U-Theatre (優劇場) founder and director Liu Ruo-yu (劉若瑀) and drumming director Huang Chih-chun (黃誌群) succeeded in bringing the magic of their beloved Laoquanshan (老泉山) home inside in the National Theater on Saturday night.
The Mountain Dawn was simply beautiful — deceptively so. Each element alone was spare and stark: the music, the Gurjieff movements (sacred dancing), the staging, the lighting, the costumes. But mixed gently together, layer upon layer, the result was a quietly satisfying evening.
The six chapters in the show explored a day in the life of the mountain, beginning with a vibrant burst of drumming that heralded a new day. All those drums inside a confined space can get very loud, and at one point you had to feel pity for the di flautist, standing on a riser behind the drummers, but he battled on, his flute soaring above the drums.
Costume designer Tim Yip (葉錦添) gave the troupe a three-piece unisex costume that consisted of close-fitting sleeveless tops, a voluminous skirt that combined wide-legged trousers with front and back panels tied at the waist and a long, open-front robe. The meters of material in the skirts provided floating layers and quiet rustles for the dance segments.
Yip’s muted palette — the lightest and palest of blues and greens — served to complement stage and lighting designer Lin Keh-hua’s (林克華) work, which blazed with rich colors: strong mauves, deep teals, blues, greens and a beautiful pinky-orange that exactly captured the hue of so many sunsets seen in Taipei. The staging was minimal — a raised platform along the back of the stage, a large rock outcropping on the backdrop — so the lighting set the stage for each segment.
While the drumming is what U-Theatre is famous for, the group has increasingly incorporated sacred dancing into its practice over the past 10 years, culminating in the 2006 production River Journey. The precision of the ritual gestures and their quietness was once again used to great effect in the bamboo and night mist segments.
But it was Huang’s sunset solo that stole the show. He slowly started turning, right arm outstretched from the shoulder, hand holding a stick, the first small circle gradually widening until he was traversing the stage. At the apex of each spin, his arm would come down to strike the drum he held under his left arm. He spun and spun and spun and then just stopped. The amazing thing wasn’t just that he hit his mark, it was that he stood stock-still; you could barely see his breathing. And then he walked offstage.
I have only one complaint about The Mountain Dawn: it ended. U-Theatre left the audience wanting more; there was none of the usual edging toward the exits when the company turned to face the audience and took their first bow. People stayed in their seats, clapping hard through five curtain calls, and they would have called the troupe back to the stage again if the theater lights had not come up.
The U-Theatre troupe has a day off today before heading off to Israel for a three-city tour, its second to that country. The company will be back to perform The Mountain Dawn on April 10 and April 11 in Kaohsiung City and then takes a month-long break for a group retreat before performing in Taichung City on May 15 and May 16.
That US assistance was a model for Taiwan’s spectacular development success was early recognized by policymakers and analysts. In a report to the US Congress for the fiscal year 1962, former President John F. Kennedy noted Taiwan’s “rapid economic growth,” was “producing a substantial net gain in living.” Kennedy had a stake in Taiwan’s achievements and the US’ official development assistance (ODA) in general: In September 1961, his entreaty to make the 1960s a “decade of development,” and an accompanying proposal for dedicated legislation to this end, had been formalized by congressional passage of the Foreign Assistance Act. Two
Despite the intense sunshine, we were hardly breaking a sweat as we cruised along the flat, dedicated bike lane, well protected from the heat by a canopy of trees. The electric assist on the bikes likely made a difference, too. Far removed from the bustle and noise of the Taichung traffic, we admired the serene rural scenery, making our way over rivers, alongside rice paddies and through pear orchards. Our route for the day covered two bike paths that connect in Fengyuan District (豐原) and are best done together. The Hou-Feng Bike Path (后豐鐵馬道) runs southward from Houli District (后里) while the
March 31 to April 6 On May 13, 1950, National Taiwan University Hospital otolaryngologist Su You-peng (蘇友鵬) was summoned to the director’s office. He thought someone had complained about him practicing the violin at night, but when he entered the room, he knew something was terribly wrong. He saw several burly men who appeared to be government secret agents, and three other resident doctors: internist Hsu Chiang (許強), dermatologist Hu Pao-chen (胡寶珍) and ophthalmologist Hu Hsin-lin (胡鑫麟). They were handcuffed, herded onto two jeeps and taken to the Secrecy Bureau (保密局) for questioning. Su was still in his doctor’s robes at
Mirror mirror on the wall, what’s the fairest Disney live-action remake of them all? Wait, mirror. Hold on a second. Maybe choosing from the likes of Alice in Wonderland (2010), Mulan (2020) and The Lion King (2019) isn’t such a good idea. Mirror, on second thought, what’s on Netflix? Even the most devoted fans would have to acknowledge that these have not been the most illustrious illustrations of Disney magic. At their best (Pete’s Dragon? Cinderella?) they breathe life into old classics that could use a little updating. At their worst, well, blue Will Smith. Given the rapacious rate of remakes in modern
RSS