Zhang Yi Mo Takes the Stage in Lijiang

For Chinese film buffs, Zhang Yi Mo remains a household name, known as a groundbreaking filmmaker who superceded state control to reveal his vision of China to the world. Daughter No. 1 saw his early work Red Sorghum with her parents at the neighborhood independent film theater sometime in the 1990s. As Chinese landscapes swept across the screen with vivid color, panning across the expressions of his muse Gong Li, the family shared a certain pride; this was the way they imagined the motherland and its people, engaged in acts of beautiful suffering. An incredible cinematographer, Zhang always captured a story where human effort was met with cruelty and disappointment, creating an allegory for Communist China that probably eluded many outside of the country. In addition to his artistic gifts, he was prolific, and also carried the cache of also being “banned” in China, two qualities that fueled his popularity, and cemented his reputation.

A few months ago, the New York Times published an article about the Chinese state film industry’s appropriation of formerly “blacklisted” artists like Zhang, and funding of huge projects, with the hopes of securing an Oscar, along the lines of Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, and also presenting itself a competitor in the global arts market. The Times captured the opinions of critics who felt Zhang had sold out in the process. As he is positioned to be the artistic director of the 2008 Beijing Olympics opening ceremony, an event that would bring his work to the mainstream and beyond, somehow it was implied that Zhang could only be appreciated in obscurity. For many Chinese, it appeared that he had returned to the motherland to carry out important work.

Given this debate, Daughter No. 1 was very excited to see Zhang's work again in his production of Impressions of Lijiang, one of two of his productions staged outdoors in China over the past four years. Impressions promised to be a spectacle, set against the majestic Jade Dragon Snow Mountain (Yu Long Xue) featuring a cast 600 actors from 10 different "dark skinned" minority groups of Yunnan Province. The audience was seated in the pouring rain, each given a head-to-toe poncho and a little cushion. In the tradition of Greek theater, the audience waited with anticipation in the open air, facing the immense set: towering cliff of red earth, book-ended by two flat-screen televisions for subtitles.

Although the plot was nonexistent, and the choreography repetitive, the production was still awe-inspiring, a visual feast created by Zhang and his assistant artistic directors, Wang Chaoge and Fan Yue. The cast moved in waves across the set, chanting, marching, riding, and fighting. There were no starring roles, and everyone performed as a part of the corps. In effect, with 600 people moving in synchronicity and with that level of passion, they became a landscape onto themselves. The show even had horses! They galloped across the highest platform on the stage, representing an important trade route of thousands of miles of high altitude trails (dubbed the 2nd Silk Road) connecting Lijiang to Tibet’s interior. Through the whole performance, the rain fell, soaking the cast. From the union perspective, the entire production was a breach of code. After all, how much could any of these actors be paid? From the cynic’s perspective, the production presented a saccharine and dishonest version of Chinese multiculturalism, where ethnic minorities practiced their religions and cultures with freedom and happiness, all the while being absorbed into a greater whole of nationhood.


Impressions' conclusion was most fascinating. The entire cast stood out on the stage, facing the audience. Performers shouted their place of heritage and ethnic group, and declared that they deserved recognition and respect. In a chorus, the audience spontaneously offered their affirmation. Then everyone was led into a sort of yogic Sun Salutation, as it was explained, the Mountain was a site of great spiritual significance for the Naxi people. Suddenly Daughter No. 1 found herself among hundreds of people all obediently engaged in an act of calisthenics, hope and worship. Wasn't group qigong banned, she wondered. After all, the leader of the contraversial FalunGong (also known for impressive staged works) was in exile in America.


The desire on the part of the audience to make a spiritual connection, believe in something greater, and identify with the existence of marginalized people affected Daughter No. 1 on a visceral level, and she was moved. She loved the theater and had never been engaged in such an explicit act of transgression. The division between art, religion, politics and community were indistinguishable. Was this the sacred or the profane? She could not tell. As they exited, the audience followed a tunnel of straw and lights up a hill, where they were able to meet the cast and offer their own wishes for the future to an unnamed superior being by casting paper into a boiling cauldron. Impressions was state theater at its best, and it seemed, in its given moment, unmatched by anything else in the world. According to china.org.cn, the production has grossed over 12.5 million (US), and with daily productions, that number will obviously multiply until its closing. Madame Mao would be proud.