"He's hot stuff all right--a top understudy of Yeh Sheng-lan, the master of Peking hsiao-sheng!"

"And handling female roles too--that takes real talent!"

"He's a firm anticommunist, you know--left the mainland to live in Hong Kong before getting the chance to perform on Taiwan."

"And I heard he's a descendant of the Ch'ing royal family. No wonder he looks so impressive on stage!"

By a little past five in the afternoon on a cold day in February last year, a huge crowd had gathered in front of Taipei's Armed Forces Cultural Activity Center, a crowd the likes of which had rarely been seen there before. Gray-haired Peking opera addicts mingled with energetic young students carrying notebooks, and the name Ma Yu-ch'i was constantly on their lips.

Over the next few days, as Ma appeared successively in The Meeting of Heroes, Lo Ch'eng Calls at the Pass, and The Fourth Son Visits His Mother, tickets were snapped up as soon as they went on sale. Overeager fans pushed and shoved one another and tussled with the ticket sellers. "Ma" mania had taken the island by storm.

Just what kind of performer is Ma Yu-ch'i to have caused such a fuss in the normally staid and subdued world of local Chinese opera?

Thinly built and dressed casually in a martial arts suit, Ma Yu-ch'i grins and talks with relish about Chinese painting. He's not just a devotee but a practitioner and considers painting a good way for a performer to cultivate integrity and character.

"Chinese painting and Peking opera actually have a lot in common," he says. The free, impressionistic side of Chinese painting is reflected in the way Peking opera simplifies and abstracts, mixing the real and the unreal to create a unique aesthetic synthesis. And Chinese painting's meticulous brushwork is mirrored in Peking opera by the extreme concentration paid to every gesture and intonation.

"In the opera Picking Up a Bracelet, for instance," Ma continues, "there are a lot of movements like chasing and feeding chickens and sewing clothes that are trivial and nonaesthetic in real life. But Chinese opera uses only the most essential part of them, just enough to express the meaning, and then adds 'artistic processing' to fill them with beauty and charm."

Adept at painting and calligraphy, a connoisseur of Chinese antiques, and an amateur writer in his free time, Ma absorbs artistic nourishment from many sources. Notes John Hu, a drama professor at National Taiwan University: "He puts a sense of beauty into every movement, every gesture. It's a beauty that comes from inner cultivation, a beauty you can savor."

Peking opera performers who can handle both male and female roles are few indeed. Each role has its own set of formulas for voice, gesture, carriage, and expression, and a performer who tries to master both is apt to succeed in neither. But Ma has no qualms or hesitation.

"Chinese opera stresses 'artistic processing,' so even women have to master a set of formulas to act a female role. They can't just rely on intuition," he says. "When a man acts a female part, he's apt to observe and study the details even more closely, simply because of the sex difference. As long as he puts in enough time and effort, a man can wind up acting with more beauty and refinement than a woman!"

During his eight years at Chinese opera school, Ma threw himself with total energy into mastering the techniques of this demanding art, and he became an instant stage success after his graduation in 1959.

Unfortunately, in the political context of the time, his aristocratic family background proved to be a major stumbling block in his artistic career. Labeled as belonging to the "five black categories," Ma was packed off to an opera troupe in Manchuria, where he remained for twenty years before leaving the mainland.

In 1962 he managed to fulfill a long-cherished dream when he was accepted as a student by the renowned master of hsiao-sheng roles, Yeh Sheng-lan. Ma applied Yeh's vigor and energy to his hsiao-sheng roles, giving them greater refinement and depth. He earned a "high salary" of 84 jenminpi a month, and although he had no opportunity to develop freely, he at least found fulfillment in being involved in the theater.

But in 1966 the Cultural Revolution began, stripping away even the most basic elements of human dignity. "I wasn't the only one who suffered," he says. "The whole country did."

After the Cultural Revolution ended, traditional Chinese opera gradually started up again. But Ma, like many other shell-shocked artists, could think only of getting out. He racked his brains and mobilized his "overseas relations," finally arriving in Hong Kong in 1979. But acting opportunities there have been few and far between.

Ma made his first visit to Taiwan, through the arrangement of friends, two years ago on the R.O.C. National Day. He was immediately attracted by the flourishing state of Peking opera.

When he came back, it was to act, and the response was overwhelming. He had his things moved from Hong Kong, and he sold a pair of calligraphic works to decorate his new home. All this for a simple belief: that he had finally found a place in which he can develop his artistry freely.

In the short year and a half since he came to Taiwan, Ma has quickly recovered the skills which have lain dormant for nearly twenty years and he harbors many expectations for the future. Approaching his fiftieth year, he exclaims with a confident smile: "I feel like my artistic life has only just begun. There's still a long road ahead!"

[Picture Caption]

When Ma Yu-ch'i plays the role of pert and lovely Mu Kuei-ying he captivates the audience with his feminine charm.

Casually dressed and lightly fanning himself, Ma is relaxed and easy-going off stage.

Roles male or female, martial or civil--Ma is adept at them all. Here he plays the general Chou Yu.

Ma's antiques are worth repeated savoring.

Ma amuses himself with poetry and painting in his spare time. This is one of his works.

Singing and gesture exercises are a daily routine, yet Ma always gives them his total attention.

A bare bulb and a mirror--that's how carefully the make-up is spread.

Casually dressed and lightly fanning himself, Ma is relaxed and easy-going off stage.

Roles male or female, martial or civil--Ma is adept at them all. Here he plays the general Chou Yu.

Ma's antiques are worth repeated savoring.

Ma amuses himself with poetry and painting in his spare time. This is one of his works.

Singing and gesture exercises are a daily routine, yet Ma always gives them his total attention.

A bare bulb and a mirror--that's how carefully the make-up is spread.