The Tang Xianzu Memorial Hall in Fuzhou is a comprehensive cultural venue built to commemorate Tang Xianzu, one of the world’s hundred great cultural figures and a master of Ming‑dynasty drama in China. It is also one of Jiangxi Province’s ten major memorial halls dedicated to historical luminaries.
Zhou Yude | The Most Captivating Spring Beauty Is This Year—A Few Musings on the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe’s Full-Length Production of “The Peony Pavilion”
Author:
Source:
Tang Xianzu Memorial Hall Official Account
Time:
2023-03-13
[Author Biography] Zhou Yude formerly served as a researcher at the Chinese National Academy of Arts and as president of the China Academy of Traditional Opera. For many years, he has been engaged in the study and teaching of opera history and theory, and his published works include “Chinese Opera Culture,” “Essays on Tang Xianzu,” “Kunqu Opera and Ming–Qing Society,” and “An Interpretation of The Peony Pavilion,” among others.
In March 2023, the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe brought a full‑length production of “The Peony Pavilion” to Beijing, participating in the Ministry of Culture and Tourism’s showcase of outstanding stage works from the new era. The performance infused the vibrant garden of Chinese opera with an enchanting springtime splendor, generating tremendous excitement.
In March 2023, the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe brought a full‑length production of “The Peony Pavilion” to Beijing, participating in the Ministry of Culture and Tourism’s showcase of outstanding stage works from the new era. The performance infused the vibrant garden of Chinese opera with an enchanting springtime splendor, generating tremendous excitement.
This grand Kunqu opera, comprising three volumes and fifty-five scenes, marks a significant milestone in the four-century history of performances of The Peony Pavilion. It holds extraordinary practical significance for the transmission of humanity’s oral and intangible cultural heritage, while also sparking numerous discussions about Tang Xianzu and The Peony Pavilion.
I. Has “The Peony Pavilion” ever been performed in its entirety?
There have been full‑length performances of “The Peony Pavilion” in its history.
Following its publication, “The Peony Pavilion” won over a vast readership and audience with its powerful intellectual force and artistic appeal, to the extent that “it was passed from house to house, recited by every family, even causing “The West Chamber” to lose some of its luster.” It thus became a milestone in the history of Chinese dramatic literature.
Tang Xianzu’s “The Peony Pavilion” was finalized in the autumn of the 26th year of the Wanli era of the Ming dynasty (1598). By the following spring, performances of this play had already begun on the red carpet of the Yumintang Theater in Linchuan. Tang Xianzu himself “set foot upon the stage to teach song and dance to the performers” (from Tang Xianzu’s poem “To Master Ma Le of Jiaxing,”
“Also cherishing the Grand Secretary of Wutai” (“Self‑pinching the sandalwood mark to teach the little performer,” from Tang Xianzu’s poem “Drunk Reply on the Qixi Festival to Jun Dong”), personally directing the singing—what was performed must have been, in the strict sense, the complete version of The Peony Pavilion. The vocal style that first brought The Peony Pavilion to life was likely the Haiyan tune.
The Haiyan tune, for Tang Xianzu had at his side a troupe known as the “Yiling,” comprising opera performers from Yihuang County in Jiangxi who specialized in singing this style; Tang Xianzu enjoyed a very close relationship with them.
After its debut, “The Peony Pavilion” was not only performed by Haiyan‑style troupes but also became a highly sought‑after repertoire among Kunqu opera companies.
Historical records of Kunqu troupes staging the complete version of “The Peony Pavilion” are exceedingly rare; to my limited knowledge, I have found only two such accounts.
One is a performance by the Nanjing Wuyue Shijia Troupe.
The miscellaneous writings of Pan Zhiheng, a friend of Tang Xianzu and a critic of Chinese opera—specifically, Volume Three of his “Luanxiao Xiaopin,” titled “A Passionate Lover: Observing and Performing the ‘Peony Pavilion: The Return of the Soul,’ with a Gifted Dedication to Two Young Scholars”—states: “Among the Wu-Yue clan in our circle there was a young singer who was commissioned to perform this play (‘The Peony Pavilion’). He could render it with an ethereal, elusive quality, quite unlike…”
“It unfolds scene by scene, lingering in the ethereal yet resonating with a poignant tone. Not a single word is omitted, and every nuance is rendered to the utmost. One cannot help but be moved by the profound sentiments of Du and Liu, nor fail to admire Master Tang as an exemplary historian.” Pan Zhiheng was utterly captivated, reading it five times over the course of a single winter. This occurred in the year Wanshi Jiyou—1609. Its…
In fact, ten years earlier, when “The Peony Pavilion” was first performed, Pan Zhiheng, together with his friend Zang Jinshu and others, attended a performance of “The Peony Pavilion” by the Wu-Yue Shi troupe at Jiase Pavilion in Nanjing. Since it is said that not a single word was omitted, it was likely a full‑length staging.
