^{Photo：Eric Hong @ Moon 9 Image}

People say that there are two colours in life: red before mid-life, when one frequently receives wedding invitations from old classmates and good friends; and white after mid-life, as one begins to farewell peers or the older generation at funerals. Who would have thought that we would see a dance piece that encompasses both colours and their symbolic meanings on stage? That work is Double Happiness: The Promise of Red, choreographed by Mui Cheuk-yin and jointly performed by Mui and Chan Kin-man. While the house programme remarks that the dance “reflect[s] on commitment and sincerity veiled in traditional wedding rituals”, its inquiry extends from a woman’s destiny in marriage to the life story of a city. Mui has two sets of costumes on stage, beginning with a two-piece white wedding dress and later changing into a red Chinese wedding gown. Although celebratory attire in Western culture is almost always in white, it is the default colour of mourning clothing in Chinese tradition. The theme “wedding as funeral” thereby runs through the entire performance, interweaving the double meanings of celebration and death, and commitment and violence. This is a counter-ritual story, and at the same time an allegory of our times.

American performance theorist Richard Schechner points out that rituals or ceremonies are a kind of behaviour related to collective memory; they help us in dealing with and processing difficulties in life, conflicting relationships, as well as situations of violent interventions brought about by everyday normalities such as hierarchies and desires. Through enacting a series of encoded actions, these rituals and ceremonies allow one to enter a new stage. The wedding ceremony is, for example, a ritual that signifies one’s stepping into adulthood, the bearing of responsibilities and the reproduction of new lives. In Double Happiness, however, Mui begins her inquiry with the traditional practice of arranged marriage, and depicts how women, under the pressure from parents and matchmakers, were forced to marry into an unknown family with a husband whom they had never met. Their fear and anxiety are transformed into a haunting imagery on stage. There are three interwoven thematic lines in Double Happiness: the first is the “bridal laments of the walled village women”, which includes choreography with elements taken from 1960s bridal lamenting rituals. The bed on which the bride is bade farewell by her sisters and companions is transformed into a site of violence, as the woman is sent to the bridal chamber and receives sexual intercourse with a stranger in a way that resembles rape––all in the name of passing on the family line. A trampoline is set on stage, along with plenty of red cloth hung above. Mui sits and jumps on the trampoline while carrying the red cloth, creating a series of restless body movements while exerting discordant chants. As sex and violence are narrated by immensely bloody visual sensations, the lighting suddenly turns blue, and the sea of red transforms into a black curtain, portraying the shadows of death in an eerie manner: the celebratory colour red emits signals of danger – it is the culprit behind depriving a woman of her purity, youth and life in an overpowering way.

The second is “Guangdong weddings”. Chan Kin-man, who works as a male dai kum (wedding chaperone) in real life, presents wedding customs in the form of theatre. Blessings such as “the calliandra flower symbolises happiness and togetherness”, “by the light of the dragon-phoenix candles, let’s open the Heavenly Book of Destined Lovers” and “enjoy wedding tea, it heralds success and wealth” are mixed with vibrations, elongated or truncated narratives, strange and whimsical tones and Latin dancing moves as an attempt to satirise and question whether celebratory blessings can truly realise the commitment of happiness, or whether these phrases have gradually become cliches. During the betrothal ceremony, Chan replaces auspicious items such as dragon-phoenix candles, bridal cakes, coconuts, dried seafood, candies and tea leaves with everyday items including brooms, shovels, fire distinguishers, plastic chains and artificial flowers, thereby creating a humorous, ironic and defamiliarising effect, bringing the audience to a laugh. The third is the intertextuality of the lyrics from two acts of the Cantonese Opera Princess Cheung Ping, namely “The Fragrant Tragedy” and “The Fragrant Sacrifice”. Sorrowful tunes sung by Yam Kim-fai and Pak Suet-sin such as “[t]he willow tree is our hibiscus shelter / A prince consort from a fallen dynasty beholds his bride” and “[a] flowing fabric befitting a loving maiden has become a funeral banner” fill the entire theatre. This classic opera by Tong Tik-sang is essentially a story of romance in troubled times: the day of the protagonists’ marriage is precisely the day of the country’s demise, and the couple’s wedding night becomes the evening of their defiant suicide. Double Happiness’s reference to this story is to affirm and deepen the metaphor of “wedding as funeral”.

What is called “allegory” is in fact a type of fictional writing: hidden concepts and inquiries relating to history, ethics, philosophy or religion lay beneath the narrative on the surface, demonstrating a metaphysical kind of poetic quality and affect through the mimesis of reality. The allegory of Double Happiness involves two complex structures subdued under what appears to be common wedding rituals on the surface. The first touches upon women’s destiny and the violent institution of marriage mentioned above, while the second illustrates the demise of a city. In the scene “Disorder That Can’t Be Smoothed Out”, Chan raps lyrics written by Chris Shum, beginning with “[f]irst combing, may your marriage last a lifetime”, then moving onto twenty-five combing gestures that address Hong Kong’s post-1997 historical and social changes, with phrases such as “may the grounds of your home be blessed with peace”, “no plague like SARS will ever return”, “long live ATV and Wong Wai-kay”, “may new films premiere up north”, “may you sell your property at Cyberport”, “buy a floating seafood restaurant” and “LeaveHomeSafe and doctors” transcend the theatre’s spectacle to deeper allegorical meanings – the reflection of a city’s destiny through wedding ceremonies. We understand marriage to be a contract, but is the survival of a city not also based on one? On the stage, a woman marries a man – could we not also comprehend a city’s destiny under a regime change in a similar manner? Is it an arranged marriage or a result of reciprocal love? Does one simply follow parents’ choice or have the freedom to choose one’s spouse? Is it a shared commitment or a shirk of responsibility? Is it a lifelong pact or a promise to be broken? Is it mutual respect or degradation? Is it harmony or violence?

Double Happiness is a wedding without the groom. Where is the groom? Who in fact is the hidden groom? The woman in red serves tea as if she is worshipping the dead and keeps her hair as if it’s the call of death – horror penetrates every step of the way. Sounds of suona appear in the background. One cannot help but be confused – are they celebratory wedding music or funeral tunes?

^References:

• ^{Schechner, Richard. Performance Studies: An Introduction. New York & London: Routledge, 2nd Edition. 2002.}
•  ^{Preminger, Alex ed. Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics. New Jersey: Princeton UP, Enlarged Edition.}

^{Originally published in Hong Kong in the June 2023 issue of City Magazine.}