Becoming Madame Mao (7 page)

While waiting for her turn, Lan Ping takes a close look at the director. He is a soft-spoken man who wears a black cotton jacket and a black French beret. He smokes a cigarette and holds a tea mug in his hand. His assistant calls the contestants by their numbers. He looks at them without expression.

The young women do everything to overcome their stage fright. One girl takes deep breaths while the others massage their throats. Lan Ping waits with her heart beating fast. She is not as nervous as she thought she would be. She reflects on her time in jail. What can be more frightening? She smiles.

Mr. Zhang Min notices the difference. With his thumb supporting his chin he leans forward and begins to watch the girl. He keeps the same pose from the beginning to the end of Lan Ping's performance. He doesn't say anything afterwards. From the way he looks at her Lan Ping knows that she has made an impression. Before she leaves the room Zhang Min gets up and waves. I want to see you do that part again.

She does the part again.

He watches. He stops her and demands, Chisel the phrase this way. How about softening the tone a bit?
Oh, Torvald, I'm not your child.
Don't bang your chest. It's too cartoonish. Let yourself miss a beat. Hold the tension. Pivot your head toward the window, then the door, now speak.

She follows the direction, improvising at the same time. She is in a plain blue blouse, her body tall and slender. She is full of desire yet vulnerable. The assistants whisper to each other. Zhang Min doesn't smile, doesn't say anything more. After Lan Ping finishes, the director sends an assistant to tell her to wait in the greenroom. Mr. Zhang Min would like to talk with you after he is done. He is wrapping up. He won't be seeing anyone else today.

They meet and have tea. It goes well. Her senses tell her that he appreciates not only her acting skill but also her personality. She is flattered. You understand Nora, he remarks. Strangely, in the back of her mind, there is a recurring, seemingly irrelevant thought: he is a married man.

Later, much later, after the play, after the role, after her heart is broken over her next husband, she will listen to that thought and go to Zhang Min for shelter. She will move into his place and become his mistress. But at this point, she is a professional. And she is going to play Nora.

Nora is a traditional Western housewife, the mother of three children, Zhang Min says. Her husband and her friends think that she lives a good life—well fed and clothed. She gets expensive gifts at her birthdays.

But she is like my mother, the girl interrupts. Her man doesn't regard her as an equal but a bedmaid.

Go on, Miss Lan Ping! Go on.

She is not allowed to make decisions about the house, her children or her own activity. She is a wing-clipped bird, kept in an invisible cage. She is a concubine, a foot warmer and a slave. She is a prisoner. I was a prisoner. I know what it's like to be a prisoner.

The director encourages her. Describe your background, he orders. She enters her role. She describes her father, his drinking and his violence, and then her mother, the slave. She describes herself, how she ran away and grew up in hardship. The director listens attentively, forgets to drink his tea. Later on he tells her that her interpretation was exactly what he had been looking for. He falls in love and could have kissed her right on the spot. You are my perfect Nora. The play is going to fly because of you.

Then she meets her costar, Mr. Zhao Dan, her lifetime curse, the king of Chinese stage and screen. Dan plays her stage husband, Torvald. Lan Ping can hardly believe her luck. She remembers the sensation of being introduced to Dan for the first time. Awestruck. The handshake that makes her tremble. She is unable to hide her nervousness.

He is a tall and handsome man with a pair of penetrating eyes. He nods, acknowledging her.

Miss Lan Ping is a member of the left wing. When Zhang Min says this to the actor, the girl feels belittled.

I am new but I don't lack talent, she says, as if to nobody.

Would you like some candy? the actor yells. Who would like to have some candy?

They work fourteen hours a day and make the theater their home. Sometimes they sleep behind the stage. They are a good pair when they are acting. But there is already tension between them. What annoys Dan is Lan Ping's boldness, her assumption that she is his equal. The way she uses her new status and her association with him to show off to others. He can't stand her elation.

She begins to set herself up to be burned. She can't help being attracted to him, first toward his genius, as a mentor, a teacher, and then to him as a man. Later she says that it was simply her nature to conquer the unconquerable—she was attracted to the challenge, not the man.