The other is a performance by the Zou Diguang Family Troupe from Wuxi.
Zou Diguang was a friend of Tang Xianzu and once wrote his biography. In the thirty-sixth year of the Wanli era (1608), Zou Diguang wrote to Tang Xianzu, requesting that he compose a preface for Zou’s “Collected Works of Diaoxiang’an,” and inviting Tang to Wuxi to attend a performance by Zou’s family troupe. Zou Diguang remarked:
“(In ‘The Purple Hairpin’ and ‘The Return from the Dead’) I, humbly, have my young attendants study these works. Through them, I come to perceive their spirit and imagine their grand bearing. The boys enact the plot’s twists and turns, casting off conventional formulas, and yet their performance is far from vulgar. Do you, Yi Ren, harbor any intention? Like a reed drifting on the waves of Boyang, I shall sail straight to Liangxi. You, sir, please raise a cup of white wine for me; and I, in turn, shall seek it out for you.”
“Singing and dancing—how is it, how is it?” (From Volume Thirty-five of the “Collected Works of Diao Xiang’an,” in the letter to Tang Yiren) Zou Diguang was well aware of Tang Xianzu’s temperament and character, and he also understood Tang’s artistic principles; moreover, he was thoroughly confident in the performance standards of his own family troupe. Since he had extended such a gracious invitation…
The author of “The Peony Pavilion” traveled from afar to attend the performance, which must have been the play’s original version. Unfortunately, for various reasons, Tang Xianzu was ultimately unable to make it to Wuxi.
Beyond this, I have found no historical records from the Ming and Qing dynasties indicating that “The Peony Pavilion” was ever performed in its complete form.
Tang Xianzu wrote a letter, earnestly instructing the two performers, Yi Ling and Luo Zhang: “As for ‘The Peony Pavilion,’ you must follow my original text; any alterations made by the Lü family are absolutely to be avoided. Even if one or two words have been added or omitted to suit popular singing, such changes would nonetheless depart significantly from the spirit and intent of my original work.” (From “To Yi Ling and Luo Zhang”). From this, we can see…
During Tang Xianzu’s lifetime, “The Peony Pavilion” had already been tampered with and circulated among the common people.
In fact, the “Peony Pavilion” penned by Tang Xianzu is a literary script, and it is only natural that theatrical troupes make certain adjustments and modifications when staging it. Indeed, by the time of Tang Xianzu, most performance versions of “The Peony Pavilion” had already diverged from the original text.
After Tang Xianzu’s death, the surviving revised versions of The Peony Pavilion include those by Zang Maoxun, Feng Menglong, and Xu Rixi, among others. As for the versions used in itinerant opera troupes, the situation is even more diverse and complicated.
In those days, the reason people sought to revise and adapt The Peony Pavilion was, at its core, their deep affection for the play. Some scholars and connoisseurs of Kunqu opera, while admiring Tang Xianzu’s extraordinary talent, also found that certain arias and lyrics did not conform to the strict metrical rules of the genre. In this regard…
At the same time, it was also felt that the sheer scale of “The Peony Pavilion” no longer suited the customary performance practices of Kunqu opera in the Wu region.
In the late Ming period, in the Taihu Basin—centered on Suzhou and known as “Wuzhong”—the customs of theatrical performance had already undergone significant changes. The sprawling chuanqi plays, which had evolved from Southern Opera and often comprised forty or fifty acts, could no longer be staged by the common people.
A full‑length performance. From that time on, perhaps some well‑established Kunqu troupes staging private theatrical gatherings would present the complete version of The Peony Pavilion. However, it is unlikely that the itinerant, amateur Kunqu troupes ever staged the play in its entirety. Though The Peony Pavilion is indeed excellent, in order to accommodate conventional performance practices…
Its scale must be reduced.
