Shaw Festival 2024/ The Orphan of Chao, translated and adapted by Michael Man, based on the classical Chinese drama, The Great Revenge of the Zhao Orphan, by Ji Junxiang, directed by Courtney Ch’ng Lancaster, Royal George Theatre, closes Oct. 5. Tickets here.
The Shaw Festival’s production of The Orphan of Chao is enthralling theatre in every sense of the word. In fact, this production is one of the most memorable in the festival’s history.
It is also a very gutsy choice for the lunchtime slot, which is usually devoted to lighter fare. Instead, we are treated to an ancient Chinese revenge play that features an inordinate amount of death encased in aspects of ritualistic Chinese opera.
What, then, makes this story so compelling?
The answer is found in a value system that is completely foreign to Western thinking. In fact, the moral code that drives this play fascinates us because it both shocks and surprises in equal measure.
The Orphan of Chao is based on historical events that happened nearly 3,000 years ago. It was the 13th century Confucian scholar, Ji Junxiang, who fashioned the tale into a Chinese opera called The Great Revenge of the Zhao Orphan.
In turn, the drama was brought to France in the 1730s by the Jesuit missionary, Father Joseph Henri Prémare, making it the first Chinese drama to be translated into a European language. The Shaw production world premiere has been adapted by company member Michael Man.
At the heart of the matter is revenge, but revenge like we have never seen before.
The Story
In the Kingdom of Jin, there are two rival courtiers. Not only does the power-hungry General Tu-An Ku want to get rid of the incorruptible Minister Chao Tun, he also wants to wipe out the entire Chao clan, killing over 300 of its members. There is, however, one survivor — Chao Tun’s little grandson.
The bulk of the play details the lengths that people go through to keep the child alive so that when he comes of age, the orphan of Chao can exact revenge on the General. Thus, vengeance trumps everything, with the child’s protectors adhering to the principle of clan loyalty above and beyond everything else. That is the greatest virtue.
What is so confounding about the story from a Western perspective are the sacrifices that people make on behalf of both the Orphan and the Chao clan.
An assassin sent by the General kills himself rather than kill Chao Tun when he realizes the latter’s devotion to the state. Han Ju, a protege of Chao Tun, kills himself rather than reveal the Orphan’s whereabouts.
When the General threatens to kill every baby boy in the kingdom, Cheng Ying, a doctor and retainer of Chao Tun’s, and Chao Tun’s friend, Gongsun Chujiu, fashion a plan to save the Orphan. The latter will come forward and claim that Cheng Ying’s son is the Orphan, and of course, both are killed.
Thus, Cheng Ying gives up his own son, so that the Orphan can take his place!
The story gets even darker. The General takes a liking to Cheng Ying’s son (aka the Orphan) and adopts him, with the two forging a deep bond. Nonetheless, when the Orphan comes of age and Cheng Ying tells him who he really is, Cheng Bo, as the Orphan is called, kills the General, a man he loves, as it is his duty.
As one sacrifice followed another, I found myself looking on in disbelief, but as Wai-Lee Yi states in his program notes, what is jarring to a Western audience would have been perfectly understandable and accepted in Ji Junxiang’s time. It is, as Yi says, the imperative of vengeance that is the just cause and the overriding driver of events.
The Production
What gilds the lily is how this tale unfolds on the stage, and director Courtney Ch’ng Lancaster and her creative partners have crafted a magnificent production.
The presentation is very ritualistic, which is underlined by composer Heidi Wai Yee Chan’s evocative Chinese opera-influenced score. As well, Lancaster cleverly infuses her staging with aspects of Chinese Opera, such as the dramatic play of fabric to denote birth and death. There are also provocative references to modern day protests such as those occurring in Hong Kong.
Designer Jareth Li’s adaptable set has the backdrop of a sepia landscape, fronted by an iron gate that can be moved into various positions as needed, while his muted lighting conjures up the past.
Christine Ting-Huan Urquhart’s wonderful costumes have a timeless quality because they are a mix of traditional and contemporary dress. Every character is given his or her due. For example, Cheng Ying is very much clothed in antique garb, while Cheng Bo, the Orphan, has a modern day bomber jacket.
Playwright Man structured his excellent script with both narration and scenes which lends itself to ritual storytelling. This involves the actors moving deftly between various characters and lightning fast costume changes, gender not withstanding.
To mount this play, the Shaw Festival cast six very fine Asian-Canadian actors, and while all of them play several parts, key roles stand out — Jonathan Tan as the villainous General, Donna Soares as the selfless Cheng Ying, John Ng as the equally loyal Gongsun Chujiu, and Eponine Lee as the Orphan. Richard Lee and Lindsay Wu complete the talented ensemble.
Suffice it to say that you could hear a pin drop in the theatre, so enwrapped was the audience in the play, and the instantaneous standing ovation that followed was a tribute to the very special performance that we had just witnessed.
The lasting impression? I am still grappling with moral code at the heart of the story.
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