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Transforming
Rituals
Chinese
composer Tan Dun conducts his music at
the Oregon Bach Festival.
by Brett Campbell
When the Cultural Revolution arrived at his rural
village in Hunan, Tan Dun was a prime target. The teenager was educated,
after all, and showed artistic inclinations (playing fiddle) and was
therefore an object of suspicion to a paranoid, authoritarian regime.
Besides, he wanted to be a shaman.
Even in the 1970s, ancient Chinese myths still lived
in his isolated village, and when he was a boy, Tan believed that
shamans — who conducted ritual ceremonies — could see
past and future lives. The Communist regime wanted to sweep aside
such "backward thinking." Like so many others, Tan was sent to work
on a commune, planting rice with peasants, his musical and intellectual
explorations stifled by forced "re-education" in Maoist propaganda.
But they couldn't restrain Tan's creative spirit.
He did indeed find inspiration among the peasants — but not
what the government intended. Instead, he collected folk music from
his neighbors, eventually leading musical performances of ritual occasions
such as weddings. Because many musical instruments had been confiscated
as vestiges of the old ways, he was forced to rely upon whatever simple
folk instruments, and even pots and pans, he could scrounge. Meanwhile,
he learned how to play traditional Chinese string instruments.
But Tan seemed fated to spend the rest of his life
in isolation, deprived of the cultural infrastructure that could nurture
his musical gifts. Then his ship came in, albeit in tragic fashion.
The government sponsored tours of Peking opera troupes in each province,
and a ferry full of the players headed for his. Suddenly, the ferry
capsized; many of the musicians drowned. The call went out for nearby
replacements, and Tan was brought back from the countryside to play
fiddle with the provincial troupe.
As the Chinese character for "crisis" combines those
meaning "danger" and "opportunity," the terrible accident on that
river a quarter century ago created an opening for Tan's irrepressible
muse.
Not long after, China's shroud of repression began
to lift. The national music conservatory reopened, and years of pent-up
musical frustration rushed forth as thousands of musicians applied
for the 30 available slots in the entering class. Several of the other
members of that landmark class have since become renowned musicians,
but none have shone as brightly as Tan Dun, who is now regarded as
one of the finest composers under age 50 in the world. His amalgamation
of Chinese folk influences with Western modernism has produced one
of the most compelling musical visions of the 21st century.
Next week, Eugene will have two opportunities to see
and hear Tan and his profound musical theater. On Friday, July 5,
Tan will conduct the American premiere of his acclaimed Water Passion
after St. Matthew. And on Sunday, July 7, he'll conduct the concerto
he arranged from his Academy — and Grammy-award winning score
for the movie Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, plus two of his
intense Orchestral Theater works. Both shows take place at
the Hult Center's Silva Hall.
It may seem odd to hear music so deeply influenced
by Chinese folk rituals at a festival dedicated to the music of the
quintessential European art music composer. But when Tan Dun discovered
European classical music in the conservatory, it shook him to his
soul. First Beethoven, then on to Bartok, and Shostakovich (another
composer who suffered from political oppression).
Then, two especially kindred spirits entered his world.
Influenced by his study of the I Ching and Asian music, the American
composer John Cage also used "found" instruments, as well as silence,
chance, and other unusual techniques to create unique sound universes
that made listeners experience music — and the world —
differently. One composer deeply affected by Cage was Japan's Toru
Takemitsu, who became a mentor to Tan. He also employed silence and
toyed with time in his dramatic, spacious evocations of nature and
other subjects. Both showed Tan Dun how Western and Eastern concepts
could be reconciled in music. His compositions, marked by Chinese
musical and mythical themes, began winning national and then international
awards, which opened a space for other young Chinese composers.
|
A
boat capsizes on a Chinese river.
A
door opens.
Old
masters introduce new worlds.
The
shaman brings ancient visions to life.
Ceramic
bowls float in transparent tanks of water.
Hands
caress and strike them.
|
But the Chinese government condemned Tan for "spiritual
pollution" (i.e. Western influences), prohibiting performances of
his music. Tan left his homeland a few years later, riding the international
reputation of his On Taoism, which earned him a fellowship
at Columbia University in 1986.
New York's expanded musical horizons offered Tan still
more creative influences. He unleashed a flood of compositions during
the 1990s and commissions, performances, recordings and honors followed.
He collaborated with artists such as cellist Yo Yo Ma and stage director
Peter Sellars, and became the youngest ever winner of the world's
most prestigious prize for composers. Tan's work experimented with
atonality, strange timbres and combinations of Western and Chinese
musical forms and instruments and unusual percussion. He began incorporating
elements of Chinese ritual and theater.
And when he composed the soundtrack to Ang Lee's celebrated
film, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (He was involved in the
creative process from the outset.), Tan, like a shaman, helped transform
a mystical vision of old China into a powerful contemporary experience.
The July 7 concert features the six-movement
concerto for cello, percussion, dizi (a traditional Chinese bamboo
flute), and chamber orchestra (including plenty of non-Western instruments)
that Tan arranged from his music for Crouching Tiger. It will
be accompanied by a new film, directed by Ang Lee drawn from images
and outtakes from the movie, plus views of New York and old Beijing.
The concert also features the first two in his series
of Orchestral Theatre works, which transform the ritual of a Chinese
folk celebration into one of our contemporary Western rituals: a classical
music concert. A hallucinatory montage of aural images explodes from
the quiet — water and nature sounds, Tibetan chant, silence,
Chinese poetry — dramatizing a spiritual ceremony in which the
listeners participate, fulfilling Tan's goal of reuniting audience
and performer, as in ritual ceremonies .
