In late 2012 I found myself on a flight bound for China together with the cast of The Sun is Not for Us, renowned director David Jiang’s reworking of some of the stories involving female characters from Cao Yu, the father of Chinese spoken word drama. I was production manager for the tour, which travelled to three cities, and was also operating the sound. This was my first trip to China; in fact, it was my first trip to Asia and the experience was, perhaps unsurprisingly, overwhelming. I started to fall in love with China and all its complexities, contradictions and culture.
   
During each show, there was a period of about ten minutes where I had no sound cues and this gave me the opportunity to consider and reflect. Whilst looking out at the audience and the cast performing in English to a largely Mandarin-speaking audience, two things continually struck me. Firstly, I realised that although I had been a classically trained actor, at no point in my training were Chinese playwrights or Chinese theatre mentioned. The history of theatre, I had been taught, was confined to Europe and North America, with a smattering of Japanese and India. China, one of the oldest and culturally rich countries on the planet simply wasn’t mentioned. This struck me as both odd and also as a fabulous opportunity to share this rich seem of theatre with the wider world.
   
The second thing that struck me, as I gazed out into the auditorium from the safety of the control position, was how intrusive the subtitles we were forced to use were for the audience. Audiences in China are very used to reading surtitles, subtitles and projected text. The myriad of classical Chinese opera forms and singing dialects mean that titles are often used even for Chinese performances. Although our audience were used to watching theatre with titles, I still couldn’t get away from the feeling that there had to be a better way. Surely it must be possible to deliver a piece of theatre for an audience that spoke a different language from the actors performing in front of them without asking your audience to choose between the action on stage and the text projected on a wall.

It was the joint realisation that I not only wanted to find out more about my newfound love of Chinese theatre, but that I also wanted to share it with both UK and Chinese audiences, that eventually led me to board another plane in September 2016 bound for Shanghai, Beijing and Fuzhou, to tour a new adaptation of Tang Xianzu’s Nanke Ji – but I’m getting ahead of myself…


Having returned from my initial trip to China filled with enthusiasm, I spoke with University of Leeds Chinese theatre expert and The Sun is Not for Us producer Professor Li Ruru about my wish to explore Chinese theatre and my thoughts about the whole notion of bilingual theatre. In 2014 Professor Li mentioned that the 400^th anniversary of the death of Shakespeare in 2016 was also the 400^th anniversary of the death of one of China’s most famous playwrights, Tang Xianzu. This numeric coincidence seemed like an excellent opportunity to create a piece of work that embodied both Shakespeare and Tang Xianzu, and one that involved both a UK and a Chinese cast. After much discussion, it was decided that a student company from the University of Leeds (the stage@leedscompany) should tackle a piece of Tang Xianzu, and a student company from China should create a contemporary piece based on William Shakespeare. The eventual joint production became A Midsummer Night’s DREAMING Under the Southern Bough, with students from the University of International Business and Economics, Beijing, creating a contemporary reworking of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and the stage@leeds company adapting Nanke Ji (A Dream Under the Southern Bough) for a modern audience.

When Professor Li Ruru initially spoke to me about Tang Xianzu, I had no idea who he was. I had heard of Peony Pavilion, but had never heard of Tang’s Four Dreams. The decision to adapt Nanke Ji was therefore quite pragmatic. Having done some simple research, it was clear that Peony Pavilion had been performed on a number of occasions in the UK and abroad, but the rest of Tang’s canon of work had seemingly never been performed outside of China. It seemed obvious that we should choose any of Tang’s plays other than Peony Pavilion.

Having made this decision, the next one was made for us, as the only other Tang Xianzu play text apart from Peony Pavilion available in English at the time (I’m please to say that all are now available) was A Dream Under the Southern Bough. Two translations existed – one by Zhang Guangqian and another by Wang Rongpei – and these formed the basic texts from which we created our own DREAMING Under the Southern Bough.

From the start, the scale and complexity of this project was daunting, both creatively and logistically. Logistically we aimed to create two pieces of theatre in two countries that shared a set and could be performed back-to-back, like jigsaw pieces that would fit neatly together to form a seamless whole. We would perform initially in Leeds and then take the double production to the Edinburgh Fringe, where each company had a strict 45-minute play length, before touring the show to three different venues in China. Creatively we were faced with retelling an opera with 44 scenes as a spoken word drama in 45 minutes, viewable to both English and Mandarin speakers.


