Reimagining the Female of The Oresteia for the Chinese Operatic Stage①
Chen Rongnyu*
Abstract:
From the perspective of the theory and practice of intercultural theater, this article explores the Ping opera Legend of Two Cities, the adaptation from the only extant ancient Greek trilogy Oresteia. The adaptation of ancient Greek tragedies in the form of traditional Chinese operas faces the dual difficulties which are transformations from ancient to modern times, and from the West to the East as well. The queen Kelüdai (Clytemnestra) in Legend of Two Cities is not only a termagant murdering her husband, but also a female figure with much complex emotional performances than the original. As a result, her appearance has enriched the images of royal females in the upper strata of power without losing their motherhood in Chinese operas. The adaptation of Legend of Two Cities has widely absorbed the strengths of Chinese and Greek theater with special focus on incorporating the operatic concept of “emotional ontology”. Intercultural operas have dual-orientational value and significance for both Western theatrical classics and Chinese operas, that is to enrich the performing aesthetics of characters on stage globally.
Keywords: Intercultural Chinese Opera, ancient Greek tragedies, Oresteia, Ping opera Legend of Two Cities
Prologue
In the 20th century, Western and Eastern theaters experienced over fifty years of exchanges and interactions.
*Chen Rongnyu, Professor at Beijing Language and Culture University.
① This paper presents a partial research outcome of a project supported by National Social Science Fund of China, “A Study on the Literary Formation of Aliens in the Exchange of Ancient Eurasian Civilizations (Grant No.: 20&ZD283). Additionally, it is supported by the Discipline Team Support Program at Beijing Language and Culture University (Grant No.: 19PT06).**
Thereafter, intercultural theater evolved into a significant trend across the globe both in stage practice and theoretical discourse. Under such circumstances, Chinese theater began to interculturally adapt a great number of foreign classic plays into traditional xiqu (‘traditional Chinese opera’) in an active manner. Particularly, the adaptation and performance of ancient Greek dramas into Chinese xiqu, referred to as “Greek theater staged in the form of Chinese xiqu,” has established an essential position within intercultural xiqu, despite the relatively small quantity of adaptations.[1]
The transplantation and adaptation of certain works of Western classical plays into Chinese xiqu prove challenging for a variety of reasons. These include a lack of conflict and action in the plot, themes that may not resonate universally, and difficulties in adapting the language of the original works. Among the three major Greek tragedians, Aeschylus’ works are rarely adapted into huaju (spoken drama in China), let alone xiqu.① As of 2021, the only Aeschylean drama adapted into Chinese xiqu is Chengbang enchou (Legend of Two Cities 城邦恩仇), a Ping opera that exemplifies intercultural adaptation in the second decade of the 21st century. Based on the Oresteia trilogy, this piece was written by Guo Qihong, directed by Luo Jinlin, and performed by the China Ping Opera Theatre.
I. The Challenges of Adapting The Oresteia
Of the three major Greek tragedians, Aeschylus is the eldest, historically revered as the “Father of Tragedy.” His works are characteristic of early tragedies, where lyricism often outweighs narrative progression, and his language is both dignified and elaborate. This has earned him the admiration of classical scholars and philosophers, such as Nietzsche and Marx. Yet, in contrast to his successors Sophocles and Euripides, Aeschylus’ plays are considered the most challenging to adapt for the stage, with few modern performances. Aeschylus is particularly skilled in crafting rich and vivid choral odes and is unafraid to experiment on the most grandiose figures.[2] (P26) However, his works have been criticized for lacking conflict and action. Aristotle had already pointed out that “Without action there cannot be a tragedy.” [3](P73) His works impart a prima charm of Greek tragedy. Aeschylus' plays clearly fall short of the intense dramatic conflict emphasized in contemporary theater, regardless of how “action” is defined. Also, the chorus in his plays still plays a central role with its singing and dancing.
