About Mei Lanfang (Part II)

NB:

Click here to read the first part of About Mei Lanfang

~~~

Mei Lanfang as a cultural ambassador: Beijing Opera abroad

Mei Lanfang meets American actor Charlie Chaplin

Throughout his artistic career, Mei Lanfang and his operatic troupe toured the world in order to promote and disseminate knowledge about the art of Beijing Opera among the non-initiated people. These tours led Mei to perform three times in Japan (1919; 1924 and 1956), once in the U.S. ( six-month period between 1929 and 1930) and once in the Soviet Union (1935). Each one of those tours was a great success and contributed to enrich the cultural dialogue between China and the other nations. Mei’s performances were reviewed by seminal art critics of the time, and were received with great enthusiasm by the foreign audiences. Through the critics’ commentaries, the art of classical Chinese drama was compared with other kinds of theatres such as the Greek and the Elizabethan ones, with which they thought it shared several characteristics yet retaining its specificities. As we shall see next, most of the reviewers focused on describing the beauty of Mei’s gestures, trying to capture their rationale and symbolic meaning. These reviews, which are less known to the nonspecialists than the so much discussed Brechtian essay, show quite a different approach to understanding the art of Chinese drama. In fact, whereas Brecht ended up projecting his views on how western drama should be changed onto the conventionalities of classical Chinese theatre, and in so doing he operated a cultural displacement (or “refunctioning”, as observed by Min Tian [1]), other critics such as, for instance, the American drama theorist Stark Young, were interested in understanding the essential dynamics of this kind of theatre. They did not try to superimpose a pre-formed theoretic pattern on it but limited themselves to depict and possibly make sense of the Chinese performing art as they saw it, and in the purest manner.

As previously mentioned, Mei Lanfang went three times to Japan to give performances. Whereas the first and the second visit had mostly a cultural resonance, the third trip, which occurred in 1956, namely in the midst of the Maoist period, had a marked political aim, as well. In fact, at that time the diplomatic relations between the 7-year-old PRC and Japan had long been suspended. Mei’s artistic tour was promoted by the then prime minister Zhou Enlai and played a major role in paving the way for the restoration of ties of friendship between the two countries. On that occasion Mei received several compliments by the emperor’s brother, Prince Mikasa, who also thanked him on behalf of the emperor himself.

Mei’s American tour, which took place between 1929 and 1930 was also extremely successful. Yet, it took around four years to organize it. The idea for this project occurred to a group of American tourists who had watched Mei’s performances as early as in 1925. After returning to the U.S., they praised Mei’s artistic dexterity among family and friends, and on the following year the U.S. Minister to China, John Van A. MacMurray invited Mei to perform in America. He also had a chance to see one of Mei’s newly-composed mythological operas, entitled The Red Snake and the Golden Pin. Whilst in the U.S., Mei also had the wonderful opportunity to perform in Broadway. Besides, he met with several big names in the field of criticism, film and the performing arts. Among the notable people who honoured him with their friendship there were famous film stars such as Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, the director Cecil B. de Mille and the Afro-American musician Paul Robeson. Mei also visited many universities where he performed and lectured on classical Chinese drama. His academic activity earned him two honorary doctorates from the University of Southern California and Pomona College.

Mei Lanfang with Afro-American singer Paul Robeson

Mei’s tour in the Soviet Union was organized by the All-Union Society for Cultural Relations with Foreign Countries (VOKS), which invited the Chinese actor to give performances both in Moscow and Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) in March and April 1935, respectively.

Overall, Mei’s role as a cultural ambassador was amply praised and emphasized in the press.

Whilst in the USSR, Mei met several directors, dramatists and drama critics and gave lectures on the acting techniques in Chinese theatre. Amog other things, he gave demonstrations of hand gestures and stage steps, such as the impromptu demonstration given at the Concert Hall in Moscow, which Bertolt Brecht attended and reported in his essay on Alienation effects in classical Chinese drama.

Before the eyes of the world: non-Chinese views on Mei Lanfang’s performing art

U.S. reviewers

John Martin (The New York Times) praised the beauty of Mei’s voice.

John Mason Brown (The New York Evening Post) highlighted the correspondence between Mei’s facial expressions and eye movements and the portrayal of the character’s innermost feelings.

John Brooks Atkinson (The New York Times) stressed the specificity of Beijing Opera with respect to Western drama, with particular attention to its remarkable imaginative power, which he constrasts to the rigidity of our theatres. He maintains that the main difference lies in the performative language characterizing Chinese drama, more than the language proper. He further notices its pictorial quality and therefore likens it to an old Chinese vase or piece of tapestry.