I am always looking for texts and stories that speak to ‘me’ directly; stories that challenge and question; stories that make you laugh, make you cry and make you think. Thankfully, all these were present in this play, and I felt that the story of Chunyu Fen, forced to question his life and reality itself in the land of the ants, would be of interest to a modern audience if we could just bring the work into the here and now. Before starting the adaptation process, I wanted to understand what it was I wanted to achieve with this adaptation and what elements were important. I decided on the following:
Tell the whole story:


Even though our spoken word production was an abridged contemporary adaptation of Nanke ji, we wanted audiences to recognise Tang’s original narrative.


Acknowledge both China and the UK in the narrative arc:
I wanted to reflect the intercultural nature of the production with our ‘Chunyu Fen’ recognisable as a contemporary British character, reflecting the fact that this was a student company from the UK undertaking the contemporary adaptation of a classic Chinese text. We also wanted the ‘ant world’ to reflect Tang’s world so that we could connect with both Tang himself and with the China that created this great work.


Make it compelling for a contemporary audience:
I wanted to produce a contemporary production that would be appreciated by UK and Chinese audiences alike regardless of their prior knowledge of Tang.


Try to make it bilingual:
I also wanted to look at the challenge of performing to an audience of both English and Mandarin speakers and our options for presenting the work bilingually or in dual language so that the work could be understood and enjoyed equally.


Having adapted classic texts previously, most recently Dante’s Inferno (Screaming Media Productions, 2012, Leeds Millennium Square), I was aware of some of the pitfalls of contemporising and contracting a classic text. The dense poetic nature of Tang’s work, the fact that half of the included text should be sung not spoken and the overall length of the play make it all too easy to skate over subtlety in an attempt to tell the whole story in 45 minutes. It was therefore very important to look closely at the production and decipher the core message Tang wanted to impart.

Chunyu Fen is an ex-military man, drunk and down on his luck. Friendless, save for his drinking buddies and looking for answers. Visiting a local monk, he finds himself transported to the kingdom of the ants, where he is married to the king’s beautiful daughter. Blessed with children, high rank, friends, property and power, he manages to lose everything, only waking to find he is back with the monk and the kingdom of the ants is just an ant hole on the ground.

The last scene of the play is ‘difficult’: it challenges you to question whether the ant kingdom was real or imagined, it challenges you to question whether everything is real or imagined. It may be one of the reasons why the play is rarely performed. When he wrote Nanke ji, Tang Xianzu was himself questioning his life and mortality and he too sought inspiration and answers in Buddhism. The fact that Tang never actually became a Buddhist may be one of the reasons why the end of the play seems so inconclusive. Perhaps Tang himself was inconclusive. Professor Li Ruru, my co-adaptor Dr Adam Strickson and myself discussed the last scene of the play many, many times, trying to quantify and boil down Tang’s message. It would be quite late in the process by the time we had figured out what Tang was trying to say.

Once we had broken down the original play into sections, we looked at the key narrative arcs and worked out which elements of the original should be kept and which should be left. In the end, the 44 original scenes were reduced to 18 key narrative components (still a big ask for 45 minutes).

The next step was to bring the story into the here and now and the decision was made to recast the play’s protagonist ex-military man and drunk, Chunyu Fen, as Charles ‘Chunny’ Fenn, ex-military man who served in Iraq, now finding himself after a night of intoxication, ending up on a remote Scottish island. Our Chunyu would be of the here and now, and our ant kingdom would reflect China and the world of Tang Xianzu. In the original play, Chunyu has two male friends who accompany him to the ant kingdom; in our adaptation, one of his two friends is female, the wife of Chunny’s best friend who committed suicide in Iraq. In the original the ants are led by a king, but we felt this was inaccurate and sexist and so our ant kingdom is ruled by a queen. My colleague Dr Strickson wrote a draft of the first scene, which I edited and rewrote aspects of. This became the start point for the production.

As the director as well as a member of the writing team, I found the process quite difficult. As a director, I am used to meeting the cast on the first day of rehearsals with a full understanding of the script, its text and subtext. I usually arrive with a strong sense of the setting, overall feel and mise en scène. The scenographic scheme for the overall piece defines how I work with the actors and how the actors interact with the piece. With DREAMING Under the Southern Bough, this working practice was not possible. The rehearsal and development process for the project happened over a nine-month period, but the final script wasn’t finished until quite late in that process, with Dr Strickson and myself continually editing and rewriting.
   