The revisers of The Peony Pavilion, besides seeking to display their own wit and talent, primarily aimed to “adapt it for Wu songs” and “suit it to popular singing”—in other words, to make it more suitable for performance in the Kunqu style. As Zang Maoxun put it:
“Since Zhang Boqi of Wuzhong composed works such as the ‘Hongfu Ji,’ only thirty scenes were employed, and performers all delighted in staging them. Consequently, the length of plays grew shorter and shorter, with some even extending to over twenty scenes. Moreover, the plots within often either lack the leisurely depth required by a compelling narrative or else resort to forced contrivances and overly protracted, tedious episodes—qualities that are most repugnant. Therefore, I have chosen…”
“The Yumingtang edition has been carefully revised and abridged, drawing upon the utmost efforts of the actors to delight the ears of those present.” (General Commentary on the Zichai Ji, from the revised edition by Zang Maoxun)
Zang Maoxun remarked that he reduced “The Peony Pavilion” from 55 scenes to 36 because he found the original version too lengthy, “often fearing that the performers of the Liyuan theater would not be able to devote themselves fully to its staging. Moreover, the Yumintang edition originally comprised fifty-five acts; hence, I frequently jest that the man from Linchuan never actually went to Wuzhong to see the play.” (Commentary on Zang Maoxun’s revised edition of “The Peony Pavilion”)
Feng Menglong renamed The Peony Pavilion as A Romantic Dream, deleted and rearranged scenes, and condensed the original 55 acts into 37.
Both the Zang‑style and the Feng‑style revisions, in addition to scaling down the work, also involved extensive abridgments and alterations of the musical forms.
The Sixty Types of Operas includes Xu Rixi’s abridged and revised edition of The Peony Pavilion. Rather than rewriting the lyrics and dialogue himself, he employed a process of subtraction, reducing the original work from 55 scenes to 43 and further trimming the content of each scene.
After the Qing dynasty came to power, cultural and ideological control was steadily intensified. In the forty-fifth year of the Qianlong reign, the compilation of the “Complete Library of the Four Treasuries” was nearing completion. Among the books collected from across the empire, any that were deemed detrimental to the Qing dynasty were to be burned without exception, and any that required revision were to be altered accordingly. As the project drew to a close, Hong…
The Qianlong Emperor further reflected that even in theatrical scripts, there might well be passages deemed “inappropriate or objectionable.” For instance, plays from the late Ming and early Qing periods, “if they contain phrases or expressions referring to the current dynasty, should naturally be uniformly ordered to be thoroughly examined.” As for the Southern Song and Jin dynasties, which were often alluded to in dramatic works, external scripts frequently featured performances that went too far in their portrayal, sometimes straying into inaccuracies. The Qianlong Emperor believed that…
“This is very dangerous and must be subject to rigorous scrutiny. Any passages that should be deleted, revised, or excised are to be carefully considered and handled with due care. Furthermore, the original texts as discovered, together with the sections that have been deleted, revised, or excised, are to be affixed with explanatory labels and submitted to the capital for imperial review.” (See “Veritable Records of the Qing Gaozong Emperor,” Volume 1,116.)
According to this imperial edict, a bureau was established in Yangzhou to launch a nationwide review of opera scripts, a process that lasted four years. The renowned “Peony Pavilion” naturally became the subject of rigorous scrutiny. The examination indeed uncovered “objectionable passages”—specifically, those involving Du Liniang’s…
Old Master Du Bao took command and fought against the Jin dynasty in Huaiyang, thereby offending a political taboo of the Qing court, since the Qing dynasty had once borne the name “Jin.” In the forty-sixth year of the Qianlong reign, the Bingsiguan edition of The Peony Pavilion omitted the fifteenth scene, “The Spy of the Barbarians,” from the original text.
It was noted, “This scene follows the version submitted for imperial review and has not been included.” Likewise, in the original, Scene 47, “The Siege of the Palace,” it is stated that “in accordance with the version presented to the court, slight abridgments have been made”—specifically, the passage introducing the Jin envoy was omitted. All these passages pertain to matters involving the Southern Song and the Jin dynasty. The revisions and deletions in The Peony Pavilion are not…
The revisions are thorough, with every word and sentence carefully considered and refined. For instance, the tune title “Zheng Hu Bing” in the scene “Ci Jie” was changed to “Zheng Hu Bing,” and the line “Jin bandits gaze from the south” in the scene “Nao Shang” was altered to “Li Quan stirs up rebellion.” The meticulous care of the editor can only be described as…
Pervasive.
From that time onward, no complete edition of the Qing dynasty’s printed version of “The Peony Pavilion” has ever survived. Even the musical scores—such as the “Complete Score of The Peony Pavilion” included in the “Nashu Ying Qu Pu,” published in the fifty-seventh year of the Qianlong reign—lack the music for the scene “Lü Die,” with a note stating: “This piece is omitted in accordance with the imperial manuscript submitted for review.”
