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China {FRONT}
P ollution. Ai Wei Wei. Lamborghinis. The Olympics. A toxic baby milk scandal. A horrible high speed train crash that has left 40 people dead and a nation questioning safety versus rapid industrialisation. And that, for most of us, is the sum of our knowledge of the People’s Republic of China, population 1.3 billion. This vast landmass – 3.7 million square miles – ruled by the Communist Party of China will soon overtake the debt-crippled US in terms of economic prowess. Yet most of us know more about The Only Way is Essex than we do about the coming superpower of the 21st century.
Enter a raft of shows and events throughout Edinburgh this August, showing the diversity of work being produced and giving some insight into life as it is lived in China today. ‘There is a gap of understanding in both directions,’ says Alison Friedman, an American who runs Pingpong Productions in Beijing. ‘People question why I need to bring work from China, which has a Starbucks on every corner, every product you could ever want to buy and Hollywood films, to the west. But that’s a consumer culture. And the news is all about economics and politics. It’s not about individuals and the spirits of the people.’
That sense of individualism and personality is exactly what lies within the pages of a novel, or in the script of a play. Bi Feiyu, talking at the Edinburgh International Book Festival about his Man Asian literary prize-winning Three Sisters, illuminates the horrors of the cultural revolution and its aftermath more clearly than any documentary. Chairman Mao’s ten-year purge of everything beautiful, spiritual, historical and meaningful, from 1966-76, still echoes through the capitalist din. Feiyu’s father was in the thick of it and, for his son, ‘Politics was not just something I read about, it was something I saw written on the face of my father.’ Dancers and musicians are rediscovering the traditions that even the Maoist machine failed to destroy, and mixing them up with other
But, Friedman says, these stately productions are no longer the only shows in town. ‘Ten years ago, the concept of freelancers didn’t exist. Now there is a growing population of them. We even have a word for them, “bei piaio”. It means “northern floater”. There’s a market for that now, more projects, more opportunities.’ Outside the state sector, China is a creative frontier town. For another American, Rosita Jankabash, this throws up opportunities that she could only dream of at home in LA. Her company, Shanghai Repertory Theatre, is at the Fringe for the first time. She is producing the show, Drift, as well as appearing in it. She is 26. ‘I’m running my own theatre company. Being here in Edinburgh is surreal. I feel that I’m playing with the big dogs. If I’d stayed in the US, I’d be getting the coffee.’
Jankabash’s company is made up of international ex-pats, their performances so far have been in English and French and their home audience is made up of 90 per cent foreigners plus locals whose language skills are up to tackling the works of Shakespeare and Eugène Ionesco. She started SRT to provide an alternative to the monolithic touring shows – ‘Mamma Mia, The Lion King five years late – we just got Cats last year’. Two years ago they were the first indie in Shanghai, although others have since joined them. ‘There are very few artistic professionals, we are all very close and collaborate. In the US, everyone chases the money. In Shanghai, basic living costs are less and you can do things purely for love. It means we are working like crazy people, but we are paying our dues.’
She wanted to bring a show to Edinburgh that represented the company and was set in the China that she lives in. Drift, by Chinese playwright Nick Yu, looks at the whirlwind of industrialisation and the impact living at 100mph has on a city’s inhabitants. ‘It shows a bit about modern China as it is.’
ower Trip A large numbers of creatives are journeying from China to Edinburgh this festival. Can their output tell us any more about the mysterious superpower? Anna Burnside speaks to a range of theatremakers and authors about their experience of working under the Chinese regime
influences. At the International Festival, the European premiere of the National Ballet of China’s The Peony Pavilion shows what happens when a traditional western-shaped corps de ballet brings in elements of traditional dance to tell a quintessentially Chinese story, written by 16th century master Tang Xianzu. The symphony orchestra – with additional Chinese instruments – plays an original score by a Chinese composer that references Debussy, Holst and Prokofiev. According to Friedman, these traditional state-funded companies are still the mainstays of the high arts, now producing ambitious work on a scale that is out of the new generation of independents’ reach. The Peony Pavillion and another EIF show, Shanghai Peking Opera Troupe’s The Revenge of Prince Zi Dan – a lavish martial arts-laden reworking of Hamlet – are sponsored by the Ministry of Culture.
Like much contemporary theatre Drift is not overtly political and Jankabash is nervous of speaking out about the regime that issues the licences for all public performances. During the Olympics, she said, ‘we were very conscious that the government was keeping order, it did infiltrate into what we do. When the World Expo was in Shanghai last year, we could tell there was more of a police presence. But on a day- to-day basis, I would say it doesn’t directly affect us.’ Even Alison Friedman, who has been in China for longer, has not come across many companies making overtly political work. She puts this down to self-censorship but also a lack of engagement. ‘The current generation are interested in very personal issues, they are not up there attacking the government. They are the products of the one- child family. They are very introspective.’
F E S T I V A L
11–18 Aug 2011 THE LIST 21