May 14th, 2008
The awareness of the shamanic aspect of acting (the actor as an agent of positive change in society) is one of the things that I liked in “The King of Masks.”
Society has always been ambivalent to actors.
On the one hand, people are fascinated by the magical, yes, shamanic capacity of the actor to become other than what and who he is. Acting was first done by priests/shamans. There has always been that mystical/divine/spiritual/religious aspect to acting.
And yet, because of that possibility of entering into the nature of “things,” actors themselves can be waylaid and thrown off, especially by the dark daemonic qualities of persons and things. This is what probably scares a lot of people. Actors get to cross boundaries and societal taboos with some measure of impunity – anyway they’re just fulfilling their roles. But when the iconoclasm breaks through from art to real life… uhuh… that’s where it becomes dangerous and suspicious.
Thus actors too were regarded as immoral people, lumped with the gypsies and criminal elements.
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In the “King of Masks,” Master Liang (dubbed as “the Living Boddhisattva”) says, “We are only actors and we don’t count for much in our society.” Yet he also says that “in a cold world, we bring some warmth.”
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The adulation that our present society have for actors or for showbusiness is indicative of how much we have lost sight of the shamanic quality of acting. Why do people want to become actors? Because actors (in film, in showbiz) have money, fame, influence, affluence, etc. Of course, some people have pointed out that a lot of these so-called actors (in film and television) are not really actors, but celebrities.
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Art can be more than fluff and entertainment. There is nothing wrong with entertainment. But I really prefer art that inspires, disturbs, and lets us imagine the better possibilities for ourselves and our world.
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Art imitates life. But life too can imitate art. Someone said, a romantic poet (Shelley?), that poets (and by extension, artists and philosophers) are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.
In the movie, Doggie watches a Chinese opera entitled “Attaining Nirvana” with his “boss/grandfather.”
In the play, a man (a king) is to be condemned to hell for his life of iniquity. His daughter, the princess, with filial duty, pleads for her father’s salvation. The wrathful deities (aspects of the Buddha) remain unrelenting in their judgment. The law is the law (dhamma is dhamma) and it cannot be bent for any one individual.
The princess threatens to cut off the rope from which she is hanging to plunge to her death if they don’t spare her father.
She does so, and falls. But rises again as a Boddhisatva.
The play made a deep impression on Doggie. A keen audience would sense that she identifies with the princess.
Later, the plant pays off with Doggie hanging by a rope (upside down) from the roof where Master Liang has performed before the general of the army. She pleads for the life of her innocent grandfather who was convicted of kidnapping. She threatens to cut off the rope if her plea remains unheard. The general thinks she is bluffing and starts to leave. She cuts off the rope and falls…
And that is where the “emotional blackmail” of the film could be found…
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I disagree with the interpretation that “that particular scene” was planned by Doggie in collusion with Master Liang. Although she was very enterprising, I don’t think she’d prevail upon Master Liang to do a scene (in imitation of the opera) that would put her limb, if not life, in danger.
Filled with love and filial duty for a grandfather who’s not even her real grandfather, she does it on her own, resolved to save her grandfather’s life. Even if it should mean losing her own.
best regards,
thesp-ian
May 17th, 2008 at 5:25 am
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