M. Butterfly

By Joseph Cervelli

When “M. Butterfly” which is currently being revived in a choppy, oddly aloof production at the Cort Theater first opened about 30 years ago it was not only daring and provocative but enthralling in the way it was presented with two perfect performances by John Lithgow and B. D. Wong. 

A major  problem with this revival written and modified by playwright David Henry Hwang is that director Julie Taymor known for spectacles (“The Lion King”) seems to have difficulty in conveying those personal moments between the two leads here, Clive Owen and Jin Ha. Instead of an emotional impact which should be be coming forth from the stage there is a grounded rapture which sucks out the life from what should be a high powered show. 

While loosely based on a true story, we first meet Rene Gallimard who was a French diplomat stationed in Beijing now (1986) in a French prison convicted of treason. Owen is an exceptionally fine actor (try to see his underrated performance in the film “Croupier”) and here he still shines as someone coming to grips with his grave errors in judgments. He writhes around in the small cell with a lightbulb overhead going on and off adding to his agony. He is the narrator and while that works very well throughout the play, for some reason which wrongly takes you out of the story, Taymor has the two leads breaking the fourth wall addressing one another as to whether certain aspects should be included in the telling of the story. And to speak to the audience makes for nervous laughter on our part which only cracks the momentum of the play adding to the listlessness of this revival. 

Flashback to the 60’s where Gallimard meets an opera star Song Liling (Ha Jin) who performs the death scene from “Madame Butterfly”at an ambassador’s house. The diplomat is not aware that Liling is actually a man even though women were not allowed at that time to play such roles. Liling informs Gallimard about the racist attitudes that Westerner’s have  towards Asians not caring to understand their culture but to dominate them. While Gallimard is completely enchanted by the singer’s delicate and feminine looks and wiles, Jin appears to be more masculine looking than the role demands. It is hard to believe that the Frenchman would not wonder if indeed this was a woman. This is not to say that Jin does not act well for he most certainly does, but unless he is physically believable (even his voice appears deep) all is lost. The other problem is that (and this is not his fault) the way he speaks to Gallimard should be with a certain air of modesty and frailty while instead he appears to be too Westernized almost like a modern woman. To make matters worse, after a performance when the two walk through the streets of China with the singer wearing civilian clothing, Liling appears even more manly. 

As the play proceeds, we realize that she is a spy for the Chinese government  and is ordered by the leader of the Red Guard, Comrade Chin (superficially played by Celeste Den), to obtain secrets from Gallimard. All this leads to a sexual relationship between the two and still unbeknownst to Gallimard is her true gender. While both actors do play the scene of their first sexual encounter acceptably, under Taymor’s direction what should be sensitive and artful becomes languid and not quite believable. 

  

The scenes of the Chinese opera which are heavy on spectacle although the costume designs by Constance Hoffman are stunningly beautiful. What became  very distracting was the constant movement of the panels (beautifully designed by Paul Steinberg) which takes your attention from the action. Too bad that Taymor does not concentrate more on the written text than the pageantry. 

I don’t recall from the original if during the courtroom scene near the end of the play Liling who arrives dressed in man’s clothing explains how he accomplished his feat of deceiving Gallimard as he does here. 

The last scene that both men share in the jail cell is well played out especially by Owen who comes to grips with reality. It is the fantasy that has kept him surviving the harsh prison conditions and now even that is gone.

Sadly, the magic that Gallimard felt dissipates just as we feel the same about what should have been a far better production. 

Tickets are available at the Cort Theater 138 West 48th Street or by calling 212.239.6200.