"Things are pretty quiet in the US, and most of the time I'm watching the store. If I want to go out to take care of something, a lot of the time is spent on the road. Frankly, there aren't that many chances to perform, and there's not much variation in a routine day . . . .
"When I go back to the mainland, I'm busy from morning to night. If I go out for a while I have to hurry back and make lunch for my twelve-year-old daughter. She's really something else. She can sing all the Top Ten songs. Last time I was there the Hong Kong singer Chang Kuo-jung came to Peking. She was incredibly excited. I asked her how it compared to Daddy coming home. She thought about this for a long time, and said that she still felt more excited when Chang Kuo-jung was coming . . . .
"One day in Taiwan is really busy, busy rehearsing, busy going on TV programs, busy eating dinner with friends, and it's also very nerve wracking . . . ."
Li Bao-chun, born in the Year of the Tiger, 42; seven years ago he took up permanent residence in the United States, and three years ago he began making recurrent trips to Taiwan to perform. On stage he is an imposing and vigorous figure, carrying great authority. Off stage, he spoke in a smooth and rich Peking accent to describe "a day in the life of three places."
"Mainland artist" causes a sensation? Li Bao-chun has been to Taiwan on several occasions, doing both old and new operas, each time performing outstandingly, attracting a large audience, and winning broad recognition.
Is it a case of, as the Chinese say, that "the monk from afar [someone from a distant place] can really read the scriptures [perform the task] better?" Although he has already resided in the States for six or seven years, carrying the title of "mainland Chinese artist" has certainly given many in the audience a sense of novelty and of curiosity, and many come to see him just because they've heard the name. And as the "son of Li Shao-chun," this makes people even more likely to "love the bird that lives in the house that we love," and pay even more attention to him.
Li Bao-chun understands himself that he is riding the coattails of his family. He says casually, "When I first came to Taiwan it was like having my hands over my eyes, and I wasn't very familiar with anyone; but when I got here I found many enthusiastic people. Although there was a lot of pressure, I was also very happy."
Nevertheless, it's not easy to hold the enthusiasm of the audience, and it can't be done unless you've got what it takes. Every time he performed, he would select the finest operas, from old dramas like Boar Forest or Striking With a Golden Brick to new ones like Ts'ao Ts'ao and Yang Hsiu or The Pao Lien Magic Netherworld Lamp. His makeup, costumes, and gestures recalled those of his father in many places, making old opera fans nostalgic.
Li Tung-chun, the "Living Kuan Kung" and Bao-chun's uncle (Tung-chun's older brother Li Wan-chun was Li Shao-chun's sister's husband, so the two families are related by marriage), had great praise for this nephew of his: "He really brought things out and gave our local Peking Opera community a shot in the arm."
Li Bao-chun has a natural gift. In terms of his "cultured" side, he has a strong voice and rich tone. In terms of his "martial" side, he has skillful gestures and each action is precise and solid. Where did this talent come from? He comes from a famous Peking Opera family. His grandfather Li Chia-chun was "Little Ta-tsu," one of "the Five Ta-tsu" actors at the end of the Ch'ing dynasty. His father served as leader of the "China Academy of Peking Opera" troupe, studying cultured parts from Yu Shu-yen and martial parts from Yang Hsiao-lou. He could also write and direct. His mother Hou Yu-lan, an actress of the Tsung-cheng School who performed the part of the graceful daughter of the wealthy family, was one of the "Four Pieces of Jade" in her time.
Originally, despite the fact that he was revered all over China, Li Shao-chun had no intention of allowing his children to study for the opera. For one thing he felt that the environment had already changed, and there were no longer the same conditions as when his father had invited a famous teacher to come to their home to teach him everything about the opera. And for another, everyone's skills and interests are different, and he wouldn't want to force them into it.
Son of Li Shao-chun--staying in the family business: Because Bao-chun, the fourth son, had been given to the grandparents to be raised, he was often taken to see the opera, and became entranced with the colorful, resplendent stage.
At the age of ten, hiding it from his father, he was taken by his grandmother to test for the Peking Opera school, and only after passing the entrance exam did he 'fess up to his father and begin to sit in class and study his father's trade--being an actor in Peking Opera. His most terrifying moments were going home every weekend to face his father. First he would have to warm up his voice, then perform a complete cycle of the homework assigned at school. And his father would sit there straight-faced, picking out all his defects, even more rigorous toward him than toward others.