As for the Kunqu troupes’ performances of “The Peony Pavilion,” they were even more incomplete. By the Qianlong period of the Qing dynasty, Kunqu opera had already entered a phase of decline. In the face of competition from the Luantan operas, in order to preserve their artistic edge, Kunqu troupes distilled a large number of excerpted scenes. From…
In works such as “Zhuì Bái Qiú” and “Shěn Yīn Jiàn Gǔ Lù,” one can find references to scenes from “The Peony Pavilion,” including “The Girls’ Tutorial,” “Urging the Farmers,” “A Dream of Astonishment,” “Seeking a Dream,” “Portraiture,” “The Departed Soul,” “Judgment in the Underworld,” “A Journey of the Soul,” “Picking Up the Painting,” “Calling the Painting,” “Secret Union,” “Reviving the Dead,” and “Torturing the Yuan.”
Several excerpts. These excerpts have endured on stage, refined into paragons of Kunqu opera. Fortunately, the “Peony Pavilion” scenes that have survived on stage retain the original lyrics penned by Tang Xianzu, rather than the revised versions. By stringing these excerpts together…
Well, it can barely be pieced together into a “mini‑complete edition,” but it no longer bears any resemblance to the original scale.
II. The Successes and Shortcomings of the Ending in “Revival”
In 1956, the Kunqu opera “The Fifteen Strings” was staged to great success, with one production reportedly reviving an entire theatrical tradition. Kunqu thus embarked on the path of revival, and “The Peony Pavilion” became a must‑see repertoire piece that drew widespread attention. The task of revising and adapting “The Peony Pavilion” fell to the newly established Kunqu troupes.
Among the opera troupes’ scheduled productions, several stage adaptations of The Peony Pavilion have been presented one after another. In addition to Kunqu opera, Jiangxi’s Gan Opera has also staged a version of The Return from the Dead, translated and adapted by Shi Linghe.
Back then, the series of performances of “The Peony Pavilion” shared a common feature: the plot concluded at the scene titled “Revival.” Du Liniang dreamed because of love, fell ill because of her dream, and died as a result; yet, after death, she was reborn. It can be said that this approach successfully brought to life the spirit of Tang Xianqing’s original work.
The profound philosophical proposition of “the theory of the primacy of emotion”—as articulated by Zhu in the preface to The Peony Pavilion: “Love knows not whence it springs, yet once kindled, it burns deep; the living may die for it, and the dead may live again.”—has been brought to life in the myriad splendid interpretations of The Peony Pavilion staged by Kunqu troupes across both northern and southern China.
It has earned the recognition of audiences and made a significant contribution to the preservation and transmission of Kunqu Opera.
However, while acknowledging the success of these revised productions, a closer reflection inevitably gives rise to certain regrets—there always seems to be something missing.
I believe this shortcoming lies primarily in the following aspects:
First, from the perspective of the integrity of the dramatic characters and the structure of the conflict, the play concludes with Du Liniang’s resurrection, leaving behind a question that is neither too big nor too small. Du Liniang has been restored to life, bringing her journey in the underworld to an end and returning to the human world. Yet, for the ideal love she pursued—
The journey of life, from birth to death, does not end here. Tang Xianzu’s “The Peony Pavilion” convincingly shows readers and audiences that Du Liniang, having left that inn of life—the tomb—returns to the real world, only to be plunged at once into new sorrows, leaving behind…
Many mysteries have been left unresolved.
Liu Mengmei exhumes the tomb and opens the coffin; according to the law, he faces the death penalty. Can he escape it? Even if the couple flees under cover of night without incident, Du Liu’s marriage—lacking both parental consent and the formal arrangement of a matchmaker—is still unlawful. Will society accept it?
Believe it? Moreover, how could such a miraculous event—Du Liniang’s resurrection three years after her death—possibly convince a father whose mind was rigidly bound by conventional logic? Thus, Tang Xianzu felt compelled to pen the tale of Du Liniang’s return to life, in order to offer a plausible resolution to these very questions. And so, “The Peony…”
“Dan Ting” comprises twenty scenes depicting Du Liniang’s return from the dead. If the performance were to conclude with Du Liniang’s resurrection, would that not leave something to be desired?
Second, by ending with Du Liniang’s resurrection, the work fails to fully capture the artistic spirit and intent of Tang Xianzu.
Tang Xianzu’s dramatic artistry is marked by a distinct and unwavering artistic principle. He insisted that “the essence of literature lies in its wit, charm, and spirit.” In the original version of The Peony Pavilion, every scene and every character is imbued with Tang Xianzu’s unique sense of “wit and charm,” encompassing his thematic intent, conceptual design, and…
The pursuit of fun.
During his lifetime, Tang Xianzu’s friends had already observed and pointed out that “the Linchuan legends often voice sentiments critical of the world” and “frequently allude to contemporary events” (as noted in the commentary on the scene “Judgment in the Underworld” in Zang Maoxun’s revised edition of The Peony Pavilion). In other words, Tang Xianzu liked to use his plays to express criticism of contemporary society.
