Huang Chun-ming (黃春明), who published his first story in 1956 and has since established himself as a major proponent of Taiwan's "nativist literature movement" (鄉土文學), will lead a production of Strawmen and Sparrows (稻草人與小麻雀), which opens tonight at the National Theater in Taipei.
In this production, based on a script written by Huang in 1993, the main characters are sparrows. These mischievous little birds prey on the rice fields of an old farmer, a role played by Huang himself. To stop the sparrows eating his crop, the farmer puts out 10 scarecrows. The sparrows convince the scarecrows that they are actually useful, saying that while they do feed on crops, they also eat insects that damage the crops. The scarecrows, convinced by this argument, proceed to act as an early warning system for the sparrows, alerting them when the farmer approaches.
Huang's work has always shown a strong sense of Taiwanese identity. As a child of rural Taiwan, Huang - who wrote, directs and performs in this play - has been lauded for his portrayal of the joys and many sorrows of Taiwan's Everyman, and for his sharp ear for the local vernacular. But it is his humanism that ensures his longevity.
PHOTO: COURTESY OF NTCH
As an early proponent of environ-mental issues in Taiwan, it's no surprise that Huang's most recent theater production offers more than just entertainment value, but is also a cheerful meditation on the relationship between humans and the natural world. This concern for community and nature provides depth that makes his dramas entertaining for adults as well as children.
The actors in the play are part of Huang's Big Fish Children's Theater (黃大魚兒童劇團), which is currently based in the director's home county of Ilan. The group is different from most other children's groups in that it is children, rather than adults, performing for children. The production has a cast of over 30 singers and dancers, including the Lan Yang Dancers (蘭陽舞蹈團).
Though best known as a novelist, Huang has gravitated toward children's literature in later life. His most famous story, Erzi de Dawan'ou (兒子的大玩偶), was adapted by director Hou Hsiao-hsien (侯孝賢) for the 1983 film The Sandwich Men.
PHOTO: COURTESY OF NTCH
Dec. 16 to Dec. 22 Growing up in the 1930s, Huang Lin Yu-feng (黃林玉鳳) often used the “fragrance machine” at Ximen Market (西門市場) so that she could go shopping while smelling nice. The contraption, about the size of a photo booth, sprayed perfume for a coin or two and was one of the trendy bazaar’s cutting-edge features. Known today as the Red House (西門紅樓), the market also boasted the coldest fridges, and offered delivery service late into the night during peak summer hours. The most fashionable goods from Japan, Europe and the US were found here, and it buzzed with activity
During the Japanese colonial era, remote mountain villages were almost exclusively populated by indigenous residents. Deep in the mountains of Chiayi County, however, was a settlement of Hakka families who braved the harsh living conditions and relative isolation to eke out a living processing camphor. As the industry declined, the village’s homes and offices were abandoned one by one, leaving us with a glimpse of a lifestyle that no longer exists. Even today, it takes between four and six hours to walk in to Baisyue Village (白雪村), and the village is so far up in the Chiayi mountains that it’s actually
These days, CJ Chen (陳崇仁) can be found driving a taxi in and around Hualien. As a way to earn a living, it’s not his first choice. He’d rather be taking tourists to the region’s attractions, but after a 7.4-magnitude earthquake struck the region on April 3, demand for driver-guides collapsed. In the eight months since the quake, the number of overseas tourists visiting Hualien has declined by “at least 90 percent, because most of them come for Taroko Gorge, not for the east coast or the East Longitudinal Valley,” he says. Chen estimates the drop in domestic sightseers after the
It’s a discombobulating experience, after a Lord of the Rings trilogy that was built, down to every frame and hobbit hair, for the big screen, to see something so comparatively minor, small-scaled and TV-sized as The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim. The film, set 183 years before the events of The Hobbit, is a return to Middle-earth that, despite some very earnest storytelling, never supplies much of an answer as to why, exactly, it exists. Rohirrim, which sounds a little like the sound an orc might make sneezing, is perhaps best understood as a placeholder for further cinematic