As a director, I found not having a fully realised script throughout the rehearsal process very difficult. It was hard to work on characters and their motivations without having the full arc of their narrative to hand. Trying to understand a character’s objective without knowing their super-objective is a challenge. As one of the adapters of the script, I found that the director and the writer inside my head were in constant conflict. One of the lessons I take from this experience is that I need three months between finishing the script and starting the rehearsal process.

As I have said, one of the most challenging parts of the play is the end, and our own journey with the last scene of the play goes a long way to explaining the issues and challenges we faced. ‘1. Meaning of Life, Draft 1’ was replaced by the shorter and more direct ‘2. Meaning of Life, Leeds-Edinburgh’ version of the scene.

1. The Meaning of Life, Draft 1

Projected text:
Born into the world of desires,
We are afraid of death.

The scene is set as for scene 4, with the prayers hung on the tree and the can of beer on the table. Chunyu is asleep. Distant Buddhist chanting as he stirs.

Chunny:	Oh my head, my poor aching head...it feels like the whole of bloody Catterick is marching inside my head.
Sam:	(quietly, distant) He drinks a whiskey drink, He drinks a vodka drink, He drinks a lager drink, He drinks a cider drink.
Chunny:	Sam?
Chunny staggers to his feet and takes a drink from the can on the table.
	Hair of the dog.
Pause.
	I thought I had a wife... and she was pretty, really pretty.    And... She was a princess. She was called... Yaofang.
Chunny stares at something on the ground.
	We had... four children. And then... she died.
Chanting quietly, Juana enters.
Juana:	Charles Fenn, are you glad to see this beautiful autumn morning under our great tree?
Chunny:	Look, you see this ant.
Juana:	I see the ant.
Chunny:	Oh... oh... what was it the Queen said?
Pause.
	‘Out of the millions rise thousands, Out of the thousands rise’ – oh, I can’t remember.
Juana:	Have you been dreaming, Charles Fenn?
Chunny:	No, no... I don't know. I was there, it was real.
He scratches frantically at the earth.
	Look, look, here in the roots, all these ant trails... There must be thousands of ants living under this tree.
Pause.
	I lived here...there... for twenty years.
Juana:	I saw you yesterday. I felt your unbearable sadness.
Sam wanders in, humming.
Sam:	It’s the morning after the night before. Quite a night Chunny, quite a birthday night.
Chunny:	Sam... You’re here, you’re alive.
Sam:	Just about, have to say the old liver’s not feeling one hundred per cent.
Juana continues to chant quietly at the table.
Chunny:	Sam, look here… what can you see?
Sam:	Ants and... More ants.
Chunny:	I think I was an ant, a really really important ant, the Lord High –
Sam:	Have you got a private stash you didn’t tell me about?
Chunny:	And over here... there’s a low mound. I think it might be my wife’s grave on Dragon Hill.
Sam:	Chunny ma boy you have well and truly lost it.
Juana:	We are many things. Charles Fenn may be a man in one life and an ant in another. We do not usually remember (in Mandarin). It is not usual to remember these things.
Maya:	(quietly, distant) The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying. Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy I love you so.
Chunny:	I loved Yaofang so much.
Sam:	Yeah, right, you loved an ant. Look, Chunny –
Juana:	Allow your friend to mourn his wife for a moment.
Sam:	What? Ur... ok.
Pause.
Chunny:	I governed the Southern Bough.
Juana:	And now you find yourself under the great tree again, and you are thirty years old. What will you do with the rest of your life Charles Fenn?
Chunny:	I’ll... I’ll go back to the army. I need order... I need habit, routine. I need to be inside... some kind of system.
Sam:	That, Chunny, has got to be the worst idea you’ve had for a very long time. Do you really want to be looking Ali Baba in the eyes again when he’s got a Kalashnikov pointing straight at you? Anyway, you couldn't hack it.
Juana:	To reach the worlds of emptiness, One has to get beyond desires (in Mandarin first).
Maya enters.
Maya:	How are my two best boys this fine morning then?
Sam:	Chunny got married to an ant and wants to be back in the bloody army.
Maya:	Ah... not so good then.
She hugs Chunny.
Chunny:	What am I going to do Maya?
Maya:	Break out of your prison, somehow. I will if you will.
Chunny:	Yeah...
Chunny wanders over to the offerings table.
	What are these bits of twig and this… seed thing?
Juana:	You remember a pair of phoenix hairpins and a small jewel case made from horn?
Chunny:	(excited)Yes, yes, and... whoooah... the drop dead gorgeous Qiongying and the very very hot Itty.
Juana:	Both ants. That was the beginning of your dream. They were the messengers from the world below.
Chunny:	But you were there.
Juana:	I was there, and I was not there. All is empty.
Chunny:	Yeah right, all is empty...
Chunyu claps his hands and then stands stiffly with his palms together in front of him, like a Buddha. Juana laughs.
Juana:	So you have become a Buddha, Charles Fenn.
Chunny:	For a moment.
Juana:	That is all it takes... or a lifetime.
Chunny:	Or many lifetimes, so I’ve heard.
Juana:	Yes, we can tell a story of these lifetimes. You, yes you... Maya... you begin. (in Mandarin first). You have a story? The first word of your story must be ‘I’.
Pause.
Maya:	Ok, what the hell! It can’t do any harm. What else have we got to do?
Pause.
	Let’s give it a go.
She takes a deep breath.
	I am Danny... putting a gun to his mouth.
Pause.
Juana:	(to Sam) Now you.
Sam:	Really?... Ok... I am the twelve-year-old boy with the knife who Danny killed.
Chunny:	I am the man whose family were bombed, who recruited the boy, and gave him the knife.
Maya:	I am the bomb.
Sam:	I... helped to make the bomb.
Chunny:	I am... the father of the woman who helped to make the bomb... and who lost his legs in another war.
Pause.
Maya:	I am the woman who didn't know me but who smiled, took my hand and sat me down on that bench outside Tesco when I couldn't stop crying.
Sam:	I am... that mangy white cat who sat on Maya's windowsill all night and watched the three of us drink ourselves stupid on the first anniversary of Danny's death.
Chunny:	I am that ant... just there.  Look... come closer.
Juana:	Ok. I see it, it's an ant.
She laughs.  They all look at the ant.  Freeze.
Projected text:
A long dream doesn't take much time: a short dream won't be noted down. People are like ants dreaming on the Southern Bough