She is Dan's partner and fan. He makes her focus on her character. But she becomes confused, she mistakes her stage relationship with him for the real thing. It is all new and exciting. She loses herself.

It eventually becomes clear that he doesn't appreciate her as much as she appreciates him. He pays no attention to her although they act in intimate scenes together. He is his own inspiration and she is a prop, an off-camera object, which he takes as a lover, to which he speaks love. He regards her as a provincial actress, miscast for the role.

Dan wants to have nothing to do with me after working hours. He doesn't want to discuss the role with me. Instead he offers suggestions regarding my part to Zhang Min. Besides what's on the script he has no interest in hearing what I have to say. He has many friends who are influential. They come by after the show and usually go for tea or snacks. I make myself available but am never invited. It tells me that Dan thinks of me as a poor choice for Nora. I see this in his arrogance, and from the way he begins to miss rehearsals. He doesn't want to be my Torvald. I am not sure whether he has ever spoken to Zhang Min about a possible replacement. I am sure that if it wasn't for Zhang Min, I would have already been replaced.

Dan is flirtatious. He likes to play with Lan Ping using the lines of Torvald. He squeezes her hands, presses her body against him during acting. He makes excuses to get her into his makeup room, pins himself against her. Come on, it is a perfect day in spring, he says.

Dan's lightness torments her. It hurts her more than anything when he makes jokes about the moments on stage where her intense effort has made her awkward.

It is in her relationship with Dan that she learns her fate. Learns that she can't escape Dan and men like him. Later she watches him as he moves on, to abandon her as a stage partner, and to pair with her rival, Miss Bai Yang.

Yet she can't forget Dan, who has not said one worthy word about her. The childish grin on his face every time he greets her. For that, in the future, Dan will pay with his life.

Madame Mao believes that one must collect one's debts.

I rebuff Dan. I demand his seriousness. Although nothing seems wrong on the surface, there is this undercurrent, an unspoken resentment. One day, the day after I had pushed him off of my chest, he mentions a girl. I am in love, he says. Her name is Lucy. Lucy Ye. She is the one I intend to marry. She is an actress too. A tender creature unlike you.

He brings Lucy in between us, too often, as if mentioning her will protect him from being attracted to me.

Maybe the truth is there, speaking its own voice for Lan Ping and she doesn't know it. She wants to swallow Dan up. She has not had a man since arriving in Shanghai. Her longing for affection is dreadful, and she cannot escape her feelings.

When Dan is asked to comment on Lan Ping as a stage partner, he says, No, no comment. Truly. He says this to every journalist, critic and friend. A shrug of the shoulders. Truly, no comment. It hurts Lan Ping beyond healing.

Yet, underneath all of this, in the midst of her resentment and tension, there is never a sense of finished business—never an end to wanting Dan.

In the weeks leading up to opening night, I pour myself heart and soul into the role. I feel the character, feel the Tightness of the story for our times. Although Dan won't take me out, I go out with others, lesser cast members. I tell them how I feel about what we are involved with. I find myself getting emotional, my voice loud. Let's toast the show!

One night, there is a playwright in the group. He says that I should consider myself very lucky. He points out that if it were not for Dan, no one would come—no one is interested in watching me. I am terribly offended. I bounce off my chair. Who are you to say this to me?

I make enemies. I can't avoid them. After the fight some friends advise me that I should have just ignored the stupid playwright. But I am hurt by his words! My friends say, You're too serious. Those were the utterances of a drunkard. It doesn't mean anything. But I disagree. I believe that it was his true view. He is influenced by Dan.

On stage she lives out her eternal despair. Nora's lines fall from her lips like words of her own.
I've lived by performing tricks, Torvald, and I can bear it no more.

On opening night the theater is jammed. Five-foot-tall flower baskets sent by friends and associates pile over the terrace. The seats are packed. The add-up seats—seats that have no backs—are sold at full price. Dan and Lan Ping's pictures are painted on wall-size posters on each side of the theater. Both their eyes are shadowed with dark blue paint. Lan Ping is in a black satin dress. The characters are in a dramatic pose, standing chest to chest and lips an inch apart.

