What's Chinese About Chinese Ballet?

NEW YORK — The middle of August in New York usually means slim pickings for dance. So the debuts of two ballet companies at Lincoln Center on two consecutive August weekends would have stood out, even if the companies had not both been Chinese.

But they were: Guangzhou Ballet and Liaoning Ballet. This intrigued me and also made me wary. The Chinese ballet productions that have appeared at David H. Koch Theater in recent years have struck me as awfully high in melodrama and kitsch, conflating ballet with acrobatics, the choreography and music mired in formulas and clichés both Western and Chinese.

But then, in early August, the Chinese dance-theater production “Under Siege” came to the Koch, as part of the Mostly Mozart Festival. This wasn’t ballet, and it certainly had elements of kitsch and cliché, but its use of several Chinese traditions — high-level martial arts, borrowings from Beijing Opera, virtuosic pipa players — was freshly entertaining. Its modern, semi-Westernized adaptation of an ancient Chinese story basically worked.

Buoyed by this example, I gave the Guangzhou and Liaoning companies a try, only to get another surprise: the high level of competence of both companies. And yet there was also a dispiriting sense of the familiar.

Anyone expecting ballet-as-usual might have been happy with the performances. Anyone hoping for something fresh and different in a visiting troupe — something revelatory or challenging, even a cultural clash — was bound to be disappointed.

With “Mulan,” the Liaoning company, founded in 1980, came closest to earlier Chinese ballet productions seen here. Even if you didn’t know the story of the young woman who pretends to be a man so that she can take her aging father’s place in the army — a legend familiar to global audiences through the 1998 Disney animated film — you could easily follow it in this clear, smooth telling. (The ballet travels to Washington in September.)

Clear, smooth and dull. The choreographers, Chen Huifen and Wang Yong, adapt ballet conventions in a nearly rote fashion. When Mulan is homesick, she watches a flock of wild geese — a female corps de ballet doing stock ballet-bird moves. In the midst of battle, she tosses off a string of whip-around fouetté turns as if she were the Black Swan in “Swan Lake.” Not every Chinese company needs the martial-arts flair of “Under Siege,” but this medium-paced melee was a letdown, hampered by the wrong conventions.

Adhering to ballet convention almost seemed to be the goal. It was the overt intention of Liaoning’s other program. The first half was standard gala fare — duets from “Swan Lake” and “The Nutcracker,” the “Le Corsaire” pas de trois — and the performances were committed, careful, entirely respectable.

The second half was a different set of conventions, all up-to-date. Some pieces were by European choreographers: Marc Ribaud (French); Rui Lopes Graca (Portuguese). Some were by Chinese dance-makers: Fei Bo, the resident choreographer of the National Ballet of China; Wang Yuanyuan, the founding director of Beijing Dance Theater. Except for some terrible music, nothing was especially good or bad or particularly Chinese, though it all gave the dancers a chance to display their proficiency in the undulant noodling, hyperextension and cool attitudes of worldwide contemporary International style.

The situation was similar with the Guangzhou troupe, founded in 1993. In “Goddess of the Luo River,” Canadian choreographer Peter Quanz referred to another Chinese legend, a story of nature and transformation. But what it looked like was a decent pastiche of a George Balanchine mode: daisy chains and pretty formations suggesting water and the separation of two lovers, all carefully matched to the music (a saccharine violin concerto by Du Mingxin).

In “Carmina Burana,” by Jiang Qi, who was born and trained in China but has spent much of his career in Utah and Cincinnati, the music was Carl Orff’s medieval-inspired cantata, interpreted as an odd sort of Rite of Spring, the sacrifice to placate Nature somehow mixed up with drunk soldiers and temptresses, teenage romance and boyfriend-stealing. There were lots of steps and little sense.

Was this a “bridge between Western and Eastern cultures,” as the program claimed? Was any of this what the Liaoning program called “ballet art pieces of Chinese characteristics?” Was there much Chinese about these ballets besides the dancers performing them?

Only on the surface. There need not be, of course. Ballet is an international language. Danes have made great ballets out of Hans Christian Andersen stories, just as Americans have made ballets about cowboys or sailors on shore leave in New York, but choreographers all over the world have furthered classicism and modernism in directions not so obviously connected to national style. A Chinese troupe might make a great work about, say, 17th-century France or transform the classical language in some pathbreaking way.

Mainly, the performances by the Guangzhou and Liaoning troupes were mediocre, at the level of good regional groups from countries with much longer histories of ballet. That is its own accomplishment. If you lived in the city of Guangzhou or the province of Liaoning, and these were your local ballet companies, you could be proud. And if you live in the United States, and it means something to you to see Chinese dancers doing ballet well, these companies can serve that purpose just fine.

This article originally appeared in

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