2. The Meaning of Life, Leeds and Edinburgh script

Projected text:
Born into the world of desires,
we are afraid of death.

The scene is set as for scene 4, with the prayers hung on the tree and the can of beer on the table. Chunyu is asleep. Distant Buddhist chanting as he stirs.

Chunyu:	Oh my head, my poor aching head... it feels like the whole of bloody Catterick is marching around inside it.
Sam enters
Sam:	I wondered what had happened to you:
Chunyu:	Sam? Sam! You’re alive. I thought you’d….
Chunyu stares at something on the ground.
Sam:	Are you okay?
Chunyu:	I had a wife... a princess, four children… Yaofang.
For the first time Chunny notices where Sam is standing. He is standing on the ant nest which is teaming with ants. Sam has unknowingly smashed an ant’s nest. Chunyu screams at him and grabs at his feet. Sam is confused.
	Sam!!!, you’re standing on the mound, the ants!
Sam	Ah get them off me (he swats at his legs).
Chunyu:	You’re destroying the kingdom!! They’re all going to die. Get off them!
Chunny pushes Sam out of the way. Juana has entered.
Sam:	You’re a bloody psycho!
Sam leaves in a bad mood
Chunyu:	Sam, Sam, I’m sorry… I…
Juana:	(Mandarin first) Good morning Charles Fenn.
Chunyu:	Look at the ants, the colony is smashed!
Juana:	(In Mandarin first) I see them. Have you been dreaming, Charles Fenn?
Chunyu:	No, no... I don’t know. No, I was there, it was real.
He scratches frantically at the earth.
	Look, look, here this is the Sophora Kingdom and this must be the Southern Bough and here’s the jade tower where…
Pause.
	I lived here... there... for twenty years.
Juana:	And were they happy years?
Chunyu:	Yes, of course, I was a Lord… I was prime minister… I had Yaofang…. I had … I had…
Juana:	Everything you ever wanted…?
Chunyu:	Yes… I had… No, I mean, that’s not the point… It’s not just about me it’s about them, we have to help them.
He scrambles on the floor trying to fix the ant mound. We hear music. Juana takes Chunny’s hand and looks him in the eye.
Juana:	To reach the worlds of emptiness. One has to get beyond desires (repeated in Mandarin).
Chunyu:	It can’t have been a dream it was so real?
Juana:	Does it matter?!
The lights change and the music swells. Images are projected on the screen much like the montage at the start of the piece.
Juana:	How strange that the flower we see does not exist. It’s a dreamland that haunts the mind A long dream doesn’t take much time A short dream won’t be noted down People are like ants dreaming on the southern bough.                                       (repeated in Mandarin)
1616, Qiongying, Itty, The queen and finally Yaofang walk on stage and past Chunyu. Only Yaofang pauses. She smiles at Chunyu and then leaves (All in Mandarin only)
Chunyu:	(to 1616) Thank you for your service (to Qiongying) Thank you for your friendship (to Itty) Thank you for the lesson you taught me (to the Queen) Thank you for your faith (to Yaofang) Thank you for everything (in English) I love you.
Juana:	Goodbye Charles Fenn, remember, ‘People are like ants dreaming on the Southern Bough.’
Chunny:	(in Mandarin) ‘People are like ants dreaming on the Southern Bough.’
Juana smiles at this and leaves. Maya enters.
Maya:	Are you okay? Sam thinks you’ve lost it.
Chunny:	Actually…
Pause
	I think I’m fine. How about you?
Maya:	I’m getting by.
Chunyu:	I think about Danny a lot.
Maya:	It wasn’t your fault you know.
Chunyu:	I know, it wasn’t yours either.
They hold hands.
	(in Mandarin) ‘People are like ants dreaming on the Southern Bough.’
Maya:	What?
Chunyu:	‘People are like ants dreaming on the Southern Bough.’
She gives him an odd look as they begin to leave.

