home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1995
/
TIME Almanac 1995.iso
/
time
/
062094
/
06209926.000
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1995-02-24
|
4KB
|
81 lines
<text id=94TT0812>
<title>
Jun. 20, 1994: Theater:The Lady Becomes the Tiger
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1994
Jun. 20, 1994 The War on Welfare Mothers
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
ARTS & MEDIA/THEATER, Page 64
The Lady Becomes the Tiger
</hdr>
<body>
<p> The Woman Warrior makes grand spectacle of a writer's youth
</p>
<p>By William A. Henry III
</p>
<p> There can be few more inherently untheatrical topics than
a writer's struggle to find his or her individual voice. The
journey is internal, the judgment that it is over is purely
subjective, and the quest is not of obvious relevance to any
onlooker. From Look Homeward, Angel to Brighton Beach Memoirs,
plays on this topic have been talk, talk, talk. So it is
startling and satisfying to see a 68-ft.-wide stage crowded with
white tigers, monkey kings, acrobats, sword fighters and
18-ft.-tall spirits of wisdom gliding by serenely as
California's Berkeley Repertory Theatre unfolds The Woman
Warrior, a version of two visionary coming-of-age novels by
Maxine Hong Kingston.
</p>
<p> The artistic search Kingston describes is more complex
than most: she is an ethnic Chinese in "white ghost" America,
a protofeminist woman caught between two male-dominated
cultures, a natural writer in English whose parents are literate
only in Chinese. In addition to being captivated by folk
mythology, she is, like most writers, in the grip of intense
family mythology--about an aunt shamed to suicide by giving
birth to a bastard, about uncles murdered by communists who then
arrogantly urge her father, safely in America, to "donate" the
dead men's lands. These stories clearly indicated to young
Kingston that America was better than China. Yet in the everyday
dealings of her parents with a world that they did not
understand and that accorded them little dignity, the family
found ample evidence that America was far worse. This
contradiction, among all the others, drove the pubescent
Kingston into mute inertia, symbolized on stage by the heroine's
spending most of an act strapped into a bed dangling from the
ceiling.
</p>
<p> Kingston has complained that critics, while generous,
misread her work as being about China rather than America.
Berkeley Rep artistic director Sharon Ott, the latest in a mob
of adapters who have spent nearly two decades trying to find a
dramatic idiom for Kingston's work, calls the central character
"a troubled, gifted, 12-year-old American girl trapped in a
petite Chinese body."
</p>
<p> Ott's version, created with writer Deborah Rogin, plays on
the Berkeley campus until July 10, then opens the fall season
at Boston's Huntington Theatre before being rethought for a new
Los Angeles staging next spring. The spectacle is impressive but
often slow and emotionally remote. In veering away from the
kitchen-sink realism of most immigrant dramas, Rogin and Ott
have made too much oblique. Despite program notes, many
allusions to Chinese heritage will elude even spectators
acquainted with Peking Opera, the crucial inspiration. To Ott,
femaleness, not ethnicity, is at the heart of the story. "The
relationships this girl has with her parents," she says, "are
very specifically a daughter's relationships, in ways that
transcend culture but are deeply linked to gender." Yet the show
seems far more a piece of Orientalia than an exploration of a
young girl's mind and dreams. What it needs is fewer warriors
and more women.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>