One-man show
One might well have foreseen that CLT would have trouble repeating its initial success. Lin Hwai-min was in the audience when The Kingdom of Desire opened 20 years ago. The scintillating performance left him worried: "They've hit such a pinnacle with their debut--how in the world are they going to follow up?" Wu Hsing-kuo also understood this point very clearly, and has searched continually for new ways to top his first effort.
But the fact is that CLT has long been a one-man show run out of Wu's home, so to speak. Apart from Wu himself, all the performers have to be seconded from other organizations. To be sure, there are veterans who have been regulars with CLT for a long time now, but they can only work on CLT productions in their spare time. The performers aren't really able to work out all the kinks and develop a strong mutual understanding, nor do they have any chance to contribute to the creative process. That is the main reason why CLT has plateaued out artistically. In addition, government agencies have a silly unwritten rule that funding doesn't go to small productions. This has forced Wu to keep coming out with large-scale works, and prevented him from taking time out for smaller works that are within his reach and would afford a chance to build up solid experience.
In the words of Lin Hsiu-wei: "You can sum up Contemporary Legend Theatre in three words--Wu Hsing-kuo. He handles virtually everything. He decides the subject matter and adapts the script. He's the one who hires an old master to create the operatic music, and a contemporary musician to handle the musical arrangement. He designs the delivery of the dialogue, the martial action, the stage movements, the costumes, the set, the lighting. He's the one who gets everyone together for rehearsal. You name it, he's the one handling it."
Lin, who doubles as head of Tai-Gu Tales Dance Theatre, describes her husband as "a child in a man's body," full of dreams and ideals. Wu once collapsed with cramps and fainted after taking to the stage despite being exhausted and sick with a cold. And he has several times come close to nervous breakdown the night before a performance. One time in France, not wanting to disappoint an audience in Paris, he performed Farewell My Concubine on a drizzly outdoor stage. The Lord of Chu's oversized helmet rubbed his skin raw, but he fought through the bleeding and pain and, together with Wei Hai-min playing the concubine Yu Ji, won enthusiastic applause from a sophisticated audience that could not have been easy to please.
But there's a limit to how much a troupe can accomplish relying on one person's dreams. CLT receives NT$2-3 million every other year from the Council for Cultural Affairs, but Wu strongly believes that aesthetic beauty is the starting point of culture, and therefore stresses the importance of costumes, sets, and props, which is where he spends over half his money with each production.
Lin Hsiu-wei recalls with a chuckle: "When they put on The Kingdom of Desire in Hong Kong, people there didn't dare touch the lavish costumes because they thought they were fabulously expensive antiques!" Such things are a reflection, notes Lin, of Wu's romantic outlook and love of beauty.
As founder of CLT, Wu himself has been the biggest source of private funding for the troupe. Over the past 18 years he has steadily accepted television, movie, and stage roles to make money for CLT. His out-of-pocket contributions so far come to over NT$7 million, and while money is not a source of regret, Wu has not escaped without painful memories. The worst experience of all came 20 years ago when young lighting technician Chou Kai fell to his death amidst chaotic, overworked conditions during the troupe's spectacularly successful tour performing The Kingdom of Desire.
The Kingdom of Desire became an overnight sensation after opening in late 1986 with Wu Hsing-kuo and Wei Hai-min playing the lead roles. Two decades later Sheng Chien has emerged to take over the lead role as General Aoshu Zheng. Like Wu before him, Sheng draws enthusiastic applause in the final act after plunging to the stage from an elevated dais.