R. D. Skinnen (Commonwealth) observed that Mei’s performing art was not based on symbolism but on something else, which he calls, after Mei Lanfang’s phrasing, “patternism”. He explains that while symbolism, as understood in the West, consists in “representing some object or emotion by some quite different object”, Chinese theatre represents objects and emotions through dedicated patterns abstracted from reality.

Robert Littell (New York World) highighted Mei’s ability to combine several different arts (acting, singing and dancing) into a harmonius whole and in such a way as to transcend the boundaries between these three arts. He then observed, quite correctly, that the combined usage of different arts is an essential feature of Chinese drama as such. Finally, he stated that Mei’s artistic skillfulness is able to transform the stage into a timeless space, whereas his refined acting makes the audience forget that he is a man playing a woman’s role. The critic also compared the visual result of Mei’s quite pictorial kind of acting to an old Chinese painting.

Mary F. Watkins (The Dance Magazine), William Bolitho (New York World) and Ted Shawn praised Mei’s dancing skills, by defining him as a high-class, almost unparalleled dancer.

Stark Young deserves a special mention because he commented on Mei Lanfang’s performing art lenghtily and with great insight in a seminal essay entitled “Mei Lanfang”, which appeared in Theatre Arts Monthly. His comments are precious and worth studying, because they provide food for thought by raising a few interesting points and also because they set themselves as quite an alternative reading to the (certainly more famous) Brechtian analysis.

Concerning Mei Lanfang’s mode of acting, Young insightfully notes that Chinese theatre is not divorced from real life, because the conventional style of acting is actually grounded on the corresponding actions, places and conditions which can be found in everyday life. For instance, he maintains that the emotional shock that he gets from watching the portrayal of death and horror as conveyed by Mei Lanfang is simultaneously stronger than as if he were seeing a photo, and vaguer. This awoval clearly debunks Brecht’s idea that Chinese theatre does not aim at arousing any emotional reactions in the audience.

Further on, Young sets out to describe Mei’s acting skills in great detail and in so doing he acknowledges that it is difficult for the complete newbies to fully understand and appreciate the variety of the conventions used in a Chinese performance. Yet, he is of the opinion that the beauty of those conventional gestures and movements is apparent and can be noticed by everyone.

Still, Stark Young’s most interesting comments concern the issue of realism in Chinese art. To put it simply, he stresses the fact that traditional Chinese drama is not entirely “symbolic” and unrealistic as it might seem. In order to better explain what he means, he draws a parallel between Chinese drama and Chinese painting and sculpture [2]. All these three arts aim to convey only the impression of reality rather than reality as it is, yet, at the same time, they are able to capture the minutest detail of an object, movement or emotion. As Young puts it, “This exact notation is marvellously set into the whole work of art, which taken in its completeness, is ideal and dreamlike. Dexterous realism combined with tradition, convention and abstract pattern.” [3] He further elucidates the essence of Mei Lanfang’s symbolic realism (or realistic symbolism?) by commenting on the latter’s mode of interpreting femininity on stage. Particularly, he observes that Mei’s mode of acting is not aimed at bringing a particular woman to life. Rather, his acting is like a distillation process for he strives to extrapolate and reproduce a range of essential feminine qualities as well as translating them into dance figures, patterns and movements.

Elsewhere in his essay, Young praises Mei’s “idealistic flexibility” [4], which is exemplified in Chinese theatre’s ability to blend the real and the unreal as a means of portraying inner realities such as psychological ghosts, memory, dreams: in other words, the human mind in the profoundest and most accurate way.

Finally, Young indicates Chinese theatre as an example of the “classical mind” because although changes have occurred, they did not occur abruptly. He also points out several elements of comparison between Chinese theatre and ancient Greek drama: “There is the unceasing stylization throughout. There is the intention of beauty, grace or exaltation.” [5] However, Young states that such beauty is not a end in itself, it is not beauty for beauty’s sake but it is aimed at the creation of specific patterns which establish a continuity between an action and the other, a phrase and the other. This helps create an essence, a soul that makes the performance all the more fluid and, utimately, all the more enjoyable.

Min Tian further notices that Stark Young had a chance to meet Mei in his hotel (in the company of Qi Rushan) and Mei confirmed all his impressions on Chinese theatre [6].

U.S.S.R. reviewers

Karl Radek (Izvestia): despite the language barriers, Mei was successful in engaging the audience’s attention to the point that they were all spellbound by his artistic charm.

