英雄街道/This Is It

Again, there is much pleasure to be had in reading <英雄街道>, the 4th instalment of Jozev's (喬靖夫) on-going <武道狂之詩> ("<Sangre y Acero>") series, published last month. While the language in this latest volume is not as finely chiselled as in the past, the author is definitely on the top of his game in the extensive combat sequences that form the backbone of this episode. I doubt if there are any novels out there that would devote almost three-quarters of its pages to such fierce and yet intricate martial arts combats which are so vividly depicted and thrillingly conceived that, at their unbearably tense climaxes, would leave one's heart racing and hands trembling, as I have myself experienced when going through the book. In this aspect, Jozev has no rivals, both past and present.

The events narrated here span just a couple of hours at most, and concern the siege of the fantastically powerful head of Wu Dang (武當), namely, Yao Lian-zhou (姚蓮舟), who has been poisoned at the up-market brothel that housed a renowned Xian (西安) courtesan. The ingenious plot allows a first face to face confrontation between the story's teenage hero, Yan Heng (燕橫), and a much weakened Yao, who, despite his dreadful reputation, displays much consideration and gallantry towards people that he cares. Amidst all that fighting, a few interludes of varying moods prepare the ground for the introduction of new characters and plot twists in future instalments, while the siege itself offers perceptive insights into the operation of crowd psychology, by highlighting the different considerations and motivations of individual members and their interactions during their campaign to subdue Yao. 

Most interestingly, the story shows how a group of people, banded together in the name of an apparently righteous cause, may not all be as noble as they may seem. Some harbour self-seving motives while others are willing to resort to ignoble means to attain their goals. (By contrast, Yao, branded a villain, appears to be infinitely more admirable in comparison - I'm sure this volume will earn him a lot of fans amongst readers.) And when some try to plead for fairer treatment or wish to operate on a more level playing field that doesn't accord with public sentiment, they are immediately villified as being an undercover spy from the opposite camp, with those professing to bear the flag of righteousness manipulating the crowd to move against them in the most cruel and irrational manner.

Of course, such things do not only happen in the world of fiction; they can be seen even in modern-day Hong Kong. In fact, the story reminds me of a much-publized incident earlier this year, where people who'd professed to be staunch supporters of democracy, freedom of expression, liberalism and social justice acted in such a deplorable manner against a perceived enemy that their vicious words and actions went completely contrary to what they claimed to represent. In my eyes, these people are unworthy torch-bearers of those noble ideals. Even if they get what they want, the principles that they espoused are so warped that, instead of leading to a fair, open and tolerant society, they may actually cause even bigger social injustices, tyranny and cultural degeneration, with these fake torch-bearers acting no better than those despots of the past. Thanks to that incident, which has exposed the ugly side of these loathsome hypocrites, I've resolved to have nothing to do with them in future, which mirrors the decision of Yan and his comrades in this novel.

This volume ends on a dramatic cliff-hanger mid-way through the siege. I hope that it won't take too long for Jozev to bring out volume 5.

Though no fan of Michael Jackson, I still find <This Is It> to be highly entertaining and illuminating. Edited from private film footages captured during rehearsals in the US for the scheduled 50 sell-out concerts in London, it shows "The King of Pop" auditioning the dancers, acting in and supervising the creation of lavish film segments specially made for the concerts, as well as participating in various stages of dance, music and stage rehearsals. The superb editing often makes full use of these fascinating footages, creating a colourful collage of rehearsal sequences for the performance of each single number, together with a few extended rehearsal shots showing what must have been rather close to the final products.

Whatever rumours that we have read from the tabloids, Jackson not only looked better than expected during rehearsals, he was also full of energy and enthusiasm, irrespective of whether or not he's heavily dependent on drugs at that stage. He was in full command of his music, and knew instantly the kind of effect, be it musical or visual, that he wanted. Ever polite with members of the crew, he evidently was the source of inspiration for all working on the splendid project, which, had Jackson lived, would certainly have been a magnificent swan song for this remarkable stage performer.

