If ever a play was crying out to be made into an opera, it’s David Henry Hwang’s M. Butterfly. The 1988 Tony award-winning drama explored the west’s infatuation with the idea of the Asian woman as submissive victim, in part inspired by Puccini’s 1904 weepie. Hwang, an Asian American, used it as a lens through which to examine the curious case of a real-life French diplomat who had a 20-year sexual affair with a Beijing opera singer without ever realising “she” was a “he”. It all ended in a salacious trial after the singer was discovered to have been feeding sensitive information to his masters in the Chinese Communist party.
In this opera by Chinese-born composer Huang Ruo, premiered in Santa Fe in 2022, René Gallimard, the ambitious if slightly dim diplomat, allows his sexual fantasies to inform his professional view of international affairs. The east, he predicates, longs to be mastered by the west. By failing to foresee the collapse of regional western ambitions, his downfall is ensured.
Huang has done an effective job of filleting his script to produce a libretto, arias, duets, choruses and all, without attenuating the tantalising question of who knew what and when. The remarkable central performances here manage to keep us guessing right until the end. Is Gallimard gay, or afraid he might be? Is the opera singer, Song Liling, merely a manipulative sexual chameleon, or does the diva actually fall in love? A party official’s reminder that homosexuality is forbidden in Mao’s China pulls us up short, forcing us to reassess Song’s vulnerabilities and motivations.
The music is tonal, immediate and colourful, with motoric rhythms, lyrical oases and an occasional dose of sonic overload. Western instruments are complemented by typically eastern percussion – bell trees, woodblocks, temple gongs, etc – to change location or conjure the Chinese opera. As for the Puccini, with the exception of Song Liling’s upfront rendition of Un Bel Dì, Ruo has it ooze almost subliminally through the texture of his 21st-century score. Carolyn Kuan, conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra and BBC Singers, drives a tautly disciplined reading.
Revived by Kimberley Prescott, James Robinson’s minimalist staging, a co-production between the Barbican and BBCSO, is enhanced by Greg Emetaz’s evocative video projections. As Gallimard, Mark Stone sings with imposing heft and immaculate diction. His journey from ambassadorial sang-froid to emotional collapse wrings the heart. Kangmin Justin Kim is hypnotic as Song, his powerful countertenor and subtle mannerisms creating a multidimensional portrait. Among the secondary roles, Fleur Barron stands out as the severely orthodox Comrade Chin.
With today’s greater awareness of gender fluidity, M. Butterfly may have lost some of its original power to startle, but with racial stereotyping as prevalent as ever, it retains the ability to challenge and enthral.
