Pondering how Chinese operas sing through time 中国戏曲繁荣的原因

I recently sat in a children’s classroom, clutching a spear, and stretching and rubbing my aching body.

我最近在一间儿童教室里抓着矛，伸展酸痛的身体。

I’d joined a lesson for kids studying Peking Opera for a documentary shoot.

这些孩子在为了纪录片拍摄学习京剧，我也混迹其中。

And I was quickly realizing that performing this genre is not only more difficult but also more painful than it looks.

我很快意识到京剧不仅难学，表演过程也比看上去痛苦。

Virtually every pose was like a stress position, with the greatest amount of strain put on the hands and fingers that often should curl backward.

每个姿势都充满压力，双手和手指都承受了巨大的压力。

The straps securing the four flags to my back skewered my spine and shoulders into a misconfigured posture.

背上的四面旗子让我的脊椎处于很别扭的姿势。

And the headdress designed to tug my face toward my scalp, against gravity’s natural direction, left me with a magnificent headache and stiff cheeks.

头上缠的水纱让我头疼，脸颊僵硬。

The 8- to 10-year-olds had made Peking Opera basics look easy. But they aren’t, I know now.

这些八到十岁的孩子做的基础动作看上去很轻松，但我现在知道了，这并不轻松。

Even the “stroking the beard” motion, which is simply scooping up fake facial hair and flipping its bottom upward with a theatrical wrist flick, is far trickier than it appears.

即使是“捋胡子”的动作也没有说起这么简单。

The teacher had selected the move to teach me as a first-timer because it’s about the easiest.

京剧老师选了这个最容易的动作教我这个初学者。

But I failed to execute it — maybe a couple-dozen times. Definitely every time.

然而我做了好多次都不行。

I’d presumed performing Peking Opera was like playing piano — easy to grasp the fundamentals but difficult to master.

我原来以为京剧表演类似于弹钢琴，入门容易精通难。

Instead, I found, even the easiest parts are pretty darn hard.

Makeup alone can take three hours. I’d heard this previously. But it was different to actually undergo the process.

不过现在我发现最简单的动作也非常难。

I got the least-elaborate facial paint. It took an hour but still required several more layers than I’d imagined.

我脸上的妆容已经是简易版，但依然有很多层，花了一小时才画好。

Oh! Did my face itch! But I couldn’t scratch it — even a little — lest I undo the extensive labor invested in applying the makeup.

啊，脸上好痒，却没法挠，我不能破坏大家的付出。

I wanted to test my phone’s facial recognition but didn’t get a chance. Later, I sent photos to my wife. She, at least, didn’t recognize me.

我本来想检验一下手机的面部识别系统但是一直没机会。后来我给老婆发了一张照片，她都没认出来这是我。

I didn’t recognize myself without glasses — or with them.

我戴着眼镜也没认出来自己。

It took about 20 minutes, a dozen wet wipes and a lot of running water to retrieve my real face.

卸妆花了20分钟和一堆湿巾和水。

The experience instilled a newfound admiration for not only the ancient art form but also the new generation carrying it into the future.

这段经历让我不仅尊敬这种古老的艺术形式，还有新一代的京剧演员。

It made me realize, more deeply, the challenges to preserving Chinese operas’ various genres and titles.

我更深刻地认识到保护中国戏曲种类和名称面临的挑战。

It’s not just that they’re waning in popularity among audiences, especially in the era of viral videos.

在这个视频时代，戏曲正在丧失流行度。

Those who aspire to become performers must overcome obvious hardships like small audiences and low pay, plus those that are less immediately apparent, such as physical discomfort and spiritual devotion.

立志成为戏曲表演者的人必须忍受观众少和收入低的很多困难，还有身体上的不适合精神上的付出。

It’s virtually impossible to truly conquer the techniques unless one starts at a young age, the teacher told me.

京剧老师告诉我，除非有童子功，否则一个人很难真正掌握表演技巧。

Anyone who takes a break — even for a short while — must restart training from scratch, he said.

任何人即使中途休息了很短的时间，也要从伸拉训练重新开始。

Some have criticized innovative attempts to carry Chinese operas into contemporary times.

一些让戏曲融入现代社会而做出的创新举动受到指责。

A growing number of troupes are incorporating such elements as pop music, multimedia formats and contemporary motifs.

越来越多的剧团在戏曲里融入了流行乐、多媒体和现代情节。

Purists may poke their noses skyward.

坚持传统的人可能对此嗤之以鼻。

But tradition isn’t static.

但传统并非静止不动。

Chinese operas have continued to adapt over centuries and decades, and shouldn’t stop — especially now.

中国戏曲已经适应发展了数百年，不应停止前进。

I thought about this as I watched one of the kids leave the studio.

我看到一个孩子离开摄影棚时想到了这些。

The boy, about 9, hopped off the building’s stoop and nonchalantly bounced his umbrella’s handle off his knee to open it, using a move we’d tried with spears in class.

这个九岁的男孩用课堂上学到的使矛的方法打开了雨伞。

He was deploying the art form’s legacy in real life, offstage.

他在舞台下的真实生活中运用了艺术形式。

I watched, kneading my shoulders, as he skipped into the downpour.

我看着他走进雨中，揉了揉肩膀。

Before attending the class, I’d decided to leave Chinese operas’ futures to the professionals — present and future.

在今天上课前，我觉得中国戏曲的现在和未来掌握在职业表演者手中。

That meant something different at that moment.

不过在那一刻，我改变了想法。