Because of the attention his father devoted to him, later when he was "sent down to the countryside" for manual labor in the Cultural Revolution, and later during his days in the US when "there were no performances," he still practiced, never losing his ability to sing nor his gestures and actions. Besides the reason of "being in love with art," he also was thinking fondly of his parents: "I didn't want it ever to be said that the son of Li Shao-chun had changed professions," he states.
"You make arrangements to meet him at a restaurant, and in the distance you see someone sitting there acting strangely and making hand gestures--and, as you expect, it turns out to be Bao-chun," says Vivien H.C. Ku, assistant executive director of the Koo's Foundation.
A good teacher: When rehearsing, Li Bao-chun's demanding standards are in the same vein as his father's in those early days.
Chen Yuan-cheng, of the Chiu School, who worked with him playing the part of Ts'ao Ts'ao, remembers that when they were rehearsing, Li Bao-chun specially asked him to go to the hotel where Li was staying so the two of them could rehearse each scene one after the other. In the drama Murder in the Funeral Parlor, there is one part with extremely hard to sing parts, and Chen couldn't memorize the words, so he wanted to just scrap it. Li Bao-chun insisted that it couldn't be taken out, otherwise the whole performance would be in vain.
The two argued long and hard, "and in the end we did it his way and did the complete play. I felt that this was a great breakthrough for me, showing that there was still room for artistic development," says Chen Yuan-cheng happily.
Wang Feng-yun, who played the role of his leading lady in The Pao Lien Magic Netherworld Lamp, also had the benefit of his detailed and earnest instruction: "A certain light in the eye, the fullness of a certain gesture--he could explain it all one item at a time. I really learned a lot." She also discovered that if an actor simply had the desire to study, no matter how immature their level, Li Bao-chun would be happy to instruct them, to personally demonstrate, or stand by their side and count off the rhythm. He didn't just give lip service, he really would do things for people.
Onstage sending off powerful vibrations: The onstage Li Bao-chun readily gets into the drama, and gives off powerful vibes in all directions. "As soon as you see him your eyes light up, and as soon as you hear him sing your ears light up even more. It's really awe-inspiring, and it makes the others pale in comparison," is how one member of the audience described it.
He likes dramas that are a bit heavy emotionally, and isn't so thrilled about stable, even structures because emotionally twisting dramas "allow you to play out tragedy, stoicism, and so on to their full extent on stage . . . it's really a thrill to perform these plays, and they are good for bringing your full talents into play."
For example, three years ago, when Li first came to Taiwan, he performed the operas Boar Forest and Striking With a Golden Brick, which had become traditional family specialties. In the last scene in the latter piece, the emperor Hankuang Wuti has just awakened from a drunken stupor. He goes to the imperial ancestral shrine to make offerings to loyal ministers of the past who he had killed while drunk. It looks like he is fighting against the shadowy demons in his heart, and leaps, crawls, and stumbles across the stage, and in the end dies of shock and horror.
In March of last year Li Bao-chun performed a new script from mainland China, Ts'ao Ts'ao and Yang Hsiu at the National Theater. He both directed and performed in it. Compared to the "scholarly" flavor given to the part of Yang Hsiu by Yen Hsing-peng, the original performer, critics say that Li used a resonant, cutting vocal quality and invested more "cunning" in the part. He played Yang Hsiu as a self-involved genius, and he did it very eloquently, fully playing out the tragic history of the mutual reliance and mutual jealousies of the warrior--Ts'ao Ts'ao--and the man of words.
Coldness with amusement: After taking off the makeup, the offstage Li Bao-chun is, in word and deed, neither hasty nor tardy. But he is very humorous, and can often have people laughing their heads off with a few well-chosen words. He evokes a strong sense of drama, but he does not join in the general mirth, being of the "poker face" type.
Aside from being humorous, Li Bao-chun also can occasionally show a chilly side. He still recalls his father's words: "Any beautiful drawing you see, turn the page over, and it's gone, a blank sheet of paper, and start again." The better something is, the more quickly it changes, and the happier one's days are, the faster they go by.
Thus now he is happy, but also afraid of being too happy, always afraid of that desolate moment when the last song has been sung and the audience has gone home. Only on the stage does he love to express his emotions to the fullest, and perform joyously. "Compared to our smooth existences, his is exceptionally 'dramatic.' He is already this mature and only in his early 40's. This is closely related to his personal experiences," is the Bao-chun in the eyes of Ku Huai-chun. "He always laughingly talks about things in the past, but it seems that very early on he came to see life clearly for what it is."
