The UK’s The Spectator recently published a piece by the Japan specialist Lesley Downer, historical consultant for the Northern Ballet’s 2020 production Geisha. In her essay, Downer wonders why claims of cultural appropriation so dramatically affected the reception of the work, which has not been remounted since its premiere. You can hear her frustration as she questions the validity of negative responses from those of Asian descent—including from people like me, founder of Final Bow for Yellowface, which since 2017 has worked to improve Asian representation in ballet.

Geisha is an original fantasy created by an almost exclusively White creative team that follows two geishas who both get raped during the course of the ballet. It is the latest in a long tradition of ballets with “Oriental” characters and settings, often with the women dying tragically, but beautifully. (For examples and discussion, see Banishing Orientalism: Dancing between Exotic and Familiar.)

Chan, an Asian man with sort black hair wearing a black printed shirt, gives the camera a small smile.
Phil Chan. Photo by Eli Schmidt, courtesy Chan.

I don’t find it helpful to impugn the intentions of the creators of works like Geisha. However, it is essential to consider the impacts of such works on audience members, performers, and our larger society. Kudos to Downer for collaborating with Japanese experts on the story she wanted to tell. What was missing was consideration of the consequences of telling this kind of story—yet again—for today’s diverse audiences.

The Final Bow for Yellowface movement has been having such an impact partly because we’re living in a time of cultural sea change. Representations of Asians on the ballet stage have historically been defined by non-Asians. But today’s audiences are ready to move beyond Orientalism and its worn-out tropes, created by artists of European descent for audiences of European descent. We’ve begun to insist that if we want to set stories and operas in particular cultures, members of those cultures—as well as those who will be affected by its telling—should be collaborators. Someone from Asia used to living in the majority and an Asian living in the minority will likely experience Orientalist works differently. Where someone from Japan might see a funny clown (what’s the harm in that?), a British Japanese person might see a generic “Asian” caricature, made the butt of many Christmas pantos.

When living in the minority, a Japanese Brit and a mixed-race Chinese American like me can both be seen as generic Asians. And storylines that reinforce certain tropes about Asian people—the submissive and highly sexualized geisha, the geeky and effeminate sidekick with thick glasses—have real consequences for us. They range in seriousness from taunts in the schoolyard to being scapegoated and blamed for a pandemic, spat upon, and attacked. The fetishism of Asian women has resulted in actual rapes and horrific killings.

I hope that we would think twice about presenting works that feature even the most sublime choreography, the most beautiful sets and costumes, the most poignant and authentic librettos, once we understand their power to reinforce a long pattern of “othering.” Some of us do not have the luxury of enjoying a fantasy onstage without being affected in everyday life.

My recent focus has been exploring ways to layer new stories over the choreography and music of classical works—Madama Butterfly, La Bayadère—that feature cultural caricatures created by European creatives of the past (who didn’t know better!). These works are so much a part of our history. The goal is to preserve the best of our traditions without the baggage, and without harming the Asians among us.

An elaborate nightclub scene, in which patrons watch from the side as seven lavishly costumed entertainers with fans—including Butterfly, at a center mic—perform.
Boston Lyric Opera’s production of Madama Butterfly, which Chan directed. Photo by Ken Yotsukura, courtesy Boston Lyric Opera.

If there is a company interested in revisiting Geisha, why not rework the libretto alongside Japanese collaborators who are aware of its possible impacts? Aren’t there stories we could tell about Japan that aren’t tragic fantasies about beautiful and sexually submissive Japanese women? In the case of Geisha, a skilled and thoughtful reworking probably wouldn’t even have to change too much of the choreography, sets, or costumes. As someone who directed an award-winning production of Madama Butterfly last year for Boston Lyric Opera, I know firsthand that it is possible for a non-Japanese person to tell an authentic geisha story that both reflects artistic intentions and meets the times.

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