In an age of relentless digital distraction, one of China's most venerable art forms is engaged in a delicate balancing act. Peking opera, with roots stretching back to the Qing Dynasty and the imperial court of the Forbidden City, is striving to maintain its relevance and flourish against the tide of modern entertainment.
A Decade of Sweat and Tears for a Dazzling Chair Trick
The spotlight falls on 30-year-old actress Zhang Wanting. On a Sunday afternoon in early September, in a modern Beijing theatre, she captivated an audience of over 100 with her performance in 'The Masked Heroine'. Dressed in vibrant red-and-white warrior costume, Zhang performed a breathtaking stunt, balancing on one foot on the narrow handle of a rosewood chair while striking a pose like a flying swallow. This moment was the culmination of a dream she had held since childhood.
Zhang's journey began in China's northern Hebei province when she was just seven years old. Fascinated by children practising at a cultural centre, she soon discovered a natural talent and steely determination. After primary school, she left home to attend a theatre school in Jiangsu province, embracing the gruelling regimen typical for Peking opera performers, who start training extremely young to build the necessary physical strength and flexibility.
The chair trick is a signature of the Song School of Peking opera, founded in the early 20th century. Zhang's teacher, artist Song Danju, inherited it from her father and revitalised it by blending martial arts with acrobatic movements from folk opera. The sequence is extraordinarily demanding, involving jumping through the chair's frame, balancing on the 8.5-centimetre-wide handle, and spinning the chair with one palm.
"The first thing I have to overcome is my fear," Zhang admits. She spent an entire semester just conquering that fear, carrying a chair everywhere to practise. Each component of the trick required months of repetition. For the jump, she set a daily goal of 50 leaps into the chair's narrow back frame, often ending the day with trembling muscles and bruised thighs. The breakthrough came, she says, when "standing on the chair no longer feels so strenuous."
Young Artists Championing Tradition in a Modern World
For much of the 19th and early 20th centuries, Peking opera was a dominant form of urban entertainment. Today, it faces intense competition from digital media and contemporary performing arts. Yet, a growing cohort of young artists like Zhang are dedicating their lives to its preservation and evolution.
In 'The Masked Heroine', Zhang plays Wan Xiangyou, a chivalrous woman who becomes a militia leader. She skilfully integrates the complex chair technique into the plot, such as during an interrogation scene where she holds the challenging tanhai pose—literally "gazing over the sea"—on the chair handle. "A play without skill is not amazing; a play without emotion is not moving," Zhang explains, citing a classic saying.
Now a professional with the prestigious Jingju Theatre Company of Beijing, Zhang has performed in over 150 shows in nine years. For her, progress is a lifelong pursuit. "I just want to make progress step by step and perform each show the best I can," she states. The ultimate reward remains the sound of applause from an engaged audience.
The Enduring Appeal Against Digital Onslaught
The art form's future may hinge on its ability to connect with contemporary spectators. Audience members like 26-year-old Yang Hecheng, a teacher at the Beijing Film Academy who attended Zhang's September performance, are testament to its enduring power. "What attracts me most is the beauty and spirit shown in the performer's techniques on stage," he observed after seeing the full chair sequence for the first time.
Zhang Wanting's story is one of immense personal sacrifice and artistic devotion. It highlights a broader narrative within cultural heritage sectors worldwide: the struggle to sustain nuanced, physically demanding traditional arts in a fast-paced, screen-saturated society. The cheers that echoed through the Beijing theatre suggest that, through the dedication of performers like Zhang, the ancient art of Peking opera still has the power to command a modern stage.
