[Impressions after watching the movie] The ballet “La Traviata” is really perfect!

   
Last night, I saw the Ham­burg Bal­let’s pre­miere of “La Travi­a­ta” at the Nation­al Cen­tre for the Per­form­ing Arts. The expe­ri­ence was beyond my expec­ta­tions, tru­ly breath­tak­ing. Dur­ing the cur­tain call, I clapped my hands with every­one else, unable to con­tain my excite­ment and grat­i­tude. My daugh­ter, tired of clap­ping, asked me, “Dad, don’t your hands hurt from clap­ping so much?” I replied, “It was tru­ly won­der­ful, absolute­ly per­fect! I have to thank them very much, and thank you for rec­om­mend­ing it.” (Haha, because it was real­ly thanks to her that she saw the ad on the sub­way and pestered us to buy tick­ets.)
 
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Still from the bal­let “La Travi­a­ta”
 
   
Alexan­dre Dumas’s “La Dame aux Camélias” was once my favorite romance nov­el. Oth­er favorites include “The Sor­rows of Young Werther,” “Irmensee,” “The Red and the Black,” and “The Grave of the Wild Chrysan­the­mums,” all of which are deeply mov­ing and heart­break­ing. How­ev­er, I’m sor­ry to say I’ve nev­er heard of the bal­let “La Dame aux Camélias” before, though I’ve seen the opera on TV. Hon­est­ly, I was a bit skep­ti­cal after buy­ing the rather expen­sive tick­ets, think­ing of it as a Spring Fes­ti­val gift for my chil­dren.
 
   
I went to the the­ater ahead of time to read the intro­duc­tion and learned that this bal­let fea­tures some twists in its nar­ra­tive, par­tic­u­lar­ly the inclu­sion of “Manon,” a bal­let adapt­ed from the nov­el “Manon,” as a play with­in a play and a mir­ror to the fate of the Lady of the Camel­lias. I thought this was indeed very cre­ative, but it also made the sto­ry more com­pli­cat­ed. How would it be per­formed?
 
   
Before the the­ater had even set­tled down, there was move­ment on the stage. Some­one was milling about among the auc­tion set. I was per­plexed. Could they be busy set­ting up the set? The audi­ence around me seemed equal­ly bewil­dered. Many had­n’t set­tled yet, still milling about, try­ing to find their seats, or bet­ter. It felt a bit chaot­ic, both on and off stage. Then, the lights grad­u­al­ly dimmed, and I knew for sure that the bal­let had begun. But the audi­ence around me was still busy set­tling in. The elder­ly man sit­ting in front of me seemed com­plete­ly con­fused. When he saw the black-clad pro­tag­o­nist (Armand) sud­den­ly col­lapse on the stage, he jok­ing­ly said to his wife, “Hey, he must be drunk!”
 
   
But when the first note sound­ed, the whole audi­ence fell silent, and a warm feel­ing filled my heart. Chopin, ah, it was Chopin! With that famil­iar and enchant­i­ng melody, the bal­let tru­ly began.
 
   
The first act is pri­mar­i­ly nar­ra­tive, with a clear plot and struc­ture. I imag­ine even chil­dren who know at least a lit­tle about the sto­ry will be able to fol­low it. Of course, the ulti­mate thrill is watch­ing Chopin’s music trans­form into beau­ti­ful dance, a dance that actu­al­ly tells a sto­ry, and does so with remark­able clar­i­ty. Wow, it’s all Chopin from begin­ning to end!
 
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The sec­ond act com­plete­ly cap­ti­vat­ed me! I’m sure many in the audi­ence felt the same way. The three pas de deux in the mid­dle were incred­i­bly cap­ti­vat­ing. One depict­ed the mutu­al affec­tion between Lady of the Camel­lias and Armand, anoth­er fea­tured Armand’s father rem­i­nisc­ing about his encounter with her, and final­ly, Lady of the Camel­lias’s forced smile and the ten­der embrace she shared with Armand before their final farewell. The third pas de deux was espe­cial­ly thrilling, and I could­n’t con­tain my excite­ment. A surge of elec­tric­i­ty coursed through my body.
 
   
I think George Sand once said that Chopin’s music is like a lover’s caress. Indeed, I sense a faint melan­choly smile and a gen­tle, sweet sigh in many of Chopin’s melodies. But tonight, thanks to this incred­i­bly beau­ti­ful bal­let, I felt a renewed sense of the pro­found pathos and poignant beau­ty hid­den with­in Chopin’s melody! From then on, Chopin was no longer the same Chopin.
 
   
The poignant beau­ty of the third act, right up to the very end, pierces the heart. The direc­tor’s super­po­si­tion of Manon’s tragedy with that of the Lady of the Camel­lias seems to sug­gest a cer­tain fatal­ism. As I watched the ter­mi­nal­ly ill Lady of the Camel­lias force her­self to apply heavy blush, don a scar­let dress, and wear a black veil, arriv­ing at the the­ater for her final view­ing of Manon’s trag­ic con­clu­sion, I closed my eyes sev­er­al times, unable to bear to watch any longer.
 
   
That chore­o­g­ra­ph­er, Mr. Neumeier, who is said to be a mas­ter of bal­let, was tru­ly heart­less. He adapt­ed the end­ing of Alexan­dre Dumas’s fils, so that even though Manon could still die in the arms of her lover, he made the Lady of the Camel­lias fall alone in her apart­ment. Sigh~~~
 

    
This long sigh con­tin­ued until I woke up this morn­ing, and I had to write down a few words to share with you.
 

    
I just want to say that friends who have the oppor­tu­ni­ty to watch it should not miss it. Friends who love “La Dame aux Camélias” or Chopin should espe­cial­ly not miss it. For friends who love both, it is real­ly a super feast!
 
   
In addi­tion, it is espe­cial­ly suit­able for friends who have not tast­ed the intox­i­ca­tion and heart­break of being in love for a long time, that wave of crazy heartache…
 
Ajia …
Feb­ru­ary 4, 2010, Bei­jing