Sacrificium/Forbidden Colours

Bought <Sacrificium>, the new Decca recording by mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli devoted to the music of the Castrati. Recording projects focussing on the art of the Castrati are nothing new - a few singers, including Vivica Genaux and Philippe Jaroussky, have produced admirable recordings based on the esoteric subject. Yet, this fascinating release, featuring operatic arias composed by Porpora, Leo, Araia, Graun, Caldara and Vinci for Farinelli and Caffarelli, contains 11 pieces that have never been recorded before. The sequence of the music on the CD is well considered, with virtuosic rage arias alternating with more reflective numbers of extraordinary beauty and repose. There is also a bonus CD with 3 famous Castrato arias, including Handel's evergreen "Ombra mai fu". As in Bartoli's last few recordings, the CD is designed in the form of a lavish booklet. This time, besides the usual articles on the music performed, there is compendium that serves as a dictionary concerning the Castrati and their times. The worst thing about this CD is probably its cover, where Bartoli's head is clumsily photoshopped onto an ancient reclining statue of a nude male, whose genitals have been lost to the ravages of time.

Bartoli's performance here is better than that on her last CD devoted to Maria Malibran, which is marred by too much crooning on soft passages. Here, the tone is fully supported even when it is shaded down to a thread. The florid runs are also less-aspirated, though still overly breathy at phrase ends. Probably the music is so inhumanly virtuosic that there isn't any time for aspirates. Indeed, such is the difficulty of the music that even Bartoli barely made it at times, resulting in some uneven trills and slight intonation problems, which further attests to the astounding technique commanded by the star Castrati in the early 18th Century. That said, the singing is always highly committed and colourfully inflected, and the diva is accompanied with great verve by the Italian period group, Il Giardino Armonico, led by Giovanni Antonini.

From a historical perspective, it is unfortunate that no recording of any notable Castrati in his prime exists. (The recordings of Moreschi, who once served in the Papal Choir, were very bad, almost like vocal caricatures, made in the first decade of the 20th Century when the singer was well past his prime.) We don't really know how they sound. The title of the CD denotes the "sacrifice" made by tens of thousands of boys in the past for the sake of music. The truth is, however, much more mundane and self-serving - boys were sent to be castrated by parents and guardians in order to expedite their vocal training (so that they needn't wait until after puberty) and in the hope that they would make lucrative careers in music. Most, of course, failed, leaving behind lives both physically and psychologically maimed. Looking at the surgical equipment used for castration in the CD booklet, which can send a shudder through the hearts of any guy, one can't help wondering how such an appalling practice could be tolerated for as long as 300 years.

I have always found the plot of Yukio Mishima's novel, <Forbidden Colours>, whose English translation I recently re-read, to be quite incredible and even mildly distasteful. An elderly author, embittered by several failed marriages and amorous affairs, enlists (through a monetary bribe) the help of a handsome gay college student to exact revenge upon womankind. The gay guy, having got married with the money but without too much of a conscience, becomes aware of his powers over both men and women and begins to take things in his own hands. His clandestine second life is finally exposed to his unsuspecting family, whereas he seeks and obtains the help of an aristocratic lady whom he has previously betrayed and with whose husband he has had an affair. When the youth finally wishes to dissolve the unholy alliance with the author, the latter has had a final trick on his sleeve, which puts the young man forever in his debt and under the shadow of his platonic love.

Maybe it's owing to the unconvincing plot, as well as the immorality and gay sex involved, that, as far as I'm aware, the novel has never been adapted to the screen. In a way, I do wish to see a film based on this novel, as I'm amused to see which Japanese actor today can do the role of Yuichi, who is not only extraordinarily good-looking, but also, according to his self-serving patron, exhibits a body whose beauty surpasses that of an ancient Greek statue. But I suppose any adaptation can never do justice to the novel, which, in truth, is a philosophical treatise on creativity, beauty, seduction, hypocrisy and spiritual love; the plot itself is, as I see it, merely a tool for Mishima to develop these ideas, wrapped up in the distinctive homoerotic aura that is unique to his fictional output.

