Snakes ─ no planes
by Hakuin Jimmu

The Legend of Lady White Snake, staged by the Zhulong Tea House, is a germane reminder that while the course of true love never did run smooth, it becomes white-water rapids when the lovers are a human and a snake (not that there’s anything wrong with that).
Yet despite the social relevance of its “ripped-from-the-Weekly-World-News-headlines” nature, which so often manifests in trite and predictable story-telling, the opera is dramatically satisfying and emotionally compelling.
Like the Danish “Little Mermaid” or the Turkish “Yuxa,” the heart of Lady White Snake is a classic tale of a cold-blooded animal turning into a warm, human woman.
That this archetype can be found in so many cultures is probably a tribute to its wish-fulfilling reversal of the transformation seen in normal life.
As for the plot, it is too well-known to recount in detail so I will only cover the highlights. Two spirit-snakes, Bai Su and her younger sister Xiao Quin, decide to try life as humans.
In a classic meet-cute situation involving rain, a wet dress, and Xu Xian (a charming apothecary’s assistant with a convenient umbrella), Bai Su quickly falls in love.
After a suitable courtship rife with song and dance overseen by the invisible shades of Gene Kelly, Irving Berlin, and Ewan McGregor, the two become man and snake.
Enter the pious monk, Fai Hai, who, like all representatives of hide-bound authority, disapproves of any deviation from normalcy, especially when it involves cross-species marriage.
In a series of devious manoeuvres he succeeds in creating tragedy and
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ultimately trapping Bai Su in a bowl,
thereby putting new meaning to the phrase "bowled over."
Naturally, by the end of the final act everything works out, but during the interim the drama runs high.
The two maidens playing the parts of the White and Green Snake Spirits are winsome to the extreme and sing in the well-honed manner of Oriental cats challenging each other for territorial rights.
Xu Xian sets new standards for future leading men, especially when he’s dancin' and singin' in the rain. And Fai Hai is that rare villain: a man not inherently evil, but evil by virtue of a deeply felt character flaw (think John Malkovich in a robe).
The spectacular actors are aided by their spectacular surroundings.
The sets are lush and the special effects flawless ─ with the exception of a slight squeak that could really only be heard by those sitting close to the stage.
To highlight special moments in the plot a troupe of Chinese acrobats tumble across the stage like a particularly agile Greek chorus.
A truly magnificent performance, and one which I highly encourage everyone to see at the Zhulong Teahouse in romantic Xi Hu.
Tickets are still available but selling fast
New Year at the Zhulong
by Huidai Huang
For it's production of The Legend of Lady White Snake, The Zhulong Tea House rolled out the red carpet to welcome attending glitterati.
Guests arrived by rickshaw, Roman chariot, sidhe horse and even a slightly listing flying carpet to partake in three evenings of partying, feasting, and operatic sturm und drang ─ Chinese style, of course.
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It started with a New Year's Celebration Banquet during which several of the cast members munched and mingled with the hoi polloi.
Xiao Quin, who plays the part of the mischievous little sister Lady Green Snake, welcomed the guests and started them on the first course which consisted of eight cold dishes.
She was joined a little later by Bai Su (Lady White Snake) who'd been delayed by a late rehearsal ─ or so she claimed.
It must have been an odd rehearsal since the rest of the cast was at the dinner ─ well, excluding Xu Xian, the leading man who also was missing in action.
During the course of the meal, guests were treated to several screenings relating to Chinese opera and acrobatics, including a filmed version of the Lady White Snake legend and a children's cartoon clip with no English subtitles, which left the audience wondering why the man strangled the little white snake.
Bai Su and Xiao Quin attract their fair share of secret admirers.
After the final bow, the three opera stars slipped discreetly out the teahouse door, into a waiting sedan and off to a private party in Paris, but not before a mysterious English aristocrat who goes by the name of Lord Ariston presented Xiao Quin with a bouquet of roses and his calling card.
When Bai Su and Xiao Quin returned to their luxurious Xi Hu mansion the next day, they found twenty cartloads of lilies and lotus blossoms waiting for them with a note from the esteemed Roman general Julius Caesar that said, "To the divine hua dan."
Presumably he meant Bai Su, since he couldn't keep his eyes off her all night and asked to be introduced to her after the show. Perhaps he should have sent her an umbrella instead.
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