by Jim Goodman
Theatrical performances have
been part of Vietnamese culture since ancient times. Even under Chinese occupation they were included in Buddhist
festival programs. Skits depicted
vignettes of everyday life, local myths, religious stories and, after the
re-establishment of independence, tales of national heroes. A particular type of indigenous drama,
called chèo, originated in the 10th
century, when the national capital was at Hoa Lư, credited to Đào Văn Sở, who
organized with his friends semi-annual performances re-enacting the lives of
famous personalities.
modern-style chèo theater in Hanoi |
In what would become a basic
feature of chèo drama, the troupes
used an open stage with few or no props, flanked on three sides by the
audience, simple costumes (generally everyday clothing), accompanied by musicians
with their instruments, mostly percussion, in recent times augmented by
monochord and 16-string zither, who sat in the rear. The plays followed a basic plot but improvised freely while
engaging with the spectators.
Originally all the words were spoken, but after the late 13th
century introduction of tuồng,
Chinese-style opera, the chèo
tradition adapted by mixing both spoken and sung verses in the dialog. The type of singing employed in chèo differs from tuồng and requires at least as much vocal training. And the spoken parts demanded precise
pronunciation, in the local vernacular but with a particular rhythm, enunciated
in a way that left no doubt about the meaning in the listener’s minds.
Stories of heroes were common chèo material. |
This was because, with such a
spare stage and no scenic backdrops, some of the narrative action had to be
conveyed by words. Chèo artists
developed a set of conventional gestures, signals, songs and speech to convey a
sense of space and time, weather and surroundings. For example, if the story requires the characters to ascend
a mountain, the actor will sing a song about the arduous climb to the summit,
following up with a song describing the view. A walk several times around the stage suggested a lengthy
journey.
Thus the performers themselves
are responsible for creating the illusions of different kinds of scenery,
settings and backgrounds, the crossing of spaces and the passage of time. They achieve this through the power of
suggestion evoked by the way they talk, sing and move the different parts of
their bodies. To do this properly
and effectively they must master a range of specific gestures and movements and
particular styles of walking and talking, singing and sighing. These are all standardized to convey
specific meanings that the audience can instantly recognize. These conventions fill the stage with
an imaginary topography, tick away the time and reveal the emotions and
personality traits of the characters
fatal encounter in a chèo dramatic scene |
After the capital moved to
Thăng Long (Hanoi) chèo continued to
enjoy royal patronage, with professional troupes part of the court’s
entertainment, throughout the Lý and Trần Dynasties. But with the inauguration of the very
Confucian-oriented Lê Dynasty in the 15th century both chèo and tuồng dramas
were banned at court. Tuồng
theater later made a comeback with the Nguyễn Dynasty but chèo survived only in the villages,
where it maintained its popularity right down to modern times. Nowadays traditional theater as an
entertainment option, thanks to competition from TV, films and modern music, is
less attractive for urban dwellers.
But many villages continue to include traditional theater in their
annual festival programs.
Clowns and jokers added comic relief. |
Like the tuồng operas,
chèo dramas are also didactic and
carry a strong moral message, imbued with Buddhist virtues and Confucian
standards of ethics and social harmony. Good ultimately triumphs over evil. Steadfast heroes overcome all
difficulties. Faithful spouses
find and support one another.
Infidelity draws punishment.
Friends regard each other as family. Stepmothers love their husbands’ children as their own and
in-laws live harmoniously together.
Characters are type-cast and their standardized personalities change
little in the course of the story.
They reappear in the same conventionalized roles in play after
play: aristocrats and prime
ministers, students and teachers, drunks, flirts and clowns.
Occasionally though, chèo plays feature strong characters
whose personalities dominate the action, rising above convention to leave an
indelible impression of themselves on the audience. The most memorable of these characters are women: the “monk” Kính Tâm and her would-be
seductress Thi Mâu, the adulteress Thiệt Thê, the scholar’s bored wife
Xúy Vân and the beautiful widow Thị Hến.
The play Quan Âm Thị
Kính begins with Thị Kính’s husband falling asleep over his
studies. His faithful wife Thị
Kính spots an ingrown facial hair on his neck, which was widely believed to be
a bad omen. She takes a knife and
is about to remove it when her husband suddenly wakes up and sees a knife at
his throat. Assuming the worst he
screams for his parents. They see
the situation as one of attempted murder and banish Thị Kính from
the house. Despairing of
convincing them otherwise Thị Kính disguises herself as a
man and enters Vân Tự Pagoda to live as the monk Kính Tâm.
Historical dramas were part of chèo tradition. |
chèo drama of a classical hero |
Visiting Vân Tự
Pagoda the rich girl Thi Mâu spots Kính Tâm at prayers and falls in love. But even when Thi Mâu flirts openly the
monk pays her no mind. Thoroughly
vexed, Thi Mâu returns home, seduces a house servant and when obviously
pregnant accuses Kính Tâm of being the father. The head monk at the temple then expels Kính Tâm. After Thi Mâu delivers her baby she
abandons it at the gate of the pagoda.
Kính Tâm happens to pass by, picks up the baby and raises it to
adulthood. Only when Kính Tâm dies
does everyone discover that Kính Tâm was actually a woman and therefore
innocent of the charges against her.
Thị Kính disguised as the monk Kính Tâm |
Thị Kính/Kính
Tâm is a strong character bearing injustice with admirable fortitude, which
means that she is eventually vindicated, even if posthumously. But Thi Mâu is a more colorful
personality, who shamelessly flaunts her sexuality, so hungry is she for the
tender affections of love.
