FESTIVAL ’90 : The Curtain Rises Again for Chinese Defector : Hua Wenyi and Two Other Opera Artists Will Make Their First U.S. Appearances This Weekend

In China in 1987, Hua Wenyi won a Plum Blossom Award, an honor comparable to an Oscar in America. Today the actress, regarded in much the same way Western audiences view Elizabeth Taylor and Helen Hayes, cooks and keeps house in Monterey Park, occasionally works for a dry cleaner and teaches Kun opera for a living in Monterey Park.

“I don’t find it difficult adjusting to life in America,” she said, having spent years doing chores for the husband and daughter she left in Shanghai.

Dubbed “Little Mei Lanfang” after the late, internationally renowned Beijing opera artist, Hua, 46, was director of the 160-member Shanghai Kunju Company from 1985-87.

On the troupe’s fourth U.S. visit 16 months ago, Hua and seven others “disappeared” on July 26, 1989, from their San Francisco hotel rooms, several days before their scheduled departure.

They took advantage of President Bush’s directive allowing Chinese nationals to stay because of the massacre in Tian An Men Square. “It was an opportunity for me. I was tired of the hectic performing schedule in China and wanted to learn new things here,” Hua said, speaking in Mandarin during an interview at her apartment.

Over the next four months, their whereabouts were a mystery. News services reported the eight were hiding in San Francisco, New York City and Washington.

But some of them, including Chen Tongshen, 43, were hiding with friends in Los Angeles. Although “shaking with fear” for the first few months, he eventually applied for a Social Security card and found a job as a cook in a Chinese restaurant in Los Angeles in November.

Chen, Hua and fellow defector Zhong Weide, 50, now plan to make their first U.S. appearances Saturday and Sunday at Japan America Theatre as part of the Los Angeles Festival’s evening of Kun opera, a program reuniting seven of eight performers here for the first time since July, 1989.

Although called a “national treasure” in China as star of its oldest and most elegant form of theater, the 5-foot, 5-inch, 125-pound Hua is little-known in the Southland Chinese community except within Kun opera circles, and she takes her anonymity lightly.

“I don’t need to be known by a lot of people,” she said. “I want to perform less and teach more, and I think I have a better chance of doing that here.”

After more than two decades onstage, Hua would rather let younger actresses take the limelight, she said. In China, few people entered Kun opera during the Cultural Revolution of the ‘60s, and without experienced performers to fill roles, artists in their 40s were required to fulfill a demanding schedule.

The workload took its toll. “It’s been a hard life. . . . At that pace, I would probably (have) only continued for another year or two,” Hua said. “China is a very group-oriented society. Individualism is not tolerated. Modesty is emphasized. No one is (supposed) to take credit for his or her accomplishments. . . . We were expected to do exactly as we were told--the party takes charge of us as if we were children.”

Because of China’s severe housing shortage, Hua, her husband and their 18-year-old daughter, a university freshman majoring in tourism, had been living either with Hua’s in-laws or her parents since they married nearly 19 years ago. Shortly before her decision to defect, Hua and her husband obtained their own small three-room apartment.

In China, her parents’ and family’s reaction toward her decision to defect has been neutral. “They said, ‘It’s up to you, you think it over,’ ” Hua said.

Hoping her daughter will join her in America someday, Hua is unsure whether her husband, who is a Beijing opera actor himself, would want to move to America. She did not have the chance to discuss the matter with him before her defection. Although she had communicated with him since, “It’s been difficult for him to understand my decision” Hua said.

The mayor of Shanghai, Zhu Rongji, urged her to return during his recent visit to Los Angeles, she said. “I replied that I love my country and will go back some day. But meanwhile, I see nothing wrong with staying to introduce Kun opera to the people here who liked my show and wanted to learn.”

She has not heard from Zhu since, and he was the only Chinese official who has ever contacted her concerning her defection. She claims she no longer worries about her safety. “The Chinese overnment seems pretty open about (defection) these days,” Hua said.

Zhong also worked for menial wages, managing a Los Angeles motel. Known for his “painted face” role, he will play a Buddhist monk who danced to oblivion on country roads after whisking some good wine from a hawker passing by in “Dead Drunk, Lu Zhisheng Practices Martial Arts.”

Chen, dubbed “live Monkey King” because of his well-known portrayal of the fabled character, will play the hero in an episode of his legendary trip to the West. In “The Monkey King Borrows the Fan,” he sought help from a princess to put out a wildfire that prevented him from continuing the journey.

Hua will play a young woman who yearns to break from the constraints of traditional Chinese feudal society in “Strolling in the Garden, Stirred by the Dream.” In it, she falls in love with a handsome young man, but discovers it was all a dream.

Her presence brought about last year’s formation of the Chinese Kun Opera Society in Monterey Park, whose 25 members have been meeting for 10 years. Under Hua’s direction, the group presented “Broken Bridge,” an episode from the “White Snake” legend last June.

She hopes the festival performances would help spread the interest in Chinese Kun opera. “The first few years may not be easy, but it will be worth it in the long run,” she said.

Performances at the Japan America Theatre, 244 S. San Pedro St., begin at 8 p.m. Detailed program notes in English and Chinese will be provided. Ticket information: (213) 623-7400.