“Nightwalk in the Chinese Garden” – some enchanted evening at the Huntington

The Garden of Flowing Fragrance. Photo by Martha Benedict. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens

The Garden of Flowing Fragrance. Photo by Martha Benedict. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens

“Nightwalk in the Chinese Garden” – a theater review
Immersive tales of love across time and space at the Huntington

The evocatively titled “Nightwalk in the Chinese Garden” has everything but the fireflies, the cicadas, and the crickets in their bamboo cages. But it’s easy to imagine that they’re present as well.

Playwright, director Stan Lai. Courtesy of the artist

Written, and I’m instead tempted to say composed, by the esteemed Taiwanese playwright Stan Lai, in a collaboration between the Huntington and CalArts Center for New Performances (in association with the Shanghai Kunqu Troupe and Theatre Above, Shanghai), “Nightwalk” is a site-specific theater piece that escorts its small audience into and through the Chinese garden, or rather the Liu Fang Yuan (the Garden of Flowering Fragrance) at the Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens, in San Marino.
With some allowance, the Chinese gardens are similar to the follies, that is, the faux ruins, the bridges and staircases leading to nowhere in particular, the isolated cottages and temples and pyramids, etc., that were popular in 18th century Europe. These ornamental structures often suggested another time or place and invited wistful moods and contemplation.
Ten years ago, this Chinese garden was new, with little or no mature greenery, and for the most part it was comprised of concrete footpaths with their linking bridges, a koi pond without much character or charm, and a couple of pavilions without the necessary patina to bestow upon them an air of authenticity.
A decade has worked wonders on the site, and for the first time Liu Fang Yuan is enchanting attendees in a way they may never before have been enchanted.
Stan Lai looked at and appraised the different points of interest in the garden where the action of a play can take hold, and he proceeded to tailor “Nightwalk” to best utilize them. The result, with a storyline understood although not so easily grasped, is an atmospheric experience of the highest order.
The play draws heavily from the late 16th century Ming-era opera “The Peony Pavilion,” and interweaves this with an early 20th century narrative about a young painter in the employ of railroad magnate Henry E. Huntington, whose money was lavished upon books, art, and the very estate where the stories unfold.
“The Peony Pavilion” in its original form contains 55 scenes and can run for 22 hours. In 2006 an abbreviated version was presented over three evenings at the Irvine Barclay Theatre on the UCI campus, where I saw it, and I believe elsewhere in Los Angeles. It’s sort of a cousin to the classic Chinese novel “A Dream of Red Mansions,” which in my bookcase is slipcased in three volumes.

Jessika Van as the Maiden. Photo by Rafael Hernandez. Courtesy of CalArts Center for New Performance

If there’s an underlying theme to “Nightwalk” it can be drawn from a line that’s uttered on two or three occasions, which is something like, “Without having seen the garden, how can one know the wonders of spring?” In other words, if you haven’t loved, you haven’t lived.
In this play, love is everywhere, not only in life and the afterlife, in the distant and not-too-distant past, in dreams, painting and poetry. Mostly, there is longing and unrequited passion, or of love found, lost, and now hungered for.
“Although “Nightwalk” is performed six evenings a week through Oct. 26, I believe it was sold out before it opened, and to a large extent that’s because only about 40 people can be accommodated each evening. So why write about it? Because perhaps the Huntington will consider a reprise in late spring or early summer (sounds like the title of an Ozu film!), let alone next fall.
The play–and I keep wanting to call it ‘the experience’!–begins at 7:30 p.m., and a few minutes before that, gathered around a check-in table seemingly out in nowhere, two men with lanterns silently approach and beckon those assembled to follow. It is best to do so quietly, because in one sense this is already part of the adventure and, I don’t know about the others, but I could then imagine that we’d become promoted to diplomats or ambassadors or simply honored guests being silently led to somewhere special, even magical, and reserved for only the select, privileged few.
It’s a bit of walk, somewhat brisk, but more of a prelude if not exactly an overture. There’s a ceremonious entry, a spirited welcome by actress Eileen T’Kaye, and then the guides lead us to the Hall of the Jade Camellia, where we encounter an anguished 16th century Chinese poet (Hao Feng) at his desk, soon joined by his lover and muse (Jessika Van), and into the scene comes the itinerant painter, The Artist (Peter Mark), and his model (Abigail Stanton). The four of them may be just feet or even inches from the audience, now seated close by on benches, but from each other they are in different centuries despite a palpable resonance that conjoins them. This is somewhat reminiscent of Tom Stoppard’s masterful “Arcadia” where the centuries overlap but of course can never physically interact.