From scion of a well-to-do family to one of the "Five Black" categories: His story is a microcosm of Chinese of his generation.
"When I was small, my home environment was very good. Then the Cultural Revolution turned everything upside down. After it was over, I set up a little household, then I went to the United States, and ran into a lot of problems I had absolutely never expected." In just a few words he explains the vicissitudes of a lifetime. If you describe it in detail, it is like the acts of a play!
The Cultural Revolution was a great watershed. His fine home was confiscated, and his family forced to move from a 22-room house to a small two-room affair. His father was labelled one of the "Five Blacks," was forced to wear the cap of a reactionary scholarly authority, and was put in prison. Li Bao-chun was sent down to the countryside where he worked in the fields and raised pigs.
Two years later his father came out of prison. Li Bao-chun rode on his bicycle in the middle of the night to meet him. Sitting on the back of the bike, his face puffy and his hair white, the brilliance and spark of the early days was no more. This was the first time Li Bao-chun had felt closeness between father and son.
The Cultural Revolution destroyed Li Shao-chun, and he never spoke about what happened when he was held. The children felt saddened that their father could not perform in prison, but instead spent all day laboring, so they looked after him as much as possible. Sitting at home, inactive, father and son would sit without exchanging a word. In order to bolster his father's spirits, Li Bao-chun would wear down his resistance and ask him to go through dramas with him. Special plays that became family traditions, like Boar Forest and Striking With a Golden Brick, were all passed down in this period.
Unfortunately, in his old age Li Shao-chun's health was very poor, and he could only read through the dramas; he had no strength to demonstrate things. And the strictness which in former days had filled people with respect and trepidation was completely gone. He only revealed a deep sense of emotion, and would be moved to tears just talking about some small matter. Thereafter he again returned to the Peking Opera Academy to write scripts and train voices, but the once world conquering Li Shao-chun had become very restrained and polite, so that others would see him as a modest old man.
No bitterness that cannot be overcome: This relationship with his father, which only developed in the wake of tragedy, had a huge impact on Li Bao-chun, not only in his artistic development but in his personal outlook on life.
His father's words "there is no bitterness which cannot be overcome, only good fortune that cannot be enjoyed," sustained Li Bao-chun. During the Cultural Revolution, because his skill won the appreciation of Chiang Ch'ing (Madame Mao), he managed to gain admission to the model drama troupe which had originally meticulously required a worker, peasant, or soldier background. In 1975 his father passed away, and his mother and grandmother died in succession the following year. The same year the Gang of Four was toppled, and the Peking Opera Academy restored. He requested that he be allowed to enter the group that his father had once had at the China Academy of Peking Opera, planning to revive the old dramas his father had left behind.
In 1982 he went to Britain to perform. Because of his brilliant artistic abilities, the British Academy of St. Martin's in the Field formally bestowed the certificate of High Level Lecturer in Peking Opera. In 1984, he participated in the Cologne arts festival in Germany, and also received an honorary PhD in Drama in France. But he always returned to Peking to perform his operas.
The good humor man: Over two years, the world of Peking Opera in mainland China faced a period of adjustment. It was not permitted for one to organize one's own troupe, and it was also impossible to lead a school. At that time there were no plays to perform. The US had a promotional group that asked him to go and give advice, and he came to the US willing to give it a try. He did not expect that a family incident would cause him to remain there. He found a job to earn money, and his only thought was to gain permanent residency and bring his only daughter out.
When he first arrived in the US, he was unfamiliar with the land, people, or customs, could not speak the language, and delivered pizzas, did subtitles for "Voice of America," and finally, after much effort, set up a little ice cream shop in Washington DC. In this period, there were virtually no opportunities to perform. Because he hoped one day to return to performing, he would practice when there was no one in the shop. Sometimes while working in the ice cream shop he would absent-mindedly begin to sing, attracting a circle of onlookers. "Americans probably thought I was crazy."
He also drove three or four hours to Broadway to see plays. If he didn't understand it he would watch it two or three times just to see the magnetism and creativity of the mise-en-scene. This is how he came to see Miss Saigon and other plays.
He kept that up until three years ago, when Tien Wen-chung and Wang Hai-po, whom he knew through friends, helped him apply to come to Taiwan to perform. Later he cooperated with the Koo's Foundation to put on Ts'ao Ts'ao and Yang Hsiu and other mainland operas in Taiwan. He had found his professional "second spring."