The most important new music concert in Oregon this
year is the performance of his Water Passion on July 5. Rippling
with water references from the gospel, this haunting, dramatic sacred
music employs a multicultural melange of influences, including Tibetan
overtone singing, atonal melodies, the water gong (invented by Cage)
and other water percussion, instruments from China and other world
cultures, extended cello techniques and unearthly choruses. Challenging,
intense, and like nothing you've ever heard, it embraces many of the
elements of Tan's life and music — Western and Chinese musical
forms, ritual drama (the central ritual of Western civilization, in
fact), and of course water — which took a boatload of musicians
and opened the door for Tan Dun's success. As Tan stands on the Silva
stage conducting this ancient passion play, he will enact his childhood
dream: The shaman will transform the past into the present.
Passion
Lurks Where
Tigers Crouch
by
Lois Wadsworth
Tan Dun composed music for Ang Lee's 2000 action film
romance, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, that includes lyrical
melodies, plaintive cello solos played by Tan's musical collaborator,
Yo Yo Ma, and percussive elements that accentuate the rhythmic, ritualistic
power of the actors' martial arts movements in the picture's half-dozen
balletic encounters. Lee's mythic vision derived from the movies of
his Hong Kong childhood, popular romances that depicted the China
of fairy tales overlaid with Taoist thought embodied in supernatural
kung fu action. Tan's potent contribution to the film arises out of
his quest for a timeless music with its roots in humanity. You may
catch a free screening of the film at 7:30 pm on June 30 in the Hult
Center's Soreng Theater, compliments of the Oregon Bach Festival.
 |
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Jen
(Zhang Ziyi) pursues the bandit who stole her jade comb, Lo
(Chang Chen).
|
 |
| Wudan
warrior Li Mu Bai (Chow Yun Fat). |
 |
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Wudan
warrior Yu Shu Lien (Michelle Yeoh).
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OBF also brings Tan Dun to the podium
to direct his new Crouching Tiger Concerto at 4 pm on July
7 in the Silva Hall in a multi-media presentation that includes a
video by the creative team of Ang Lee; writer, producer James Schamus;
and videographer Michael Newman. In a reversal of the earlier process
of creating the music for the film, here the concerto is used by the
filmmakers to make the video. Selected images from the full-length
film as well as new shots of contemporary New York and computer-created
images of 19th century Beijing make up the short video, which is not
yet available to collectors. Cellist Maya Beiser will be the soloist.
Also on the program, Tan will conduct the festival orchestra in two
orchestral theatre works.
As a film, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon lends
itself to this sophisticated level of creative interest because it
is more than a rousing, good adventure, which it certainly is. But
as the cello solos remind us, it is also a tragedy. Two love stories
entwine: that of an older couple constrained by custom and propriety
and that of a younger couple who defy restraint to pursue passion
and power at their own risk. And because the more mature couple also
practice an ancient, mystical Taoist art, their unconsummated love
assumes a mythic status that elevates the meaning of the whole film,
even as it changes the lives of those around them.
Ostensibly centered around the loss and recovery of
a secret manual of martial arts, the film's true mystery is that of
the human heart. Only during the last moments of life is the great
warrior Li Mu Bai (Chow Yun Fat) able to speak of his love to Yu Shu
Lien (Michelle Yeoh), although they have loved one another for many
years. A parallel parting between the rebellious aristocrat and great
fighter, Jen (Zhang Ziyi), and her lover, the desert bandit, Lo (Chang
Chen), ends more ambiguously. It may be that a noble sacrifice is
made, or it may be that a proud one recognizes the depth of spiritual
failure and cannot go on.
It's hard for me as a Westerner to fully understand
the metaphors used in this film, such as the most obvious: "crouching
tigers" and "hidden dragons." Likewise, Li Mu Bai's concern soon after
meeting the talented but undisciplined Jen that she may have been
"poisoned" by her rogue teacher, Jade Fox (Cheng Pei Pei), who stole
the secret book and poisoned Li Mu Bai's teacher.
It's easy as a Westerner to assume the character is
speaking metaphorically: the power-seeking teacher poisoned the girl's
mind. But at a deeper level, it could refer to a spiritual malaise,
not a psychological condition. I am particularly grateful
to David Johnson for uncovering the following poem in Opening a
Mountain: Koans of the Zen Masters by Steven Heine (Oxford University
Press, 2001), which he reviewed for EW's recent reading issue. Note
the final image in this "encounter dialogue," a koan by Wang-wei (699-759):
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I
didn't know where the temple was,
Pushing
mile upon mile among cloudy peaks;
Old
trees, Unpopulated paths,
Deep
mountains, somewhere a bell.
Brook
voices choke over craggy boulders,
Sunrays
turn cold in the green pines.
At
dusk by the bend of a deserted pond,
A
monk in meditation, taming poisonous dragons. –
Wang-Wei
|
Like this simple poem, the images and ideas in Crouching
Tiger, Hidden Dragon continue to open themselves up to new interpretations.
While it's tempting to imagine that we understand the film as a martial
arts fantasy, that is probably misleading. I urge you to view the
film with an open heart, which may lead to a deeper understanding
of the film.
Besides seeing the film in its entirety, we will also
have the opportunity to hear Tan Dun's six-movement triple concerto,
arranged from the score to the movie, and to see the images selected
by the filmmakers to represent the film. I look forward to gaining
new inspiration about the movie from this compact format, a distillation
of sound and image that promises pleasure, if not enlightenment, to
the viewer.
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