David Henry Hwang

David Henry Hwang’s masterpiece must be heard to be appreciated — no mere reading of the script can do it justice. Nor can David Cronenburg’s film version provide a substitute. With all of the political overtones stripped away, the film M. Butterfly becomes just another of the freak shows for which Cronenburg is so well known.

At its heart, Hwang’s original play reveals how the hubris and ignorance of the West and its preference for the comforting lies of Orientalism over a reality show more too harsh for the West to bear leads to downfall — in Rene Gallimand’s case, a humiliating political and personal one; in the West’s case, a humiliating political and military loss in the Vietnam War. The parallels are obvious, but in Hwang’s hands, so deftly handled that I would recommend the L.A. Theatre Works edition to everyone. show less

Brilliant play. Blah movie. But both are worth getting into. The story is compelling and brings up a number of good points about the faults of Western, white male-dominated culture. Post-colonialism at its best and awfully funny dialogue.

This was a very interesting play, based on historical fact, about a french man who falls in love with a Chinese diva. She becomes his mistress and stays so for twenty years, at the end of which he discovers that not only is she a spy for the Communist party, but is also a man. The writing is scintillating and intoxicating. The character of the Chinese diva is alluring and multi-dimensional. It's fascinating how the story parallels the opera Madame Butterfly, especially in the way that show more Gallimard, though he thinks he is similar to the womanizer Pinkerton, is actually more similar to Madame Butterfly herself. This play has a fascinating take on what Hwang calls the western Rape mentality towards the East. A fascinating and quick read that I highly recommend. show less

Hwang’s play was written the same year the Supreme Court upheld a law criminalizing homosexual sodomy. (It was performed a couple of years later.) It’s the story of a French diplomat who fell in love with a Chinese opera singer, who for twenty years he believed was a woman. (He never knew that the women’s roles were played by male singers in traditional Beijing opera.) It’s about Orientalism and sexual myths, cultural divides and gender divides, the lies we tell ourselves about other show more people in order to tell ourselves lies about ourselves, and it felt (sadly) fresh and true over twenty years later. show less