Unrequited, she then schemes like a jilted lover to have her
revenge. It is a role packed with
emotional expression and over the years chèo
actresses have made their reputations by the skill with which they handled
the role of Thi Mâu.
In Chu Mãi Thần,
the character after whom the play takes its name is a dedicated student who
earns a living gathering firewood while he pursues his education. His bored and lazy wife Thiệt
Thê, fed up with their poverty, runs off to become the concubine of a prosperous
mandarin from central Vietnam. Now
Thiệt
Thê enjoys a life of luxury until the mandarin’s wife finds out about this
relationship and confronts her husband just as he is buying jewelry for Thiệt
Thê.
He quickly repents, begs her
forgiveness and sends his concubine packing. On her way back home Thiệt Thê witnesses the triumphal
procession of a new laureate who has just passed the royal exams. Upon inquiring she learns it is
her own husband Chu Mải Thần. She calls upon him to renew their relationship, but he
refuses. Scorned and humiliated,
the arrant wife takes to the road again, but is soon struck by lightning—the
gods’ punishment for unfaithful wives.
mandarin's wife reacts to his affair with ThiệtThê |
Just as unfortunate is the
fate of the female protagonist Xúy Vân of the play Kim Nhan, named for the man who marries Xúy Vân and then goes to
Thăng Long to study for the royal exams.
Left to live with her in-laws, she is at one point forced to carry the
tray of the traditional offerings of betel and areca to the family of the girl
who is to be her husband’s second wife.
But there she meets and falls in love with a rich, handsome
merchant. To escape the clutches
of her in-laws she feigns madness and then absconds with the merchant. Like Thiệt Thê, she now lives better
than her wildest dreams imagined she would. But he soon tires of her and sends her away.
Wandering on her own, Xúy Vân
chances to meet her husband Kim Nhan again. Far from chastising her, he takes pity on her and gives her
a ball of rice. When she bites
into it she discovers he has put inside of it, as a gift, a tablet of
gold. So ashamed is she for having
been unfaithful to such an obviously good man, whom she had never really gotten
to know, she throws herself into the river.
The moral of
both plays is the same. Both Thiệt
Thê and Xúy Vân must come to bad ends because the prevailing code of ethics
insists that transgressors pay for violations of the code. In a patriarchal, Confucian-oriented
society a wife’s infidelity was a heinous offense that could not pass
unpunished. In both plays the
husbands are morally upright characters whose dedicated efforts earn them
success and honors. The wives are
morally weak, self-centered and impatient. Their deaths may be read as a warning to young wives not to
waver in their fidelity to their husbands no matter what the circumstances.
Yet many village women in the
audience found themselves in sympathy with these doomed heroines. They may have likewise been trapped in
arranged marriages and a life of poverty like Thiệt Thê or forced to accept a
husband’s concubine like Xúy Vân.
These two protagonists, as well as Thị Mâu, are skillfully drawn
portraits of strong-minded women seeking out of life what the rigid,
male-dominated society denies them.
In the stories they come to unhappy ends, but they have all the best
lines in the dialogs, the most important scenes and sing the most beautiful,
soul-stirring songs. Audiences do
not see Xúy Vân’s suicide as just punishment for her unforgivable adultery, but
as the tragic ending of a woman who failed in her quest for love and dignity.
Thị Sến's first visitor |
In dire straits after the
death of her husband, her only way to make a living without compromising
herself is to be a fence for stolen goods. Then the local authorities discover her secret and the court
clerk and a local mandarin each make plans to blackmail her into having an
affair with him. Thị
Hến
arranges to meet them, as well as the monk and the village chief, in secret at
her home, one at a time, each of them unaware of the others’ invitations. The first comes, but his visit is
interrupted by the arrival of the second official, so he hides under her
bed. Then the third visitor
arrives and Thị Hến has the second one hide in
the big paddy basket. The next
comes and also has to hide when the fourth one arrives. Finally come their wives, whom Thi Hen
has also secretly summoned, who catch their husbands at her house and all the
scheming and corruption of these four is now out in the open.
The actress playing Thị
Hến
portrays her as a suave, clever and charming woman who easily outfoxes her
would-be seducers. Shuffling the
men around like toys, hiding them from one another, gives her many opportunities
to poke fun at them and get them to utter things they will soon regret having
said. The short play abounds in
comedy and satire and Thị Hến is an attractive, eminently
likable heroine, making this a favorite play down to our own times.
Thị Sến hides her first visitor while entertaining her second. |
Lampooning pompous
and venal officials and other “pillars of society” was not restricted to occasional
plucky heroines like Thị Hến, but was an integral part of
most chèo plays. Even serious stories of classic heroes
had scenes of comic relief, with the humor based on social satire. And the sympathetic depictions of
characters like Thiệt Thê and Xúy Vân, who go beyond the norms of
society, all but encourage “subversive” thoughts in the audience. No wonder the grave, seriously
conservative Confucian authorities banished chèo
from the Court.
But they didn’t try to
extirpate it from the countryside. Kings and courtiers could do without
artificial entertainment, especially the social criticism and satire, but it
remained essential to village life.
Like the movies of contemporary times, traditional chèo dramas could offer its audiences not only escape into
fantasies from the pressures of everyday life, but characters they could
emulate and, for the women in the audience, perhaps identify with as models for
seeking
“subversive” improvements in the conditions of their own lives.
the clever and attractive Thị Sến |
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