telegenic presidente Ao-Ba-Ma was just the day before.

The theater is in the Great Hall of the People, built in the 50s in the Soviet style, so there ain’t no luxury boxes, but because it is in the Great Hall of the People, there’s plenty of flash-photography, loud arguments over seats, sleeping, and people answering their phones (a guy 3 seats down from me thoughtfully put his head under his little desk to take a call that lasted a WHOLE scene). My companion helpfully explained to me that these were people of "low quality" (素质低), a disconcertingly common remark among middle-class Beijingers.

白毛女 was one of the 8 model plays, the most famous of the few operas and ballets permitted during the 10 years of the Cultural Revolution by Chairman Mao's unpopular 4th wife, Jiang Qing. It tells the story of a young country girl who, after losing her father and her maidenhood to an evil landlord, flees into the woods, turning feral and white-haired.

The stylistic inspiration for her transformation appeared to be the hit musical "Mamma Mia".

After a few years of living in the wild, terrifying the nearby villagers who think her a ghost, her true identity is discovered by the 8^th Route Army (the early CCP), and, after years of therapy, she once again becomes a human being. Don’t worry, she gets to keep the pretty hair.

At the climax of the tearful reunion scene, the red sun, which represents Mao Zedong in high-socialist era imagery, entered from stage right. There was applause, but it seemed cursory. I suspect the effect was dimmed a bit by the fact that due to a technical mishap the sun made its first appearance during the father's suicide scene in the first act, prompting a ripple of laughter across the theater.

In the final scene, the white-haired girl and her whole village are led in a struggle session against the landlord and his crony. It was satisfying, even if it did hit a little close to home. [I know you're not like that mom].

白毛女 from Le Kougre on Vimeo.

At curtain call, the main actors tossed their bouquets into the audience, causing small scrambles not unlike those seen at wedding receptions. Later, waiting for the subway, I found myself standing next to a middle-aged woman who was posing for a picture, proudly cradling one of the bouquets as the train rushed into the station behind her.

翻身！翻身！