The playwright often subtly weaves into the play certain aspects of Ming‑dynasty society and his own personal reflections, which is also a distinctive feature of “The Peony Pavilion.”
Indeed, this is the case. When we read Tang Xianzu’s “The Four Dreams of Linchuan,” we find that his pen reaches far and wide, touching on such diverse aspects of the Ming dynasty as domestic politics, foreign affairs, and social customs. The same holds true for “The Peony Pavilion.” Yet much of this material has been excised in the stage version.
Out of respect for this great dramatist, it is imperative that we give due attention to and analyze those elements that are often omitted from standard production scripts.
For example, Chen Zuilang. This character is a unique creation of Tang Xianzu. In the original play, Chen Zuilang appears in as many as fourteen scenes, making him one of the most important supporting figures. It is through him that the story of “Guan Ju” is recounted, and only then does Du Liniang receive her first awakening to youth; it is also thanks to his chance encounter on a snowy road that…
Only after the ailing Liu Mengmei was allowed to take up residence in the back garden could the ghostly love story between Du and Liu unfold; upon discovering that Du Liniang’s tomb had been desecrated, he rushed at once to inform Du Bao, narrowly escaping being branded a grave robber and losing his life; and it was through his fearless efforts to rally support and make connections that the rest was accomplished.
Du Bao’s negotiations with Li Quan temporarily averted the Song–Jin crisis, and Du Bao was promoted to vice‑chancellor. Chen Zuilang, who had been exceptionally appointed to the post of Yellow Gate Official, remained active right up to the final scene. It is precisely through this character’s comings and goings that the entire dramatic narrative unfolds smoothly.
In the original work, Chen Zuilang’s role category is “mo,” a type of character that, since the days of Nanxi theater, has served both as the troupe leader and as an essential figure tasked with weaving the narrative together and bridging its various episodes. In the performance texts we have consulted, Chen Zuilang’s part survives only in the scene “Chunxiang Makes a Fuss…”
“Learning,” and some performance scripts even excise this scene as well. By completely discarding this character, Tang Xianzu’s “artistic intent” is greatly diminished.
Take Miao Shunbin, for example. Tang Xianzu created this character entirely on his own, endowing him with a distinctive and unique charm. In the eighteenth scene, “Meeting at the Shrine,” Miao Shunbin makes his first appearance. The impoverished scholar Liu Mengmei has ventured out to seek his fortune when he encounters Miao Shun, an imperial envoy charged with appraising treasures, in Xiangshan’ao (present-day Macau).
Bin, having received travel expenses from Miao, was finally able to head north. In the forty-second scene, “The Delayed Examination,” Miao Shunbin reappears. Liu Mengmei flees to Lin’an, hoping to take the provincial examination, but he arrives too late—the examination hall’s gates have already been closed. Fortunately, the chief examiner is Miao Shunbin, and thus he is granted…
When the time came for him to take the imperial examination, and after passing Miao Shunbin’s interview, Liu Mengmei emerged as the top scholar.
Tang Xianzu’s conception of this character is imbued with rich layers of meaning.
First, it is a commemoration of the sights and experiences encountered during his exile. Having been demoted to the post of magistrate in Xuwens County, Guangdong, Tang Xianzu once passed through Xiangshan’ao, where he first came into contact with foreign merchants and missionaries, leaving an impression both novel and profound—impressions he resolved to weave into his plays.
Second, it establishes the special bond between Liu Mengmei and Miao Shunbin. Without this relationship, Liu Mengmei would have no hope of passing the imperial examination as zhuangyuan. And if he fails to become zhuangyuan, his conflict with his father-in-law cannot be resolved, nor can he consummate his lawful marriage to Du Liniang.
More importantly, Tang Xianzu’s creation of this character serves as a satire and critique of late-Ming politics. By depicting Miao Shunbin hosting a jewelry exhibition in Xiangshan’ao, he exposes the corruption and greed of the Ming emperors. Indeed, the Ming emperors dispatched envoys across the globe to amass treasures.
Surprisingly, the emperor actually appointed this gem‑expert envoy to preside over the nation’s highest‑level imperial examination. This Miao Shunbin could only appraise jewels: “The moment he lays eyes on a genuine treasure, his eyes light up; as for writing, it has never entered his field of vision.” To entrust such an utter layman with this task…
The selection of talent serves as a satire of the dark, corrupt, and absurd imperial examination system of the late Ming dynasty.
If Miao Shunbin were removed, the story of Liu Mengmei would struggle to advance, and his character would remain incomplete. Moreover, Tang Xianzu’s distinctive artistic intent could not be fully conveyed.
