(Xinhuanet)-- "Wherever there are Chinese people, there is Cantonese opera". The adage may be as true now as it was when first uttered during the Ming dynasty. But equally true is that wherever there is Cantonese opera, there are old Chinese people. And that's the rub for this increasingly marginalised art form.

    With its fanbase literally dying off, it may not be long before opera becomes as viable a form of entertainment as jousting. It's particularly worrying for Xie Hai Tao, since he serves as vice president and public relations specialist of the Guangzhou Cantonese Troupe. "Cantonese opera must catch up with the times," says Xie. "It will not live up to its past, but it will stay alive considerably longer if it makes some changes."

    It′s all a far cry from the opera′s heyday as the heavyweight champion of Chinese popular culture. Originating in the small villages of Foshan, Cantonese opera surged outwards to become a staple entertainment in even the furthest corners of the country. Its appeal was strong enough to survive a ban during the Qing dynasty, during which it disguised itself as Peking opera, and its essence sufficiently durable to follow China′s diaspora to Singapore, Malaysia, Vietnam, America and Australia. 

    Along the way audiences developed a strong connection to the opera that cut across all social strata. Peasant and prosperous alike were able to sing along and decipher the meanings of the performer′s every tone, gesture and expression. In an age before television and wireless there was simply no other show in town.

    Now Cantonese opera has to compete to survive, and Xie and his colleagues are devising ways to attract a younger audience. Their method is simple: add more eye candy, and they will come. The Guangzhou troupe′s mainstay show, Flowers in Moonlight, for instance, boasts a simulated lightning storm, a full moon that changes direction and a glimmering lake complete with live fish - a spectacular contrast to traditional stage settings which often consisted of as little as a table and a couple of chairs. 

    But Flowers was created with more than just eye appeal in mind - its storyline is tailor-made for the sensibilities of a modern generation. The plot still takes place during Qing times, but it presents a moral dilemma many people can identify with today - having to choose between a successful career and a loved one. Playwrights are also striving for more universal appeal by incorporating major historical events into their stories and even adapting Western works such as Shakespeare′s Romeo and Juliet.

    Even the performers are getting into the act. Li Junsheng, lead actor in Flowers, agrees that everyone involved - not just writers and set designers - "must work together to revolutionise the art form". But while Li and his colleagues constantly engage in open forums to discuss ways of melding old forms with new concepts, they′re hesitant to make hasty changes. 

    Zheng Zi Tao, headmaster of the Guangdong Cantonese Opera School, would certainly approve. While agreeing that the art form cannot stay stagnant, Zheng warns that, "All changes must be made with respect to tradition, which is the most important factor. If tradition is ignored, then it is no longer Cantonese opera". Accordingly, in addition to learning and performing traditional operas his students endure a six-hour-a-day back-to-basics regimen that stresses the form′s four basic skills - gymnastics, singing, delivering lines and weapon handling. Once upon a time these were taught in master-apprenticeship systems, but the emergence of Cantonese opera films gave rise to training schools in the 1950s.

    Many of today′s students are drawn to the ancient art form by the opera performances and competitions they see on television. One was only five-years-old when she began imitating the shows she studied on TV every night. Now at eight-years-old she is the school′s youngest student, though most aspirants begin training at the age of 12. According to Zheng, 600 or so students compete every year for only 50 coveted spots at his school. They come from all over China these days - nine of the new kids hail from Harbin - whereas before nearly all had hometowns in Guangdong province.

    Because of these changes Zheng is quite hopeful about the future of Cantonese opera, but he′s also progressive-minded in planning for his students′ careers. To ensure that 100 per cent of his graduates find work in opera houses, he hires only professional singers, actors and athletes as teachers. They too are encouraged to experiment with modern methods of training and performing since many Cantonese opera houses look to the school for cutting-edge ideas and adaptations.

    Case in point is one senior student, Liang Miao Ting, who points to a new play written by her teacher as proof that Cantonese opera can still appeal to a young crowd. "It has very vivid fighting scenes, some without weapons," she enthuses. "One act is in a restaurant with tables and chairs set high so the actors can jump off! It requires a lot of skill, but it′s very exciting for us."

    Just as critically, Cantonese opera also seems malleable enough to embrace pop culture. Opera CDs have been available for years, and karaoke VCDs are now on the market. Melodies from modern pop songs are being written into opera tunes and played by traditional orchestras. Scripts have been translated into English in Hong Kong since 1947, and they are becoming an increasingly popular way to teach the language in English schools there. 

    For Ni Huiying, acclaimed actress and president of the Guangzhou Cantonese Troupe, the survival of this ancient art form is certain. "New trends in art will always emerge, but Cantonese opera will never vanish because it represents of our national culture," she says. "It′s already imbedded in the soul of the people. It runs in our blood." Enditem (thatsmagazines.com)