Hao Feng, Jessika Van, and Reggie Yip. Photo by Rafael Hernandez. Courtesy of CalArts Center for New Performance

At any rate, it all begins here: Yearning, passion, desire, however you’d like to phrase it. Then a bell is rung, meaning that the scene is over (another bell is rung whenever a scene ends), and one guide escorts 20 audience members to the right and the other guide escorts 20 audience members to the left.
It wasn’t premeditated on my part, but I went left. Was this important? Did it make a difference? Well, yes, sort of like how one approaches “Hopscotch,” the novel by Julio Cortázar in which the writer offers the reader various choices on how to approach his novel, which can be read straight through, by skipping (or hopscotching) per his suggestions, and so on. In the end, everybody will have read the same pages, but clearly not in the same order. True, we aren’t asked to make a choice, but it’s the same basic concept with “Nightwalk,” although I doubt if Mr. Lai was thinking of either “Arcadia” or “Hopscotch” when he conceived this play. He may, however, have been familiar with the “Hopscotch” auto-opera presented by The Industry in and across downtown L.A.

Peter Mark and Lizinke Kruger. Photo by Rafael Hernandez. Courtesy of CalArts Center for New Performance

If one were to walk to the left, that is, to the north, one would first experience the California saga; conversely, going to the right, one experiences the Chinese scenario. Then you’d experience the other scenario, but backwards (and you’d have to turn it around in your mind, so to speak). Altogether, there are 10 scenes, of various lengths, although the timing between the two groups has to coincide because both need to arrive simultaneously at the Clear and Transcendent Pavilion or Hall so that, together, they can experience an excerpt or two drawn from “The Peony Pavilion” which features Chenxue Luo or Ting Zhang (they alternate) of the Shanghai Kunqu Troupe. I’m jumping ahead, I realize, but this is the highlight, the crème de la crème, of the performance. Chinese opera? These two actresses are the real thing, and in this context the play-within-a-play is priceless.
But what I wanted to say is that one could experience “Nightwalk” countless times (bearing in mind that tickets range from $85 to $150) and every evening the experience would be different, depending on one’s mood, the other guests, if one is walking in front or lagging behind, and of course the weather itself. The performance I attended included an appearance by a large yellowl moon.
Because “Nightwalk” is often dreamlike in its construction and presentation, my synopsis may be full of holes, and closer to a laundry list of impressions.
The first stop on my group’s tour was at a prime viewing point next to one of those magnificent vertical wind-carved or water-carved rocks. The Artist (he’s also called Mr. Willow) has paused there, and Mrs. Stone (Eileen T’Kaye) informs him that he is at the grave of Bella Dejardin (Beautiful garden?), a young woman who died pining for a lover. The Artist is put up for the night, in a room which turns out to be Bella’s former bedroom, where she was confined before her death.

“Sarah Siddons as the Tragic Muse,” by Joshua Reynolds

Since this is somewhat of a Chinese ghost story, the dead girl or her apparition (Lizinke Kruger) arrives in the middle of the night and seduces the young man. Whether it’s deliberate or not, Kruger is made up in such a way that she’s highly reminiscent of “Sarah Siddons as the Tragic Muse,” by Joshua Reynolds (also in the Huntington collection). Be that as it may, mortal man and phantom woman passionately embrace and so forth, which is interesting for the audience since we are essentially sitting around the bed where this takes place. We may feel like voyeurs and, guess what, for a few moments that’s what we are.