Take Du Bao, for example. In the original work, his character is remarkably multifaceted. Du Bao is a man of rigid thinking; though he genuinely loves his daughter and cares for her in every possible way, he remains unable to grasp her inner world, which ultimately drives her into depression.
Extinction. Yet he was also an upright and incorruptible official—deeply concerned with the nation’s destiny, endowed with a spirit of self-sacrifice, and bold enough to shoulder responsibility as a pillar of state. That is why Du Bao figures prominently in the original play. Moreover, the scene “Urging the Farmers” conveys Tang Xianzu’s vision of a world where “officials are clean, and the people are clean”—a realm of moral clarity and integrity.
The ideal of politics. Unfortunately, in the various stage versions that conclude with Du Liniang’s resurrection, Du Bao has become a figure who is either entirely dispensable or merely incidental.
Take Judge Hu, for example. This character is also an original creation of Tang Xianzu. It is only with the “Passage Permit for the Phantom Realm” granted by Judge Hu to Du Liniang that her ghostly spirit can meet Liu Mengmei, thus making a romance between a human and a ghost possible. This Judge Hu is lustful, fearful of his superiors, and prone to bending the rules for personal gain—clear evidence of the underworld’s…
The underworld of Cao and the human world are no different from the real‑world political arena—of course, this is a critique of contemporary society.
In Judge Hu’s opening monologue, there is also this line: “The Jade Emperor, moved by my integrity and wisdom, has entrusted me with the seal of authority over the Ten Hells.” In performance scripts, this line is often omitted; even when retained, it can be rather difficult to grasp. In fact, this too reflects Tang Xianzu’s distinctive artistic intention.
The point he seeks to highlight is the disarray and corruption that plagued the governmental institutions of the late Ming dynasty. Since the Wanli era, government offices at all levels suffered from severe staffing shortages; often, even the top officials were absent, leaving subordinates to temporarily assume responsibility for seals and official documents and to act in their stead. This was a distinctive feature of late‑Ming society.
Moreover, in Tang Xianzu’s “The Story of the Handan Inn,” it is written that Yanzhou had no prefect, and its administration was entrusted to an acting magistrate. In “The Story of the Southern Bough,” the county of Nankē was without a governor, with the clerk of the administrative office serving in an interim capacity. Yet these “temporary holders of official seals” were themselves corrupt officials. Tang Xianzu’s distinctive artistic intent lies in his adaptation and performance…
Most of them have been largely overlooked.
To express his own sense of exile, Tang Xianzu portrayed Liu Mengmei as the 28th-generation great-grandson of Liu Zongyuan, and even created a character named Han Zicai, who was said to be Han Yu’s great-great-grandson. Tang Xianzu populated his play with figures of varying stature—Du’s mother, Chunxiang, the couple Li Quan, envoys from the Jin court, and others—indeed…
As for Sister Shi, Guo Tuo, and the others, each of them harbors their own profound intentions.
All of this demonstrates that The Peony Pavilion is a legendary masterpiece of extraordinary richness, radiant and splendid. On contemporary Kunqu stages, the performance versions that conclude with the scene of revival, though they do to some extent reflect the themes of Tang Xianzu’s original work, nevertheless—
The charm of wielding the brush cannot be fully captured.
Many stage adaptations, while failing to fully capture the spirit of Tang Xianzu’s vision, suffer from one minor shortcoming: the character Liu Mengmei is given insufficient stage time. Even with scenes such as “Startled Dream,” “Picking Up the Painting,” “Calling the Painting,” “Secret Union,” and “Oath in the Underworld,” they can still convey…
Liu Mengmei’s devoted love, however, still pales in comparison to Du Liniang’s. It is only with scenes such as “Huai Bo,” “The Feast,” “The Torture,” and “The Coronation” that Liu Mengmei’s character becomes all the more endearing. It turns out this scholar is not merely a lovesick fool, but also a man of courage.
He is spirited, resolute, unafraid of hardship or the powerful; though he retains a touch of the scholar’s naiveté, he is a man of extraordinary talent. It is for him that Du Liniang suffers to the point of death and rebirth, thus giving her cause all the more compelling.
As for Du Liniang, after being brought back to life, she has endured the trial of death and rebirth, undergoing a profound transformation in her character and becoming remarkably courageous. She not only steadfastly upholds her unwavering devotion but also displays even greater fortitude. In the Golden Hall, she is able to…
She bravely fought for the legitimacy of her marriage. In response to the emperor’s accusation that “without the parents’ consent and the matchmaker’s word, all parents in the realm are held in low regard,” Du Liniang even retorted sharply, declaring, “The one who arranges the marriage is a mother of mourning; the one who escorts the bride is a female yaksha.” If it were only until she was brought back to life,
Then it would fail to portray the progress in Du Liniang’s character.