With only 45 minutes available for the Edinburgh shows, we needed a direct scene that made its point concisely, clearly and with emotional force. However, having performed the show in Edinburgh it became apparent that ‘2. Meaning of Life, Leeds-Edinburgh’ still had room for improvement. Although shorter and more direct, the scene still failed to deliver the emotional punch I was looking for and it also failed to deliver Tang’s central message. Another final scene was written which was an improvement but still failed to encapsulate what we and, I hope, Tang was trying to say. Ultimately, Professor Li Ruru provided the answer when she shared some translations of Tang’s writing, including the line ‘A person’s spirit is the real root for one’s life.’ In this one line, I not only found the key to the last scene but also the meaning and a narrative spine for the entire play. The final scene was changed for the tour to China (see below).


3. The Meaning of Life, Final Version

Projected text:
Born into the world of desires,
we are afraid of death.

The scene is set as for scene 4, with the prayers hung on the tree and the can of beer on the table. Chunyu is asleep. Distant Buddhist chanting as he stirs.

Chunyu:	Oh my head, my poor aching head... it feels like there’s a whole army marching around inside it.
Sam enters.
Sam:	I wondered what had happened to you.
Chunyu:	Sam? Sam! You’re alive. I thought you’d…
Chunyu stares at something on the ground.
Sam:	Are you alright?
Chunyu:	I had a wife... a princess, four children… Yaofang.
For the first time Chunyu notices where Sam is standing. He is standing on the ants’ nest, which is teeming with ants. Sam has unknowingly smashed the nest. Chunyu screams at him and grabs at his feet. Sam is confused.
	Sam!!!, You're standing on the mound... the ants!
Sam:	Ah! Get them off me. (He swats at his legs)
Chunyu:	You’re destroying the kingdom!! They’re all going to die. Get off them!
Chunyu pushes Sam out of the way.
Sam:	You’re a bloody psycho!
Sam leaves in a bad mood. Chunyu ignores this and searches on the ground. Maya enters. She rushes off, very upset.
Chunyu:	(shouts) Maya –
Music. Juana enters.
Juana:	Zao (早). Good morning Charles Fenn.
Chunyu:	Look at the ants, the colony is smashed!
Juana:	Wo kandao le (我看到了) I see them. Have you been dreaming, Charles Fenn?
Chunyu:	No, no... I don’t know. No, I was there, it was real.
He stares at the site of the ruined ants' nest, slightly unsure.
	Look, look here. This is the Sophora Kingdom and this must be the Southern Bough. Here’s the Jade Tower where…
Pause.
	I lived here... there... for twenty years.
Juana:	And were they happy years?
Chunyu:	Yes, of course, I was a Lord… I was Prime Minister… I had Yaofang – I had…I had…
Juana:	Everything you ever wanted.
Chunyu:	What?
Juana:	Were you there for her when she needed you?
Chunyu:	Look... yes… no, I mean, that’s not the point…
He scrambles on the floor, trying to fix the ant mound. Juana takes his hand, pulls him up and looks at him straight in the eye.
Juana:	To reach the worlds of emptiness, One has to get beyond desires. Shijian wanwu jie xuwu, ni bixu fangxia xinzhong de yuwang. (世间万物皆虚无，你必须放下心中的欲望)
Chunyu:	The ants... it... can't have been a dream. It was so real...
Juana:	Does it matter? What really matters, Charles Fenn? How strange that the flower we see does not exist! It’s a dreamland that haunts the mind. A long dream doesn’t take much time. A short dream won’t be noted down. ‘People are like ants dreaming under the Southern Bough.’ Xiao konghua yanjiao wu gen xi (笑空花眼角无根系) Mengjing jiang ren zhi (梦境将人滞) Chang meng bu duoshi (长梦不多时) Duan meng wu beiji (短梦无碑记)     Putianxia meng nan ke ren siyi (普天下梦南柯人似蚁)
The lights change and the music swells. Images are projected on the screen, much like the montage at the start of the piece. 1616, Qiongying, Itty, the Queen and finally Yaofang walk on stage and pass Chunyu. Only Yaofang pauses.
