Comedy has always been a way for people to overcome the frustrations and worries of everyday life, and hsiang sheng (which could loosely be translated as "comic duets") constitutes one of the oldest forms of Chinese humor. Performed without sets or makeup, hsiang sheng features two actors alone on a stage, who sometimes duel in a battle of wits, and sometimes take the familiar funny man-straight man roles. The styles are several and the punch lines brilliant.
"Jokes are like a wrapped parcel," says Wei Lung-hao, who has performed over 20 years of hsiang sheng, "you shed them layer by layer, until the very end, when the answer, which isn't quite what you expected, finally makes its appearance."
For a taste of hsiang sheng humor:
A: Ah, Mr. Wei!
B: Ah, Mr. Lin!
A: Do you still live over there?
B: I sure do!
A: You haven't moved, have you?
B: No, I haven't!
A: Ah, sir. . . where do you live? Or:
A: Ah, Mr. Wei, you've been an actor for many years, haven't you?
B: Yes, I've been in the field for several years, that's true.
A: Ah, you must be an old hand at the trade.
B: Oh, I wouldn't go that far.
A: An old master?
B: Come, come now!
A: Alright, then an old. . . has-been.
Hsiang sheng has many different formats and styles, ranging from bone-dry humor to the most exaggerated slapstick. Stock characters, such as the drunk tottering around and beating his chest, are quite popular. One favorite, involving a drunkard, goes like this:
"Who's got the guts, . . . to mess with me." Another man then pounds his chest and roars, "I do!" After this, he announces, "Hey! You all heard that! Little punk. . . have the guts to mess with me. . . come over here. . . now. . . who's got the guts to mess with me. . . with us."
Hsiang sheng originally came from the palace, where it was a form of court entertainment called Yu P'ai in the early Chou dynasty (11th century B.C.-221 B.C.).
Through most of the Ching dynasty (1644-1911), hsiang sheng found itself performed mainly in the imperial court after banquets and during holidays. It was still considered then a part of Chinese opera, not an independent art by itself. Later the number of operas began to proliferate, and the court prohibited opera performances on the 1st and 15th of every month, as well as on anniversaries of the emperor's ancestors. In practice, this meant that actors lost about two months of work, and they gradually left the court to perform in public by themselves. With this development, hsiang sheng began a process of democratization, using commoners' language, gestures and customs as material. Only the blue gowns, exaggerated bows, and occasional use of noble language served to remind the audience of its court origins.
One would expect hsiang sheng to continue to be popular in our modern society, which certainly needs a good laugh now and then, but it hasn't happened. Explains one observer, "Appreciating hsiang sheng first requires some understanding of the traditional background. Times have changed, but hsiang sheng didn't, and has been left behind." Attempts at adaptation for the most part are looked on as pouring new wine in old bottles, and audience response has been tepid. The most critical problem has been the lack of new talent.
Hsiang sheng performers commonly learn their trade through an apprenticeship to an older actor. In the first stages, the student is taught to speak quick, fluid and correct Chinese, through hours of practice repeating long and difficult tongue-twisters, until his speech is a steady torrent of words, without the least hint of hesitation or uncertainty. After mastering a host of dialects and accents, he then practices working with a partner and singing opera. After one or two years of intensive training, the apprentice is ready to perform on his own.
But can he find an audience? Today people have many different ways to keep themselves amused, and practitioners of hsiang sheng face keen competition. At present, only a few radio stations broadcast hsiang sheng, and that only for an hour on the weekend. However, in early March over twenty performances were sold out in Taipei, Kaohsiung, and Taichung, of Li Kuohsiu and Li Li-ch'un's "The Night We Performed Hsiang Sheng." The show featured all new material, which involved scenes set both in old Peking and contemporary Taipei. The avid response has encouraged other artists, and hisang sheng is making a comeback. How long will it last? Only time will tell.
(Mark Halperin)
[Picture Caption]
A picture from a performance of "The Night We Performed Hsiang Sheng."
Lai Sheng-ch'uan, the director of "Night," currently teaches drama at th e National Academy of Art.
Hsiang sheng has its roots in the performances of ancient court entertainers.
Wei Su of Taiwan Television, a veteran hsiang sheng comic, here explainshis techniques to students at Tsing Hu a University.
These refined tea connoisseurs are not above a bit of hsiang sheng to go with their Oolong.
There's no need to be there in person. The tape is enough to put you in stitches.
Lai Sheng-ch'uan, the director of "Night," currently teaches drama at th e National Academy of Art.
Hsiang sheng has its roots in the performances of ancient court entertainers.
Wei Su of Taiwan Television, a veteran hsiang sheng comic, here explains his techniques to students at Tsing Hu a University.
These refined tea connoisseurs are not above a bit of hsiang sheng to go with their Oolong.
There's no need to be there in person. The tape is enough to put you in stitches.