In sum, the stage versions up to “Huisheng” all seem to have discarded certain valuable and essential elements of the original work, falling far short of Tang Xianzu’s artistic spirit and aesthetic intent. III. An Experiment in the Full-Text Performance of “The Peony Pavilion” To address these shortcomings of the performance scripts and to ensure the complete transmission of the operatic classic “The Peony Pavilion,” scholars and performers began pursuing a full, unabridged rendition of its story. As research on Tang Xianzu and “The Peony Pavilion” deepened and understanding grew, it became apparent that the traditional…
The monumental work “The Peony Pavilion” is not only a philosophical exposition of the doctrine of “supreme emotion,” but also carries profound social significance. Accordingly, at the turn of the century in 1999, the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe presented a condensed three‑act, thirty‑five‑scene version of “The Peony Pavilion,” adapted by Wang Renjie.
In 2001, Kunqu Opera was inscribed by UNESCO as a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity, drawing unprecedented attention to this art form both at home and abroad. In 2004, the Suzhou Kunqu Opera Troupe successfully staged a multi‑act production conceived and directed by Bai Xianyong.
A youthful adaptation of “The Peony Pavilion,” priced at 27 yuan for three copies.
The publication of these two versions finally allowed audiences on the Kunqu stage to witness a relatively complete rendition of the story of Du Liniang and Liu Mengmei as told by Tang Xianzu. However, in terms of scale and structure, they still fall considerably short of the original text of The Peony Pavilion.
In 2016, to mark the 400th anniversary of Tang Xianzu’s death, a wave of scholarly interest in Tang Xianzu and his “Four Dreams of Linchuan” swept through the academic community. Performances of “The Peony Pavilion” also enjoyed remarkable success. Meanwhile, the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe launched an even more ambitious creative project, resolving to stage all thirty-five plays that year.
Building on the original script, we further expanded and refined it, staging a full‑length production of “The Peony Pavilion” that adheres precisely to the play’s original structure and scale. This plan has at last been realized.
Realizing this ambitious plan will be extremely challenging and will require addressing a series of issues.
As times advance, people’s aesthetic preferences are also evolving. Can today’s audiences accept a 55‑act rendition of “The Peony Pavilion”? And can the original text of “The Peony Pavilion” be faithfully transposed onto the Kunqu stage of the 21st century? The subtle interplay that Tang Xianzu so carefully crafted four centuries ago…
Can today’s audiences still appreciate and resonate with the unique “artistic charm” that captures the essence of reality? All these questions must be carefully addressed and thoroughly explored through meticulous experimentation. Sufficient scholarly effort must be devoted to the cultural giant Tang Xianzu and his illustrious masterpiece, The Peony Pavilion.
Stage performances must also embrace new forms of creativity.
The Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe has indeed poured considerable effort into this full‑length production, achieving remarkably positive results.
First is the script structure.
The original structure of “The Peony Pavilion” is inherently rigorous, with the entire play woven together with painstaking precision. Every character conceived by Tang Xianzu and every detail meticulously arranged carries a specific artistic intention. The 55‑act grand production staged by the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe follows the original text of Tang Xianzu.
The narrative unfolds scene by scene, and it is gratifying to note that the dramatic pacing is remarkably smooth, free of obstacles or rough patches, with each scene offering ample material for performance. Even four centuries after its publication, this legendary work can still be staged faithfully, adhering to the original sequence of its narrative.
The story amply demonstrates that Tang Xianzu was indeed a master of playwriting.
The artists of the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe hold the great dramatist Tang Xianzu in the highest esteem. The complete production of “The Peony Pavilion” faithfully preserves every element of the original, retaining as much as possible of its content and structure. Most importantly, it maintains the play’s dual‑thread narrative structure, not only fully preserving the central love story of Du Liniang and Liu Mengmei, but also…
Moreover, it preserves a complete sub‑plot depicting Du Bao’s efforts to persuade farmers in the countryside, his steadfast defense of Huaiyang, and his daring suppression of Li Quan’s rebellion, thereby offering a thorough interpretation of the original work’s spirit. Interestingly, the full version of “The Peony Pavilion” not only fully adheres to the narrative sequence of Tang Xianzu’s original text…
Moreover, even the “anthology of Tang poems” meticulously composed by Tang Xianzu and placed at the end of each act has been preserved, presented as the characters’ “exit verses.”