Tom Zhang and Christine Lin

The next scene, although presumably taking place inside Henry Huntington’s mansion, has the audience somewhat bunched together on a narrow bridge (that’s why it has to be an intimate gathering). At one end is a portrait of Thomas Gainsborough’s “Blue Boy,” which I assume needs no introduction; and it’s being cleaned by Fragrance (Christine Lin), a Chinese maid. Huntington (Adam J. Smith) likes how she carefully attends to it, although the curator, a Mrs. Claremont(?), does not. I believe this role is performed by Sarah Schulte. We learn that Fragrance had a beloved (Tom Zhang) in China, but fate has pulled them apart. There’s a poignant line about their being separated by “an ocean without a bridge.” Another painting is brought in, and we recognize “Pinkie,” by Thomas Lawrence. There is a discussion as to whether to place her and “Blue Boy” beside one another, but then it’s decided that they will be hung on opposite sides of the gallery so that they can forever gaze upon one another. In this, I think, there’s a bit of resonance with Fragrance and her forlorn situation.

Jessika Van, Chenxue Luo, and Christine Lin. Photo by Rafael Hernandez. Courtesy of CalArts Center for New Performance

How much, if anything, in this sketch is based on factual events I cannot say, but now the two groups gather together for the opera, “The Peony Pavilion,” although I believe the curator was instead geared up for “Tosca.” As mentioned, this is a truly gorgeous and spellbinding scene. Afterwards, each group of 20 begins to experience the other half of the story… although in reverse.
In the tiny Pavilion of the Three Friends the Chinese maid (Reggie Yip) talks about her sorrowful mistress (Jessika Van). The gist of it seems to be about ghosts and dreams. It’s mid-autumn. This is followed (or preceded!) by a brief scene on a bridge, before being escorted to the Love for the Lotus Pavilion.
This is a more elaborate encounter, where we are enchanted by Sarahjeen Francois as the Flower Spirit and her two giggly nymphlike companion spirits, Jasmine and Chrysanthemum. With its long winding fabric that embraces the lovers, the Maiden and the Scholar/Playwright (Van and Feng), this scene is somewhat of a dreamlike fantasy that seems to mirror the intimate encounter between the Artist and Bella. Then, stepping forward (or backwards), the Maiden and her Chinese maid are together in the smaller Terrace of the Jade Mirror, where we learn of the maid’s affections for the gardener, which once again mirrors another scene from the other story, that of the maid Fragrance and her beloved back in China. In fact, if my ears did not deceive me, this Chinese maid (Yip) is also named Fragrance. Which wouldn’t be so odd, really, considering that “Nightwalk” takes place in the Garden of Flowering Fragrance.

Sarah Schulte, Adam J. Smith, Peter Mark, and Lizinke Kruger. Photo by Rafael Hernandez. Courtesy of CalArts Center for New Performance

After this there is a dinner party scene with all of the characters, and with both groups of audience members looking on. There is toasting, and it’s as if the dreams, the quests, and the dreamquests have all come together. Afterwards, even the audience is given cups of tea. And so it’s quite a finale, a consummation of sorts. On the evening I attended there was also an opportunity to speak with the actors who were both approachable and friendly.
If you’ve read this far, it’s evident how impressed I was by the whole experience, which I would say is more deeply felt than fully comprehended. In this sense it reflects the heart and the emotions, rather than the head, and passionate love is truly at the center of this tale. It’s also one of those rare events that one wishes could be experienced again, this time beginning from the other side. But that’s an experience I’ll have to encounter only in my imagination. At least for the time being.
Apart from the playwright and director Stan Lai, there have been many people involved who brought this immersive work to life, such as the flautist Yin Qian and guitarist Omar Torrez who provide unobtrusive music. Also scenic designer Aubree Lynn and costume designer E.B. Brooks, and the list does go on and on. Although “Nightwalk in the Chinese Garden” has been sold out, perhaps there is a waiting list for cancellations, or perhaps there will be added shows. For this event, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to inquire. Huntington.org/Nightwalk. ER

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