S. Radlov: he highlighted the emotional quality of Chinese theater, namely its ability to give an accurate psychological portrait of a character.

Bertolt Brecht*** (see my previous articles here and here)

Konstantin Stanislavsky: he and Mei met several times to discuss and exchange their theatrical experiences. They soon became good friends. Stanislavsky defined Mei’s art as “free movement guided by the laws of the art”.

Vsevolod Meyerhold: he applauded Mei Lanfang’s ability to portray true femininity on stage even better than a female performer could do. He also likened Chinese theatre to Pushkin’s quote that “dramatic art is based on unverisimilitude”, and went on to says that “Whoever sees the work of Dr. Mei Lan-fang will tell that the great power of rhythm this ingenious master of the stage displays is not felt on our stage. […] We do not have a sense of time.” [7] In a conversation with student graduates of GITIS (The Russian Academy of Theatre Arts), he maintained that Chinese theatre is based on movement. Besides, he recognises a realistic substratum in the movements performed in both Japanese and Chinese theatres.

Sergeij Ejzenštein: he made a few scenes of one of Mei’s plays into a movie, which has regrettably gone lost. He even gave to Mei a copy of a British journal (Close Up), which featured an article of his entitled “The Principle of Film Form” and which he dedicated to the Chinese performer “the greatest master of form”. Most importantly, he wrote an article in praise of Mei Lanfang’s charming theatrical art and defined the great Chinese actor as “The Enchanter of the Pear Garden”. In this essay he stresses the symbolic quality of Mei’s art, downplaying the realistic overtones: “pure realism is removed from the performance and the realistic atmosphere is banished from the stage.” [8] Next, he describes some of the techniques for depicting certain actions such as passing through a door, sleeping, fighting (duels), and eating. He concludes by the idea of learning from Chinese drama in order to enrich their pathway toward socialist-realism.

Sergei Tretyakov: in his article “Mei Lanfang – Our Guest”, he states that “His [Mei’s] embodiment of the female form becomes more psychological than the iconic image of classical theatre.” [9]

~~~

*** Bertolt Brecht was a German national but at the time Mei Lanfang visited the Soviet Union he was on voluntary exile in Moscow.

~~~

Endnotes

[1] See Min Tian’s essay “The Effect of Displacement: Bertolt Brecht’s Interpretation and Refunctioning of Mei Lanfang’s Art”, in Tian, Min (ed.). China’s greatest operatic actor of female roles: documenting the life and art of Mei Lanfang 1894-1961. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, c2010.

[2] A similar parallelism was highlighted by Huang Zuolin, who extended the concept of xieyi 写意 (to capture the essence), which is typical of Chinese painting, to the Chinese theatrical art as well.

[3] Young, Stark. “Mei Lan-fang”, in Tian, Min (ed.). China’s greatest operatic actor of female roles: documenting the life and art of Mei Lanfang 1894-1961. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, c2010, 121.

[4] Ibid., 123.

[5] Ibid., 127.

[6] Ibid., 129.

[7] Meyerhold, Vsevolod. “On Mei Lan-fang: Artist on Tour”, in Tian, Min (ed.). China’s greatest operatic actor of female roles: documenting the life and art of Mei Lanfang 1894-1961. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, c2010, 143-44.

[8] Ejzenštein, Sergeij. “The Magician of The Pear Orchard”, in Tian, Min (ed.). China’s greatest operatic actor of female roles: documenting the life and art of Mei Lanfang 1894-1961. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, c2010, 155.

[9] Tretyakov, Sergeij. “Mei Lan-fang – Our Guest”, in Tian, Min (ed.). China’s greatest operatic actor of female roles: documenting the life and art of Mei Lanfang 1894-1961. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, c2010, 160.

Bibliographic Details

Tian, Min (ed.). China’s greatest operatic actor of female roles: documenting the life and art of Mei Lanfang 1894-1961. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, c2010.

Wu, Zuguang, Huang Zuolin, and Mei Shaowu. Peking Opera and Mei Lanfang: a guide to China’s traditional theatre and the art of its great master. Beijing, China: New World Press, 1981.

The Enchanter(s) from The Pear Garden: Chinese Response(s) to Brecht

NB: Click here and here to read the first and the second part of this study.

