Chinese Company Lives to Dance Again

The history of the National Dance Company of China has resembled life on a trampoline.

Known in its homeland as Dong Fang Ge Wu Tuan (Oriental Song and Dance Ensemble), the troupe was founded in 1962 by Chinese political hero and then Premier Chou En-lai.

Five years later, during the chaos of China’s so-called Cultural Revolution, the acclaimed company was found guilty of serving the bourgeoisie and forced to disband, its dancers, singers and musicians exiled to work in the rice fields.

This fall from grace ended in 1977 when, its supposed sins decriminalized, the company and its founding director, Madame Wang Kun, were restored to glory. The company opens the mainland portion of its first U.S. tour with a three-night engagement at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in Los Angeles beginning Thursday.

At an orientation stop in Berkeley, where the ensemble will perform after its Los Angeles dates, Wang spoke of the company’s goals and vicissitudes in an interview conducted through an official translator assigned to the company by the Chinese government.

Wang, whose husband, Zhou Wei Chi, is a former vice minister of culture, is herself a three-time elected member of the National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultive Conference as well as being known throughout China as an opera star.

“The ‘60s was a very difficult time for China,” she recalled. “Starvation was widespread and our diplomatic relations were restricted mainly to the countries of Africa and Asia.”

“The purpose of this company was, and is, to bring about friendlier connections with these countries by introducing them to Chinese culture, and by learning their music and dance to show to the people of China.”

In America, however, the 55 touring performers--selected from the more than 300 members of the Beijing company--will not be presenting any of their repertory from countries as diverse as Bali and various African nations. Instead, the performances here will concentrate on dances and songs from China’s many regions and from the country’s more than 50 ethnic groups.

Among the exceptions will be a rendition of “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” played on authentic Chinese instruments, and a vocal set by pop singer Cheng Fang Yuan, who is known as “the Linda Ronstadt of China.” Cheng, whose English-language recordings are hot sellers in China, represents “the trend of what is happening in China today,” according to director Wang.

That trend, which from some descriptions sounds like a Chinese version of glasnost and perestroika, has also had other effects on the ensemble’s music. “It is still based on Chinese traditional music,” Wang explained, “but it has absorbed some Western influences in the instrumentation and such.”

The reason for the change is quite simple, according to Wang. “If we play only the Chinese traditional music, the young people will not attend. They want a faster beat and more rhythms!”

Even offstage, the trend toward modernization was evident. The women of the company appeared in an array of fashionable summer dresses, skirts and blouses that could have been found in any popular woman’s magazine.

The male dancers, equally up-to-date, favored the casual look of denim jackets and acid-washed blue jeans. Only the members of the orchestra, many of whom are significantly older than the dancers, echoed the past with the somber formality of dark slacks and jackets.

Later, after a perfunctory staging-rehearsal-cum-photo-session, all remaining reserve disappeared as the dancers and their director boarded a bus for a quick tour of San Francisco’s favorite tourist delights.

The giddiness of a busload of performers away from home took on a universality that made running translations almost unnecessary. One company member after another, including director Wang, took the microphone of the tour bus’ public address system to deliver comic monologues in broad imitations of various Chinese regional dialects.

The spirit of openness was also evidenced by the lack of obvious security and surveillance, as the performers posed each other for souvenir snapshots in front of statues, buildings and bridges, gawked at Sunday skateboard showoffs in Golden Gate Park and generally mingled freely with throngs of fellow tourists.

Official translator Zhang Hong seemed confused when asked about the possibility of dancer defections. “Many of them are planning to go abroad to study further after this performing tour is over,” she explained. “But why would they want to leave China? They are well-known, respected and well taken care of. Here they would be nothing.”

The privileged status of the artists was reaffirmed by Wang. “Before,” she said, “the individual was not emphasized. Even if one person choreographed a dance, everyone’s name had to be credited. Even the leading dancers’ names were not mentioned--while in the U.S. or the Soviet Union, even a monkey’s name or a tiger’s name is mentioned in the credits.”

“Now, the individual stands out. That is a very good change,” she declared. “Because if there is no individual, there is no group!”

The change, she explained, is necessary if the National Dance Company of China’s work, an eclectic mixture of decorative, classical Chinese stagings, Western balletic touches and wildly athletic stunts, is to be recognized as an art form “beyond the Chinese acrobats and the Chinese circus.

“Real art can stand the test of time,” Wang said, “and real art will not disappoint the people.”