Romeo & Juliet

The last time I saw <Romeo & Juliet> given by the HK Ballet was in 1999. It was the minimalist staging by Bengt Jorgen, with Faye Leung, then a junior soloist, taking on Juliet and the HK Sinfonietta tearing Prokofiev's glorious score to shreds with their utterly deplorable performance. The Sinfonietta was again serving in the pit at the Cultural Centre Grand Theatre for the same music over the past 2 weekends, and although there had been significant improvements, the challenging score was still not entirely within its grasp. But then, unlike the previous occasion, it wasn't so bad as to have hindered my enjoyment of last Saturday's matinee.

There couldn't have been a greater contrast between that previous production and the present one by Rudi van Dantzig, which is as scenically lavish and evocative as could be. It boasts an exceptionally clear narrative and is full of psychological insights, which lead to characters that are much better drawn than in other stagings. The bustling street scenes are full of interesting and naturalistic details (and replete with a host of side characters) and the sword fights are exhilarating. It is also an unremittingly bleak interpretation - a mother got accidentally killed in a brawl early on, leaving her child as an orphan, children are taught by the Capulets, clearly the dominating force in Verona, to be belligerent from from a tender age, a giant figure of Death stalks the stage in Act II, and the ghosts of Mercutio and Tybalt appear in Act III, interacting at one point with Juliet when the latter is rushing to Friar Lawrence for assistance, thus presaging the final tragedy.

Some critics are of the view that this version has had its longueurs. Yet,  I'm so fond of the music (this is my favourite ballet score) that I don't mind hearing it in full instead of some heavily truncated version. Besides, the mise-en-scene of this production is dramatically so seamless and powerful that none of the 3 acts seems to have overstayed its welcome. And while it is true that the choreography of the several pas de deux between the star-crossed lovers aren't on the level of the more familiar designs by Cranko and Macmillan, and that van Dantzig sometimes doesn't take the cue from the music for an enhanced physical and emotional response in the choreography, his efforts are already good enough when the entire ballet is assessed as a whole.

Given that all the female house principals have been side-lined by injuries (presumably a case of bad karma in connection with the outrageous sacking of Faye Leung earlier in the year), a junior cast (one of three assembled for this run of 8 shows) took on the challenge that afternoon, with debuts by soloist Wei Wei (who is reported to be a dashing Tybalt when the production was newly introduced to the company's repertoire in 2007) and coryphee Liu Yu-yao in the demanding title roles. Liu's Juliet was technically very assured and she evidently gave her all, although some of the dancing lacked grace and was therefore more mechnical than lyrical. Wei's Romeo was almost perfect - besides having the physique du role (he's good-looking, tall but a bit lanky), he was technically precise, evinced much joy in the dancing and was a good partner. He already owned the part in this first attempt. By contrast, Yo Takahira's Mercutio was competent but lacking a little in stature and flair, while William Lin's Tybalt was technically inconsistent and was thus not adequate for this ferocious and flamboyant character. All the comprimario parts were well-taken, and the entire company rose to the challenge of this complex staging and gave a respectable, and often riveting, performance.

At the end, not only did I find the performance to be very enjoyable, I realised that I could still be moved by this familiar tale. Quite a good feeling, I suppose.

大江大海 1949

History, written mostly by the victors and therefore viewed from their selected perspectives, can be full of prejudices, omissions and distortions. The voices of those vanquished are hardly heard in full, let alone the plight of those common soldiers who fought for the losing side. And if the losers happened to be the initial aggressors, or that they owed their allegiance to a regime commonly regarded, or subsequently portrayed, as being corrupt, their sufferings and inhumane treatment at the bitter end would hardly merit a mention in the offical version of events, as the latter tends to focus only on the atrocities that they and their forebears have committed.