Introduction: classical Chinese drama from within

In the same year in which Brecht published his essay on Alienation effects in Chinese drama (1936), the Russian director Sergeij Ejzenštein wrote an article in praise of Mei Lanfang, whom he nicknamed as The Enchanter from the Pear Garden. Ejzenštein was among the lucky people who, like Brecht, had the opportunity to watch not only Mei’s performances but also his impromptu demonstration, which he gave at the Concert Hall in Moscow as part of his 1935 tour in the Soviet Union.

Ejzenštein is circled in red, whereas Mei is marked in green.

The purpose of Ejzenštein’s article, which is significantly entitled “The Enchanter from the Pear Garden”, is to introduce Mei Lanfang, his work and the art of traditional Chinese theatre, as its subtitle would suggest. Particularly, Ejzenštein aims to present the theoretical and philosophical matter informing such a unique theatrical tradition. As we shall see next, the approach taken by the Russian director in this essay is diametrically opposed to Brecht’s, which I have documented in part 1 and part 2 of this study. To sum up, Brecht limited himself to capture those external details that, in his opinion at least, would confirm the effectiveness of his theory of estrangement/alienation effect. In reality, Brecht’s description of Chinese drama as “estranging” or “alienating” probably stems from his watching the Chinese performance with the eyes and attitude of an “uninitiated tourist”. In this sense, it would seem that Ejzenštein’s article was written in order to challenge the attitude with which Brecht addresses Mei’s performing art as if he knew perfectly its inner dynamics. For Ejzenštein, one cannot illustrate the art of the Chinese actor by simply making a list of the peculiarities that “strike the superficial and unprepared tourist accustomed to the routine of the European stage” (762). Rather, it deserves to be explored in greater depth in order to be able to penetrate its most concealed aspects, and to extrapolate its innermost meanings. In sum, Ejzenštein‘s essay contains an important proposal, namely to cast a fresh look at Chinese drama from “within”. If one abandons the perspective of the “foreign tourist”, by exploring the motivations behind the apparent symbolism of Chinese acting (which is quite different from Western symbolism and from Brecht’s notion of Gestik), one can realize that for the Chinese audience, the theatre functions as a surreal space in which the actors bring forth a great mystery: this is the human being itself, which is depicted through the portrayal of its innermost feelings and transfigured through the intensity of poetry. 

In this article, I intend to further develop Ejzenštein‘s observations by examining Chinese views on indigenous Chinese drama in order to show that emotional identification between actor and character is an essential task for a Chinese performer, because it is aimed at achieving a better aesthetic result. Therefore, what follows is a catalogue of Chinese theatre critics, theorists and performers of all times and their ideas on theatre. We shall start with Mei Lanfang.

Mei Lanfang: acting means to comprehend

One of the crucial aspects of traditional Chinese performance is the complete transformation of the actor into the character (s)he is supposed to interpret. This is important in order to ensure the beauty and refinement of the performance and should be preceded by a full study of the character’s personality and interiority, which is usually reflected in the lyrics that the actor has to sing [1]. During a talk that Mei Lanfang delivered for the students of the China Academy of Traditional Theatre in 1960, he pointed out the following:

If an actor does not understand the meaning of the lyrics, he cannot empathize with the true character of the role he plays. […] After I understood the meaning of the lyrics, it still took me a long time to fully understand and identify with my character.” (in Fei, 143)

The above quote makes it clear that for Mei acting means first and foremost to analyse and fully comprehend the character. It then means to scrutinise every single nuance of his/her temperament, and to study his/her socio-historical background. Finally, it means that the actor should synthesise skilfully all these aspect into a comprehensive, articulated whole. The scope here is to make characterisation even more vivid and expressive. Particularly, the actor must be able to reproduce with extreme precision the multiple contrasts that mould the inner life of the character and make him/her a truly unique and unrepeatable human being [2].
In the same talk, Mei recalled two different roles he embodied several times during his career, namely Du Liniang [3] and Wang Baochuan [4]. These are both female characters belonging to the same theatrical type, the so-called guimendan 闺门旦 or young and accomplished lady of high descent. Despite the similar character-type, Mei stresses the fact that Liniang and Baochuan have two distinct personalities, which cause them to react in different ways vis-à-vis the same difficult situation. In fact, both of them reject the feudal marriage conventions, yet whereas Liniang’s struggle is confined to her mind, Baochuan has the courage to act. This important difference demands to be brought forth during the performance and can be carried out only through an accurate study of the characters’ different psychological disposition and life experiences (in Fei, 144-145).