Of course, even a 55‑act production cannot remain entirely faithful to the original. In fact, in the strict sense, a “complete version” would entail reproducing the text verbatim, without the slightest deviation. But that is neither necessary nor feasible. Certain elements of the original simply no longer suit contemporary stagecraft and must be adapted…
Appropriate reductions and adjustments.
Indeed, some scenes in the original work are “hurried and lacking in lingering reflection” and “dragging, replete with tedious, protracted episodes.” It is certainly necessary to make appropriate cuts to these languid, leisurely, and overly drawn-out passages. Moreover, certain “refined sentiments” in the original that satirize contemporary reality were, in their day, painstakingly crafted by Tang Xianzu himself.
However, the heart may not necessarily elicit understanding or resonance from today’s audience, and its removal would hardly be a loss. As for certain passages—such as “Questioning Illness,” “The Daoist Medium,” “Diagnosing Spirits,” and “Testing Medicines”—some of the lines spoken by Chen Zuilang and the nun Shi, which carry overtly erotic undertones, were, at the time, characteristic of the Ming dynasty.
The “elegant jest” cherished by the scholar-officials was a distinctive kind of wit—yet today, it no longer belongs on the stage.
Next is stage performance.
Through the passage of time, only about a dozen scenes from The Peony Pavilion remain on the modern Kunqu stage—each a classic painstakingly refined over generations by performers. Common performance editions are based on these dozen or so scenes, and with diligent imitation, one can also…
It’s passable. However, if all 55 scenes are to be staged, more than half of the material lacks established classics to draw upon, necessitating a complete re‑creation of the play—what is known as “nèi xì.” This process of re‑creation in the performing arts demands considerable skill and effort from both the director and the performers.
The artists of Kun have demonstrated remarkable artistic ingenuity, meticulously crafting each of the 55 productions on stage to be both compelling and truly splendid. This is no small feat.
This complete production of “The Peony Pavilion,” though it has omitted certain arias from the original, has nonetheless, through careful selection, sought to preserve as many of the most melodious and easily sung pieces as possible. For many scenes, even with the “Nashu Ying Qu Pu” available for reference,
Indeed, but it also underwent a fresh round of reworking and musical arrangement, thereby enhancing the dramatic expressiveness.
Among the ancient Chinese opera vocal styles, the Kunshan style was the first to innovatively employ a silk-and-bamboo ensemble. In this complete production of “The Peony Pavilion,” in addition to the outstanding lead performance of the qudi, the ensemble deliberately highlights the unique charm of the guqin, the guzheng, and the sheng.
This full‑length production of “The Peony Pavilion” makes full use of the traditional four skills and five methods, inheriting and reimagining elegant performance conventions to vividly convey the refined charm of Kunqu opera. At the same time, it judiciously incorporates modern theatrical techniques such as revolving stages and lighting.
It truly achieves the principle of “finding the new in the old, and grounding the new in tradition”—a creative philosophy that the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe has consistently upheld, and a defining hallmark of its productions.
This complete production of “The Peony Pavilion” is the result of the concerted efforts of five generations of performers from the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe, with leading roles entrusted to a new generation of rising stars. It vividly showcases the troupe’s achievements in nurturing talent, inspiring confidence in the future of Kunqu opera.
The performance by the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe achieved its intended effect, thoroughly addressing the many questions audiences had about staging the complete work. It can be said that, over the four centuries since Tang Xianzu’s passing, the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe’s full‑length production of “The Peony Pavilion” is the most faithful to the original text. It has brought the classic…
On the contemporary stage, “The Peony Pavilion” has received a thorough interpretation and a full revival. It has entered the annals of its performances as a magnificent and dazzling chapter.
“The Peony Pavilion” is a great theatrical masterpiece. To cater to the diverse aesthetic tastes of audiences, the rich and varied world of Chinese opera should offer a wide array of interpretations. This complete production of “The Peony Pavilion” by the Shanghai Kunqu Opera Troupe will join the many different stagings that have graced the stage.
This work has long coexisted on the stage, continuing to stand the test of time and theatrical practice.
Kunqu opera aficionados spent a full eight hours watching this sprawling, multi‑act masterpiece, and every audience member was thoroughly sated by the performance. As the final note faded and the crowd dispersed, lingering wistfully as they left the theater, they couldn’t help but exclaim: “How could one know such splendor of spring without stepping into the garden?”
Those with a scholarly interest in Tang Xianzu cannot help but exclaim: “This year’s springtime is the most enchanting yet!” For at last they have beheld a stage production that comes closest to capturing the original spirit of The Peony Pavilion. I imagine that if the venerable Tang Xianzu were still among us, he too would nod in approval, smiling with delight.
Shall we joyfully clap and tap our feet in time?
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