CHINESE MAGIC REVUE IN WESTWOOD

The strangest Chinese puzzle in the so-called Chinese Magic Revue Wednesday at the Westwood Playhouse was one of nomenclature: why a company that had dazzled audiences and reviewers (including this one) in previous visits as the Chinese Magic Circus of Taiwan was now adopting a confusing new identity.

In a nearly useless house program, the word Taiwan appeared nowhere (through an oversight, said a company spokesman), and neither did the names of any performers, some obviously world- class at their arcane specialties.

Consider venerable Yue Sun Lin, who kept a plate spinning on top of a long trident that he balanced on his forehead while rotating four hoops on his arms. He also set a bottle rolling, flipping, teetering on a dowel that he held in his mouth and, later, bending backwards, supported triple stacked trays of eggs and water glasses on a pole held in his mouth--knocking the eggs into the glasses with posts.

Also consider versatile Sun Ming Lu, who appeared as half of a dancing lion (the front end), one-fifth of a spectacular tumbling team that dived through flaming dagger-pierced hoops, part of a trio of plate-spinning clowns and the centerpiece of a kung fu display in which he bent steel rods with his bare throat, wound and unwound them on his neck and then broke bricks with both hands and head.

Do people who have clearly devoted their lives to mastering such bizarre challenges deserve to remain anonymous? And where are the Guinness scorekeepers when we really need them?

Other flash acts in a fast-moving performance included Te Long Chang, a sword swallower who ingested a tubular light bulb so we could appreciate his skill from the inside ; unicyclist Chin Kuei Chu, who had audience members hurl limes at him and caught them on a knife held in his mouth; Ching Hsiang Yuan, who balanced a pole on her feet and gave two colleagues a ride on it; and Ying Fo Shu, who performed a version of the ubiquitous tower (or pagoda) of chairs without safety cables.

Liabilities? A few minor ones: The canned music sounded tinny, most of the dances looked none too accomplished and the single magic act (Ken Mei Hai pulling watches and people from unlikely containers) had no real pace or style.

But, beyond the level of individual acts, the exciting coordinated routines (nine people on a moving bicycle, 12 in a gymnastic frieze) and emphasis on audience participation confirmed that, whatever you call it, this company has a high-energy, meet-the-people personality unlike any other.

The Chinese Magic Revue will be at the Westwood Playhouse until Aug. 17, time enough for the troupe’s more jittery members (contortionist Ho Chu Chang, for instance) to settle down--and time enough for audiences to be able to compare these hard-working Taiwanese virtuosi with their relatively easygoing mainland counterparts (the Chongqing Acrobats) currently at Magic Mountain.