Another important evidence of the fact that traditional Chinese drama is grounded on a sort of “creative mood”, which guides and gives meaning to the grammar of its conventional gestures is contained in an anecdote recounted by Huang Zuolin 黄佐临 (1906-1994). He tells about a famous Beijing Opera actress who had studied under Mei Lanfang’s supervision, specialising in playing the part of Luo, the female protagonist of a play entitled “The river goddess” (Luo shen 洛神). After his first performance, she was greatly appreciated for her artistic talent and everyone in the audience agreed on her ability to imitate her teacher in every detail, copying every gestures and intonation. Nevertheless, there was a critic who pointed out that she failed to imitate that sylph-like bearing, which Mei had rendered so gracefully on stage. After inquiring around about how to perform with that sylph-like attitude, she suddenly understood what that critic really meant, as someone told her that whereas Mei performed the part of Luo, she performed the part of Mei playing that role. As noted by Huang, from this example one can easily understand that the true essence of Chinese theatre lies in the creative inner force rather than in its external manifestation, which matches Mei’s ideas on drama as reported above [5].

To conclude, the two pillars of classical Chinese acting according to Mei are authenticity and psychological truth. Below, we shall see how these two principles can be found, again, in the dramatic theory of the Ming and Qing ages.

Ming and Qing Theatres: the importance of transformation and the aesthetics of emotions

The first critic I shall mention here is Li Yu 李渔 (1611-1680?), also known as Li Liweng, who was a drama critic, playwright and director of the late Ming and early Qing dynasty, remembered also for having set up an all-female drama troupe. As a drama critic, Li Yu wrote a series of essays on theatre, which are included in a miscellaneous work titled “Casual Notes on a leisurely Mood” (Xianqing ouji 闲情偶记). Overall, Li Yu maintains that character impersonation is one of the toughest challenges for every performer, because its success depends on the way in which the latter manages the relationship between “emotion” (qing 情) and “scene” (jing 景). Here “qing” stands for the character as a cluster of unique and unrepeatable perceptions and sensations, whereas “jing” indicates the events that involve him/her from without and determine his/her reactions. In this respect, Li Yu recommends to avoid stereotypes, which denote superficiality and insufficient empathy. Moreover, he states that an actor is required to put himself into the character’s shoes and experience directly his emotions in order to be able to portray them on stage with the necessary accuracy. Interestingly, as he mentions that “I put myself in my character’s shoes and try to feel and think like him when I write the words for him to speak. (in Fei, 81)”, he very much resembles Gustave Flaubert, the master of 19th-century French realism, who tasted arsenic in order to be able to describe Madame Bovary’s feelings after taking the poison that would kill her. Furthermore, Li yu notes that in order to avoid artificiality, a (female) actor should forget that she is acting on the stage and “try to get get closer to her character inwardly” because “if she lives that part the female performer will win praises because she embodies his spirit and expresses his emotions truthfully and accurately. (87)”

Zhang Dai 张岱 (1598-1685?) [6] and Ji Yun 纪昀 (1724-1805), two drama critics and writers, also expressed a similar stance. Particularly, Zhang Dai, who also wrote some librettos, commented on and praised the acting style of an actress named Zhu Chusheng, who was renowned for the elegance and expressivity of her interpretations. He notes that “sometimes she became so involved with the emotional life of her characters that she forgot herself. (in Fei, 71)” Similarly, Ji Yun reported the answer that an anonymous actor of female roles gave to justify his extraordinary talent: “I always put myself in the shoes of my characters, completely identifying with their emotions: happiness, anger, sorrow, or joy as well as kindness, resentment, love, or hate. (in Fei, 90).”

