Jing Wei: poetry in words, poetry in motion

GuoGuang Opera Company and Hung Dance
Taiwan Traditional Theatre Center, Taipei
April 27, 2025

中文

“He was both a patriot and a traitor, a revolutionary and a poet, a charismatic leader and a melancholic soul.” So wrote Wang Der-wei (王德威), Professor in East Asian Languages and Civilizations and Comparative Literature at Harvard University, of Wang Zhaoming (汪兆銘, 1883-1944), better known by his pen name, Jingwei (精衛), one of the most fascinating political and intellectual figures in modern Chinese history.

Taiwanese-Canadian poet and sinologist Yeh Chia-ying (葉嘉瑩) observed that, a poet by nature, he unfortunately set off on a path that would trap him in the world of power for the rest of his life, as a result of which, he was doomed. It almost sounds like a Shakespearean tragedy, certainly great material for dance, drama or opera.

So it proves in Jing Wei: Feathers Against the Tides (精衛), when all three come together to tremendous effect. A co-production between the GuoGuang Opera Company (國光劇團), noted for bringing a contemporary outlook to traditional opera, and Hung Dance (翃舞製作), who some may recall from successful appearances in the UK at the Edinburgh Fringe and more recently at London’s Coronet Theatre, it’s a work of terrific imagery and superb performances. It never flags, even for a second, over its eighty minutes. It would be marvellous to think it might be seen overseas at some point. It certainly deserves to be.

Directed by Dai Jun-fang (戴君芳), with choreography by Lai Hung-chung (賴翃中), Jing Wei is not a biographical drama as such, however. Rather, it tells Wang’s story through the whimsical perspective of the mythological Jingwei bird from The Classic of Mountains and Seas (山海經), a collection of third century BC to second century AD colourful fiction about magical creatures. The bird, a reincarnation of the emperor’s daughter who drowned at sea, attempts to fill up the ocean with rocks and stones. An impossible task.

Jingwei was also the pen name taken by Wang Zhaoming as he set out on his dream to rebuild the country and strengthen the nation after what he saw as the national disaster of the early twentieth-century. Using his poetry, and though a seamless fusion of dance, opera, poetry and theatre, all on equal terms, the work explores his inner world and the conflicts going on in his mind.

Jing Wei opens with the mythological bird (played by Huang Yu-lin, 黃宇琳) suddenly hearing mysterious laments rising from the surging sea, portrayed by the ever shifting dancers, the inky white of their costumes contrasting beautifully with the black and grey of the stormy sky projected behind. As the bird meets the spirit of Wang Jingwei (Li Jia-de, 李家德) at the crossroads of the sea and the sky, and a dialogue begins with his soul. Through her imagination, we encounter the man and explore the aspirations and inner conflicts that shaped his journey.

All the major moments in his life are referenced from his role in the fall of the Qing dynasty in 1910; through being a protégé of Sun Yat-sen during the early years of the Republic of China; to his 1920s and 1930s calls for democratic and social reform, made in the face of fierce opposition.

Then there is the early rivalry with Chiang Kai-shek, and their falling out again in the early days of the Sino-Japanese War, when Chiang wanted to fight, while Wang was a leading proponent for peaceful co-operation during both the invasion and subsequent occupation. After the virtual autonomy he hoped for his government never materialised, official histories would roundly condemn him as a traitor.

Time and again, Wang Jingwei would find that the vicissitudes of life are like the sea, and can never be overcome.

There are many memorable moments. One such sees him rail against war, speaking of how battledresses always become shrouds. Against a darkly ominous backdrop of black clouds and waves, a large red flag borne by one of the dancers brings a vibrant and dramatic splash of colour and suggests heroic battle but also appears to bring death as others fall. As it’s waved over Wang Jingwei, it seems to bear down on him. “Endless lands, endless fleeing,” he laments.

As he wears a traditional opera plume crown, is he embraced or restrained by the dancers? Friends and foes are often indistinguishable is the message.

Several times we hear of the burden Wang Jingwei carried. Black and white spears that blur right and wrong, that represent his inner struggles, the confrontations faced and choices made by him are used to great effect by both the dancers and Li, who twirls and tosses one with aplomb.

In a specific reference to the war with Japan, he speaks of how, if battle erupts, the realm will be washed away, suggesting he sees defeat as inevitable. Does one talk in the hope of saving half the people, he muses.

The Jingwei bird image is extended to Wang Jingwei’s wife, Chen Bijun (陳璧君), better known as Bingru, who moves and converses with the dancers, layering the tale still further. Their love is woven through the work, highlighted in a double duet for Huang Yu-lin and Li Jia-de, echoed balletically by dancers Lu Ying-jie (盧瀅潔) and Li Guan-lin (李冠霖). Lai Hung-chung’s effortless and easy-on-the-eye choreography catches the mood and adds to scenes throughout but reaches its zenith here. As it captures their feeling for each other, the dance is full of affection, quite sublime and very beautiful indeed. Jing Wei is poetry in motion as well as poetry in words.

Not only are Wang Jingwei’s poems are quoted, but the haunting voice of Wen Yu-hang (溫宇航) also sings the ‘Soul of Poetry.’ The way she sings softly helps ease the viewer into the depths of his inner self.

Wang Jingwei was not only a politician. His literary works and speeches fill thousands of published pages, and remain respected. He does though remain a controversial figure with his legacy still viewed negatively by some.

He once wrote, “My speeches and my writings are the truest form of my life story. There is no need for any other autobiography.” Maybe not, but while Jing Wei: Feathers Against the Tide respects that, it goes beyond, and beyond the usual historical position of traitor or martyr. It’s trawl of his poetic and emotional landscape digs deep into his psyche. It presents him as a poet who lived for his beliefs, got caught up in the choices he made, for better or for worse. As it does so, it might just open a door to a better understanding of the man himself.