Becoming a creative director: Li Bao-chun found a place to gain a foothold in Taiwan, and treasured the opportunity that had been put before him. He felt that Taiwan society is very admirable in that, if you work hard, and don't have ridiculous expectations, there's nothing that can't be achieved. In other words, it has "a highly positive atmosphere." Thus, although it was still impossible within the short term for him to take up residence in Taiwan, he already came to see Taiwan as his "professional home."
"My artistic life is quite OK at the moment. I hope to keep it up for several years, performing well, so as not to let down the expectations of the aficionados." But he also knows that every actor has a peak period, and thereafter a time when the "mind makes a promise that the body can't fill." He wants to develop in the direction of directing, and rewrite some old themes, and put on some of his own dramas.
Besides doing new plays, he also wants to promote Peking Opera in Taiwan. At the end of May the cast of The Pao Lien Magic Netherworld Lamp will perform in Taichung and Kaohsiung. "Originally I wanted to put on a small play, but I considered that, this being the first time going there, if we put on an old opera maybe the people wouldn't understand. By choosing this mythical drama, which is full of action, both young and old could accept it." He also excitedly talked about later trying different scripts, performing them in different venues, and even going to the countryside to perform on open-air stages.
The second stage of promotional activity is "Making new friends through mutual interest in the opera." He will accept the invitations of local opera troupes to go in person to explain his approach, explicate roles, and teach an understanding of the fundamentals of singing and actions.
Life approaches art, but art is not like life: "A lot of the changes in life are truly unexpected, and doesn't that make life like a drama?" sighs Li Bao-chun. And is drama like real life? Actually, drama is far more beautiful than life, because you can get a grip on drama and it allows you to exploit your feelings to the full, and it can end any way you like it to. "Life is nothing like that--you can never be sure of its outcome," he concludes.
Just like his father in those early days, a shooting star for a time, then crushed in an instant. Thus anytime people compare father and son, and ask Li Bao-chun whether or not the younger has outshone the older, he just laughs and says, "I know clearly that however popular I am, I can never be more popular than Li Shao-chun was then. But what was he left with in the end? The reward he got was not even as good as that of having had an insignificant role in life." Although that's what he says, he still is like a chess pawn, always going forward at risk of life and limb, without a moment of unearned rest.
In the end, this great drama of life cannot be other than people struggling and playing it out to the full.
[Picture Caption]
When Li Bao-chun came to Taiwan for the first time three years ago, he performed a traditional family specialty, Boar Forest, making many old opera fans nostalgic. (photo by Hsu Cheng-tse)
Separated by thirty years, this father and son performed like two peas in a pod in The Fourth Brother Visiting Mother; not only were their gestures from the same line of descent, they supported each other as well. (photo at left courtesy of the Shang Ting Publishing Co.)
In the Pao Lien and the Magic Netherworld Lamp, Li Bao-chun handled two roles.
A TV actor asks Li Bao-chun for help with hand gestures for the next performance of a period drama. (photo by Pu Hua-chih)
"How sad! How sad that you don't understand." The arrogant Yang Hsiu faces off against the jealous Ts'ao Ts'ao, and there are many tense moments. (photo courtesy of the Ts'ao Ts'ao and Yang Hsiu)
On the stage, Yang Hsiu sings, "My heart is heavy, my eyes filled with tears, and I am full of doubt." Offstage, Li Bao-chun's life has been turbulent, and he is able to handle it.
Separated by thirty years, this father and son performed like two peas in a pod in The Fourth Brother Visiting Mother; not only were their gestures from the same line of descent, they supported each other as well. （photo at left courtesy of the Shang Ting Publishing Co.）
A TV actor asks Li Bao-chun for help with hand gestures for the next performance of a period drama. （photo by Pu Hua-chih）
In the Pao Lien and the Magic Netherworld Lamp, Li Bao-chun handled two roles.
"How sad! How sad that you don't understand." The arrogant Yang Hsiu faces off against the jealous Ts'ao Ts'ao, and there are many tense moments. （photo courtesy of the Ts'ao Ts'ao and Yang Hsiu）
On the stage, Yang Hsiu sings, "My heart is heavy, my eyes filled with tears, and I am full of doubt." Offstage, Li Bao-chun's life has been turbulent, and he is able to handle it.
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