The crowd is spellbound. Although most of them are Dan-fans, Miss Lan Ping takes them by surprise. As she catches her breath in the makeup room during intermission, Zhang Min rushes in. He gives her an affectionate hug without saying a word. She knows that he is proud of her, knows that she has succeeded.

This Nora has a Communist's mouth,
one paper raves.
It attacks and bites into our government's flesh. Miss Lan Ping's Nora speaks the voice of the people. The audience identifies with her. What we hear in Nora's voice is a political message. The people of China are sick of the role they are forced to play. They are sick of their incompetent government, the head of state Chiang Kai-shek, and themselves as the obedient, discreet and child-rearing Nora.

This is what she has always wanted in life—being able to inspire others. It is what the operas did to her when she was a young girl. Now she has finally arrived. The novelty of fame brews on. She is thrilled to be recognized when walking on the streets.

She likes the interviews although the big papers are still not interested in her. They do stories on Dan. She doesn't give up. She is determined to make herself Dan's equal in every respect. She offers her stories to the smallest papers and accepts invitations to talk at schools. She loves to pose for photos. She adores the lights, the clicking sound of the cameras.

On stage they are lovers. She sits on his lap. He returns her affection. She tries her best to hide her feelings for him. She leaves the theater in a hurry, pretending to run to the next engagement. She tries to run away from her loneliness. Just looking at Dan makes her heart ache. Since the play's opening Lucy Ye has come to see Dan every evening. They steal kisses in between scenes. Dan's dressing room door is always closed.

She tries to handle herself, tries to get over Dan. She invites Dan and Lucy to tea, to discuss improving their performances. It is to make her heart learn reality. To go through a funeral. Eat yourself. She sits across from the couple and speaks seriously. She focuses on the roles, voices her opinions. She bends down to sip tea while feeling her tears coming.

I am walking out of this house that suffocates me and I will survive. You will see, Torvald!
she cries on stage.

It is at this moment that her fate answers. It is then that he, a man named Tang Nah, appears in her view. He makes her see him. Nothing extraordinary at the beginning. He pushes himself like a photo-print in a darkroom. The texture gets richer by the second. Now it is clear.

He is among the critics attending the show on opening night. Fashionably dressed, he is in an elegant white Western suit and white leather shoes with a matching hat. He comes to meet his destiny, the woman for whom in the near future, he will twice try to kill himself.

Tang Nah is a liberal. A typical Shanghai bourgeois. A stylish-looking man, above average in height, a pair of single-lid eyes, long straight nose and sensuous mouth. He is well educated and an expert in Western literature. Among his favorite novels is
Lady Chatterley's Lover.
He drinks tea and speaks English at parties in front of pretty women. On opening night his face is neatly shaved and his hair smoothly combed to the back. He is in an excellent mood. He enters the theater and walks to his seat, into the web of passion. Later on he is criticized for having an unrealistic mind, for his need to live in a fantasy world, and for being a weak man who lets emotion drive his life. But he is already in it when he enters the dark space where she is to appear, to present herself as an illusion.

It is right here, on this night, the first sight, already nothing is real. Her makeup, her hair, her costume, the little picture house. The fantasy itself. She is his Lady Chatterley.

***

Each night, she relies on her role to carry her up high.

Lan Ping-Nora leans herself against Dan's chest, against the man who twenty-five years later she will throw into prison for having rejected her. But now she feels his heartbeat, his body heat. She feels strangely in love, touched by her own passion. The characters speak their lines. She tears herself away from Dan. He grabs her. She struggles, pushes him, giving him a chance to tame her. He comes back, locking her arms behind her, bending her toward the floor. They strike a final pose. Her hair falls back, her breasts pressing against Dan. She sees his sweat melt his makeup and feels his breath hit her lips.

A Doll's House
becomes the talk of Shanghai. The talk of 1935. Lan Ping rides her fame and begins her move toward the movie industry. Yet she finds herself unwelcome. It is another circle and another gang. To break in she realizes that she has to start from square one. During the day, she looks for opportunities in film, at night she continues to play Nora. Her audience grows, and the government feels threatened by the play's political impact. One month later, Zhang Min is ordered by the Department of the Censorship to remove the political element from the show. When he leads the troupe in protest, the government shuts down the play.