On the other hand, heinous crimes committed by those who subsequently emerged as victors are often glossed over or white-washed, and the pain inflicted upon the innocent, or even those amidst their own ranks, may be swept under the carpet to make way for the over-riding need of political propaganda. Whereas the Rape of Naking and the Siege of Leningrad are well known and have become subject matters for countless books and films, not even a footnote remains on similar blood-baths perpetrated during the course of a catastrophic civil war. The glorious image of soldiers and their noble actions as portrayed in official propaganda may have little resemblance to the appalling truth as told by witnesses. 

Amidst the upheavals, where even former war heroes died an ignominious death and whose past contributions were expunged from official records, the tragedy of the ordinary man is completely forgotten. Have you thought of how those millions of young soldiers were drafted into the army in the first place, and the sort of horror and personal privations that awaited them? How come some ended up on the wrong side of the Strait (and then subject to further injustices), and that others found themselves inside a Vietnam refugee camp or the packed tenements in Hong Kong's Rennie's Mill (Tiu Keng Leng)? What were the experiences (and war responsibilities) of those Taiwanese who were sent by their colonial overlords to oversee the notorious prisoner-of-war camps in South-East Asia and those of the multi-national inmates under their supervision?

These people, now in their 70s and 80s, are the final repositories of the memories of those epic times, when a decision, made in confusion on the spur of the moment, could change one's destiny completely. Yet, their children and grandchildren, living in comparative wealth and peace, hardly care to learn about their stories, despite the fact that such stories form part of their own family history, which will become buried forever with these elderly folks when they embark upon their final journey from the mortal world. Who, then, will speak for them as well as the pain that they've carried for 60 years?

These are some of the historical and personal injustices that eminent essayist and cultural commentator Lung Ying-tai (龍應台) seeks to illustrate and redress in her remarkable new book, <大江大海 1949>, which has deservedly remained on the top of the sales chart ever since its publication last month. Lung, born in Taiwan after her parents fled Mainland China near the close of the Civil War, starts by recounting the experiences of her mother during her nerve-wracking journey out of the Mainland. Through many interviews, she then reveals the plight of the Chinese during WWII and until the end of the Civil War, when the Kuomintang government decamped to Taiwan, which then caused a social rift with ethnic Taiwanese (who'd lived under Japanese colonial rule for 5 decades), the repercussions of which are still resounding up to this day. In the course of her narrative, Lung also touches upon the experiences of some Japanese, American, Australian and German soldiers, the latter being of personal relevance to Lung, who has married a German.

Instead of taking the easier path of having separate and self-contained eye-witness accounts, Lung designed a complex narrative that jumps back and forth in both time and locations, with scenes of reminiscences juxtaposed with Lung's investigative journeys to some of the places mentioned by her interviewees. Yet, each episode, no matter how brief, is closely linked to other sections, sometimes by reason of dates, sometimes by reference to location or army division, and sometimes on the premise of a shared experience, so that the entire saga is multi-angled, full of contrasts and yet cogent and revelatory.

The narrative is purportedly addressed to Philip, Lung's 19 year old younger son, who, like many readers, know very little about that history. Lung's tone is understanding, non-judgemental and never overly emotive, for an excess of emotion is unnecessary for such plaintive accounts - for who wouldn't be moved by the poignant tale of teenage peasants kidnapped by the army and, without being able to bid a proper farewell to his parents, thrusted onto the battlefield and, for those who managed to survive, destined never to see their families and homeland again?

My only quibble about the book, which is illustrated with photos and drawings provided by interviewees, is that it is too short and overly condensed. As Lung herself admits in the epiloque, to serve the period justice, she would have required 1.5 million words. Yet, the present book, at 420 pages, is about a tenth of such length, and one sometimes yearns for a more extensive treatment or an even larger number of testimonies. Yet, because of its conciseness, the text is highly informative and endlessly fasincating. Indeed every sentence counts, as each contains a forgotten piece of history, freshly mined from the hearts and souls of some elderly men and women who've suffered a cruel battering by fate and history, rendering this a valuable book that deserves to be read as widely as possible.