Ji Yun

All these comments clearly contribute to highlight Brecht’s biggest mistake whereby “these problems [i.e. those connected to the process of complete conversion of the actor into the character) are unknown to the Chinese performer, for he rejects complete conversion.” (94)

Ding Yaokang 丁耀亢 (1607-78), a dramatist from Shandong, composed a series of annotations about the main do’s and dont’s of playwrighting. In particular, he recommended that the playwright must astonish people, amaze them “in order truly to touch and move them. (in Fei, 76)”

Pan Zhiheng 潘之恒 (1556-1622), a poet of the late Ming dynasty who was extremely passionate about theatre, wrote a book where he collected his own observations on dramatic art. This book would later become a classic of acting theory. After watching a performance of The Peony Pavilion, he commented on the actors’ performance by stressing the fact that both performers seemed “possessed by the emotions of the role” and “also capable of physically enacting their love in a completely natural and unaffected manner. (in Fei, 59)”

Huang Fanchuo 黄幡绰, who was a 18th-century actor, composed a treatise on dramatic theory, which is significantly entitled “Pear Garden Basics” Liyuan yuan 梨园元. Here, he mentions the eights principles of movement and expression and particularly stresses the importance of eye movements, which play a crucial role in ensuring the eloquence and expressivity of the performance. As he notes, “you should let your eyes take the lead – that is, to give priority to using your eyes expressively to indicate emotions as well as situations. The old saying is right: ‘When the eyes are expressive, the face becomes the window of your heartfelt sentiment.’ (in Fei, 98)”

Last but not least, Tang Xianzu 汤显祖 (1550-1616), a contemporary of Shakespeare and author of the famous play “The Peony Pavilion” (mentioned above). In an epigraph dedicated to the theatre master Qing Yuan, Tang expresses his view of drama as the dimension in which dreams are created and where the audience is given the opportunity to experience, through the actors’ performance, the sweetness of the illusions that make ordinary people forget about themselves for a moment and set their imagination free. Particularly, he maintains that, since the goal of drama is to represent human sentiments and emotions in such a way as to encourage the people to correct their shortcomings and lead a virtuous life, it can then contribute to the strenghtening of the social order. As he notes, “the spectators react simultaneously and differently. […] The rich and the privileged put aside their arrogance, even the poor and miserly vie to make charitable contributions. The blind hunger for sight, the deaf crave for sound, the mute want to shout, and the lame want to run. The impassive become passionate; the reticent speak with eloquence. The silent make noise; the noisy grow silent. The hungry feel sated; the drunk sober up. People walking stop; people sleeping wake up. The coarse become refined; the foolish become intelligent. (in Fei, 56)”

Tang Xianzu

Needless to say, Tang’s words, jointly with all the remarks expressed by Chinese drama theorists of all times cited above, further confirm the idea that the Chinese actors, far from being “drug-sellers”, as Brecht would say, are rather “enchanters”: the enchanters from the Pear Garden.

NB: If you want to know more about the details of Brecht’s cultural misunderstanding, just wait for the next and last part of my study on Brecht and Chinese drama, which is entitled “Unveiling Chinese Drama: What Brecht did not see”.

Endnotes

[1] In traditional Chinese drama (xiqu 戏曲) singing is an essential part of the performance. That is why in English Chinese theatre is usually known as Chinese opera.

[2] For more information on Mei’s ideas on acting see also my previous article.

[3] Du Liniang is the female protagonist of “The Peony Pavilion” (Mudan ting 牡丹亭), a play by Ming dynasty playwright Tang Xianzu 汤显祖 (1550-1616)

[4] Wang Baochuan is the female protagonist of a traditional play entitled “The Red-Maned Steed” (Hongzong liema 红鬃劣马).

[5] This episode is narrated in Huang’s seminal essay titled “Mei Lanfang, Stanislavsky, Brecht – A Study in Contrasts” (see bibliography below). In my dissertation I read the original Chinese version (梅兰芳, 斯坦尼斯拉夫斯基, 布莱希特戏剧观比较) which I found in the website of the Mei Lanfang Memorial Museum. Regrettably, the link to the correspondent webpage is no longer available, therefore in the bibliography I put the translated version.

[6] He wrote a collections of essays on drama, which is entitled “Tao Hut Dream Memoirs” (Tao’an mengyi 桃庵梦忆).

Bibliographic Details

Alongside my BA dissertation, in writing this article I have relied on the following sources:

Brecht, Bertolt. “Alienation Effects in Chinese Acting”. Willett, John (ed. and trans.). Brecht on Theatre. London: Methuen Drama, 2001.

Ejzenštein Sergej. “The Enchanter from the Pear Garden”, in Theatre Arts Monthly, 19 October 1936, 761-770.

Fei Faye Chunfang. Chinese theories of theater and performance from Confucius to the present, Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1999.

Huang, Zuolin. Mei Lanfang, Stanislavsky, Brecht – A Study in Contrasts. Wu, Zuguang, Huang Zuolin, and Mei Shaowu (ed.). Peking Opera and Mei Lanfang: a guide to China’s traditional theatre and the art of its great master. Beijing, China: New World Press, 1981.

Mei Lanfang梅兰芳. Wutai Shenghuo Sishi Nian: Mei Lanfang Huiyi Lu 舞台生活四十年: 梅兰芳回忆录 (Forty Years of Life on the Stage), Tuanjie Chubanshe 团结出版社, Beijing, 2008.