According to the history books, the dance was originally used not to drive away evil but elephants. During the Sung period (420--479) of the Southern Dynasties, the general Tzung Ch'ueh led an army south to quell the country of Lin-yi located some where around Laos and Burma. The king of that country used an "elephant formation" to stop the army's advance. But the general had an idea. Having heard that all beasts submit to the lion, he ordered his subordinates to construct fake lions and put them on the front line. As soon as the elephants saw them, they scattered, and Lin-yi submitted to the Sung.
While the lion dance goes back some 1500 years, the lion itself is not native to China. The first one was brought to China as tribute during the reign of the Emperor Shun (126-145) of the Han dynasty. But ancient China had no zoos, and the people who had actually seen a lion were very few. So how did they go about imitating the lion in their dances?
"By looking at the animals around them," one current trainee suggests. Chinese lion dances can be divided into two broad categories: The northern style imitates the dog; and the southern, the cat.
The northern, or Peking, "lion" is short, stocky, and furry, much like an oversized Pekinese. The head is constructed with papier-mache applied over a frame of wicker or bamboo and may weigh anywhere from three to eight kilos. Dancing requires a solid foundation in kungfu；otherwise, a fierce lion may come out more like a sick pussycat.
Southern "lions" come with faces of gold (or yellow), red, black, or silver, representing Liu Pei, Kuan Yu, Chang Fei, and Chao Tzu-lung, heroes of the Three Kingdoms period. The color of the whiskers varies, shading from black to gray to snowy white depending on the history of the troupe.
And just as dragon boats are painted with a pair of eyes before being launched, lion costumes are dotted with red cinnabar on the eyes, body, belly, and tail at dawn of their first day to the accompaniment of a rhythmic verse.
Lion dances can also be divided into "civil" and "martial" styles--the former, unhurried and dignified; the latter, brisk and aggressive.
"But dances have become 'liberalized' now," 80-year-old Liao Wu Ch'ang says. While the greatest taboo-no woman may step over the lion's head-still remains, the costume and style of dancing are now largely facultative. Among all the various types found on Taiwan today, the Cantonese and Fukienese schools, both belonging to the southern style, are the most prevalent.
The Cantonese dances form parts of a complete story, which Trainer Chen Ying-kui explains. The Smiling Buddha appears first, gathering a magic fungus in the mountains, and then falls asleep, clutching the plants in his arms. A lion attracted by the scent awakens the Buddha, startling them both. When the Buddha sees the lion has no evil intent, he takes him into a temple, where, hearing the sound of the bells and drums and the holy scripture, the lion is gradually enlightened. The Buddha takes the lion out to play and to look for food--vegetarian naturally--and from this arise many scenes called "Plucking the Green."
Troupes usually perform just a few scenes in a day- "The Smiling Buddha Gathers Fungus in the Mountains," "The Lion Comes Out of His Cave," "The Buddha Toys With the Lion," and so forth. Tables and chairs represent towering mountains; a wooden board stands for a bridge; and a basin of water may symbolize a lake, a river, or a sea.
The best part of "Plucking the Green" is actually red-a red envelope filled with cash-and it can be placed in any number of fashions, called "Snake Green," "Crab Green," "High Green," etc., depending on the process of "plucking."
In "Crab Green," for example, a washbasin represents the crab's body; a pair of oranges, its eyes; and chopsticks or joss sticks, its claws. The lion is surprised and suspicious at first, circling the creature warily. Then he lets out a roar of frustration (the drums sound loudly). Finally he has an idea, removes the crab's claws one by one, and picks up the red envelope under the crab's body.
The most acrobatic of the skits are "Plucking the High Green," which involves climbing a hand-held pole, and "Crossing the Broken Single-Plank Bridge"-on a narrow board between two chairbacks. Each scene may take from 20 to 30 minutes to perform.
The Fukienese, or Taiwanese, lion dance is less spectacular, without scenery and using a smaller drum, and emphasizes genuine kungfu. The lion's features are fiercer, too, with large, slanting eyes and protruding fangs.
Fukienese lion dances are often performed at temples. Approaching the temple door, the lion first bows right and left-to greet his brethren, the stone lions on either side. The lion then dances to the right, left, and front to read the scrolls around the door. Crossing the threshold, he kneels thrice and kowtows nine times to the temple god. Besides "Greeting the God" Fukienese lions can perform 17 other programs, including "Crossing the Bridge," "Exploring the Well," and others.
"In crossing the bridge, you've got to tiptoe precariously, to show the lion's anxiety," Liao Wu-ch'ang explains. When this old master talks about lion dancing, he lifts a leg, wags his head, and starts to looks downright lionish even without a costume.
Lion dancers become wrapped up in their hobby. One construction worker, who was particularly caught up in his role, was once seen "crossing the single-plank bridge" on a three-storey-high scaffolding.
"You've got to be a little flaky to dance a good lion," Chen Ying-kui concludes. "When you take off the lion's head, the expression of the dancer inside is just like a lion's."
Maybe this is just where the fun lies. As the drums crescendo and the lion bestrides the mountain peak, the dancers' spirits cannot help but rise, as though they themselves were majestic lions gazing proudly on the world below.
[Picture Caption]
The three major schools each has a distinctive look. From top to bottom: the Peking, Cantonese, and Fukienese lions.
The Peking lion is short-legged, furry, and stocky-somewhat like an "enlarged" Pekinese pup. The picture was taken at last Year's Double Ten festivities.
The tables and chairs this Cantonese lion is climbing up represent the peaks and folds of mountains. The tub of water on top may stand for a lake, a river, or a sea.
The Smiling Buddha leads the lion across a precarious single-plank bridge in a frequently performed scene from the Cantonese school.
To "pluck a green" placed up high the Cantonese lion has to go up a tall pole. This trick involves an element of acrobatics.
Eighty-year-old Liao Wu-ch'ang becomes animated talking about lion dancing.
Cantonese lion dancing uses a large drum; Taiwanese, a smaller one. The drummer to the left is Chen Ying-kui.
"The Lion Girl Flirts With the Lion"-a program performed at the first Taiwan Cup Lion Dancing Contest.
The Peking lion is short-legged, furry, and stocky-somewhat like an "enlarged" Pekinese pup. The picture was taken at last Year's Double Ten festivities.
The tables and chairs this Cantonese lion is climbing up represent the peaks and folds of mountains. The tub of water on top may stand for a lake, a river, or a sea.
The Smiling Buddha leads the lion across a precarious single-plank bridge in a frequently performed scene from the Cantonese school.
To "pluck a green" placed up high the Cantonese lion has to go up a tall pole. This trick involves an element of acrobatics.
Eighty-year-old Liao Wu-ch'ang becomes animated talking about lion dancing.
Cantonese lion dancing uses a large drum; Taiwanese, a smaller one. The drummer to the left is Chen Ying-kui.
The drummer to the left is Chen Ying-kui.
"The Lion Girl Flirts With the Lion"-a program performed at the first Taiwan Cup Lion Dancing Contest.
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