The Count of Monte Cristo/(500) Days of Summer

There was a time during my primary school days when I (as well as many of my classmates) was pretty fascinated by <The Count of Monte Cristo>, the story of a young sailor, betrayed and falsely accused by his rivals, arrested on his wedding day and imprisoned for 14 years in the dungeons of a prison island before making a miraculously escape and laying his hands on a lost horde of treasure, which enables him to style himself a count and mete out punishment for those who've wronged him.

That was the time when we had an abridged version of the story for our English "Reading" classes, although, looking back, I doubt if such a vicious tale of vengeance could make proper learning material for a Christian primary school that preached about forgiveness. It coincided with TVB's serialisation of the novel, starring Adam Cheng (鄭少秋) and Gigi Wong (黃淑儀), with the setting transposed from post-Napoleonic France to southern China before WWII. It wasn't a hit at the time, but I found Cheng to be perfect for the calculating and chameleon-like protagonist. This is also one of the few local TV dramas that don't have a theme song - an ominous 4-note motive (C-A flat-G-F) announced it, which accorded well with the mood of the drama as well as its straight-forward but weighty Chinese title - <大報復>.

Incidentally, we also had a dramatisation of a certain scene from the novel for our "Reading" classes during my early secondary school days (which shows how popular the novel once was with publishers and educators). I bought an English translation of the original around that time. However, I'm not sure if I actually read through all those 1,100 pages. Digging up the book recently, I found some of the scenes vaguely familiar. Are these the residue memories of a previous reading, or the impression gained from that TVB drama, which might in parts be fairly faithful to the original? (For example, the scene in which Wong confronts Cheng and pleads for her son's life is, as far as I can recall, modelled closely on the corresponding chapter of the book.)

A friend once said that he couldn't stand this tale, and thus didn't finish it, as he couldn't understand how a person could go to such lengths in planning a revenge. I suppose different people may hold different views as to whether the Count's actions can be justified or not. Personally, I think the downfall of those "villains" are mostly caused by their own avarice, vices and crimes, and that the Count is merely exposing them to the public's view. Had my friend gone through the entire book, he would have understood Dumas's intention - that the Count, gripped by a monomania to pursue his elaborate plan of revenge, does, in the end, cause justice to be done and overdone, whereupon he finds himself (as well as a few innocent parties) a victim of his hatred and obsession, and finally resigns to an agent greater than himself (who has earlier sought to play God) and indeed any human agency.

I don't consider the novel to be a very profound piece of literature. Nor is it a perceptive reflection of life and humanity in its many forms. (Dumas is, after all, not Balzac.) The Count is, in any event, too omniscient and omnipotent to be a very realistic creation, and the melodramatic plot depends as much on the Count's laborious designs as on a string of startling coincidences. Yet, in terms of sheer gusto in the narrative as well as the richness of the story, this surely is one of the most thrilling and readable novels ever created. Encountering it again after so many years, I still find it immensely enjoyable.

But for Marc Webb's refreshing direction, <(500) Days of Summer>, which centres upon a rather mundane and uneventful love affair, wouldn't have been the delightful romantic comedy that it is. Many have commented on the narrative, which jumps back and forth in time. However, as I see it, the affair is, by and large, chronologically narrated, whereas the shifting of the time frame serves to provide a contrast of emotions and experiences in the corresponding episodes at different stages of the affair, and to highlight what actually is missing from the relationship. Quite an original take on a cliched topic that illustrates the futility of love when the basic attitudes of the couple towards love are fundamentally different.

The film, which is full of small humorous touches, sags a little towards the end, when the affair is drawing to a close. Fortunately, the whole thing lasts for just 95 minutes, which prevents the audience from getting bored with the flimsy dramatic substance. And there's a good ending that warms the heart. As the couple, both Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel are excellent, with Gordon-Levitt carrying the drama really well, in particular as the story is seen from the perspective of his character. The breezy soundtrack is nice, and adds much to the overall mood. In short, not a very deep movie, but enjoyable nevertheless.