Chunyu:	(All in Mandarin only) (To 1616) (Thank you for your service). Xiexie ni de bang zhu (谢谢你的帮助) (To Qiongying) (Thank you for your friendship). Xiexieni dui wo zheme youhao (谢谢你对我这么友好) (To Itty) (Thank you for the lesson you taught me). Xiexie ni jiao gei wo de (谢谢你教给我的) (To the Queen) (Thank you for your faith). Xiexie ni xinren wo (谢谢你信任我)
Yaofang appears.
Chunyu:	Thank you for everything Xiexie ni wei wo zuo de yiqie (谢谢你为我做的一切) Wo ai ni (我爱你) (In English) I love you.
Pause.
Juana points to the remains of the ant mound.
Juana:	Goodbye Charles Fenn. Remember, ‘People are like ants dreaming under the Southern Bough.’
Chunyu:	(In Mandarin only) Pu tianxia Meng Nanke ren si yi (普天下梦南柯人似蚁) (‘People are like ants dreaming under the Southern Bough’).
Juana smiles at this and leaves. Maya enters.
Maya:	Are you ok now? Sam thinks you’ve lost it.
Chunyu:	Actually…
Pause.
	I think I’m fine. How about you?
Maya:	I’m getting by.
Chunyu:	I think about Danny a lot.
Maya:	It wasn’t your fault you know.
Chunyu:	I know, it wasn’t yours either.
He reaches his hands out to her and, after a slight hesitation, she takes them.
	(In Mandarin only) Pu tianxia Meng Nanke ren si yi (普天下梦南柯人似蚁)
Maya:	What?
Chunyu:	Something a wise person once told me: ‘People are like ants dreaming under the Southern Bough.’
She gives him an odd look as they begin to leave.

‘A person’s spirit is the real root for one’s life.’ The answer to the question Chunyu didn’t know he needed to ask. Any stage production is ultimately a journey and I don’t feel this one is finished yet. We started the process without fully understanding where our journey would ultimately lead, but as mentioned, we had some guides:

Tell the whole story:
I think our script, even as it has changed and developed, has consistently shown audiences the narrative of Tang’s classic and introduced them to Chunyu and the kingdom of the ants. Thinking back and looking forward, I would like to see music and dance used to a much greater extent, reflecting Tang’s Kunju opera heritage.


Acknowledge both China and the UK in the narrative arc:
With a script featuring both English and Mandarin, I think we achieved this goal, although not perhaps to the level and in the way I anticipated.


Make it compelling for a contemporary audience:
The production was well received in Leeds, reception was less enthusiastic in Edinburgh and extremely positive in China. On one level this is perhaps not surprising, but it does raise some questions about how we repackage and revisit classic texts. The production we took to China was 20 minutes longer than the Edinburgh performance and featured direct audience interaction. The audience interaction was extremely well received, and I think in our attempts to honour Tang and his work we may have not allowed ourselves to be irreverent where irreverence was needed. Again, I think this part of the journey is not over


Try to make it bilingual:
Although our script featured both English and Mandarin, it would be wrong to say that this was a bilingual show. The people of Fuzhou who watched the show were still faced with the same challenge of reading a titling machine or looking at the stage. I am now more convinced than ever that there is a way to overcome the language barrier that separates us.


Adapting and directing Nanke Ji (A Dream Under the Southern Bough) has been an extraordinary experience. I have learned a great deal, particularly about respect and risk. Adaptation is not translation; it requires you to enter into a dialogue with the originator, to understand them, to respect them but to also deny them, challenge them and to have the courage of your own convictions and take risks. Adaptation, like theatre itself, is a dynamic form, constantly evolving, constantly challenging, constantly offering opportunity. Since returning from China, I have already started work on a contemporary folk opera version of Nanke Ji. I’m already starting to dream again…