The Oresteia is the only extant trilogy from ancient Greek drama, comprising three plays: Agamemnon, Choephori, and The Eumenides. [4] Premiered in 458 BCE, the trilogy presents a complex narrative revolving around cycles of familial blood vengeance. Its language is stark and vigorous, while its tone remains dignified, evoking the grandeur of ancient epic poetry. It is regarded as “the highest achievement of … all Greek drama” and as successful “as the finest work of Sophocles.” [5] (P221)
they are difficult for modern audiences to fully understand. Unless one is an expert, few contemporary viewers would be particularly interested in the detailed historical context. Second, Aeschylus’ works embody his distinctive ideology as an aristocratic warrior and as a playwright from a city-state. In The Oresteia, for example, the characters represent differing concepts of justice. In the end, the narrow conception of justice is subsumed by the broader notion represented by the goddess Athena. [6] (PP6-7) Aeschylus’ relatively conservative view of justice was widely accepted in his time, with Nietzsche even referring to it as “the profound Aeschylean yearning for justice.” [7] (P76) However, modern adapters, who are not inheritors of the tragic ideology of 5th-century Attica, are almost certain to modify Aeschylus’ central themes: either by extending and reinterpreting his ideas to develop new dimensions of contemporary understanding or by stripping away the original philosophical content and creating a new narrative based on the play’s original structure. The above highlights the inherent difficulty in navigating ancient and modern interpretations of intercultural adaptations.
Throughout history, the tragic saga of the house of Atreus has been adapted and reshaped by numerous writers, including Seneca in ancient Rome, Voltaire during the Enlightenment, and 20th-century figures such as Eugene O’Neill, Jean-Paul Sartre, and, more recently, 21st-century Irish novelist Colm Tóibín. Since the 20th century, adaptations and performances of The Oresteia have become more varied, extending beyond the stage to include opera and film. In 1909, Richard Strauss collaborated with Hugo von Hofmannsthal on the one-act opera Electra, which premiered in Germany. Following the development of cinema, directors from Greece, Germany, the United Kingdom, and other nations adapted the story for film. Eastern directors have also shown interest, with Japanese directors Tadashi Suzuki and Yukio Ninagawa directing stage adaptations of the story.① However, since the 20th century, modern productions have tended to focus on only one or a few isolated episodes—such as the murder of Agamemnon or Orestes’ killing of his mother—with full adaptations of the entire trilogy being relatively rare. Contemporary performances often vary in style: some seek to revive the ancient Greek tradition of mask theater,② while others present the story in modern dress. Among these modern adaptations, some remain closely aligned with the original Greek texts, while others diverge significantly, offering bold and inventive reinterpretations of the source material.
Since the rise of the intercultural xiqu movement in the 1980s, notable successes have included Peking opera adaptations such as Aosailuo (Othello), Qingshang zhonglou (Tragic Love in the Clock Tower from Victor Hugo’s Hunchback of Notre Dame), and Wangzhe edi (Oedipus the King); Kunqu opera Xueshouji (The Bloody Hand from Macbeth); Sichuan opera Yuhai kuangchao (Turbulent Waves of Desire from O’Neill’s Desire Under the Elms); Hebei Bangzi adaptations Meidiya (Medea) and Tebai cheng (The City of Thebes); Yue opera Xinbi tiangao (Heart Higher Than the Sky from Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler); and Henan opera Zhuli xiaojie (Miss Julie). After 2010, the adaptation of foreign works using long-established Chinese opera traditions like Peking opera, Sichuan opera, and Hebei Bangzi became relatively common. However, adapting ancient Greek drama into a Ping opera is still a groundbreaking endeavor. In contrast to the mature and sophisticated traditions of Peking and Kunqu opera, Ping opera is regarded as folk theater: its history is shorter, its development less mature, its language more colloquial, and its degree of conventionalization is not as refined as genres like Peking opera. Additionally, Ping opera often deals with more mundane and domestic themes. Since Aeschylus’ works are renowned for their lyricism, and The Oresteia addresses solemn and brutal themes, making the adaptation of this ancient Greek trilogy into Ping opera an especially formidable task.
Another challenge in intercultural adaptation and performance lies in the
reinterpretation, re-articulation, and stage presentation of foreign cultural elements.
This issue, beyond the temporal understanding gap in “Greek theater staged in the
form of Chinese xiqu,”
① Suzuki’s Electra is adapted from Hofmannsthal’s opera of the same name. Hofmannsthal synthesized elements
from the works of the three major ancient Greek tragedians and mythological traditions.
② For instance, in Peter Hall’s 1981 theatrical production, the entire cast performed
wearing masks and donning attire inspired by ancient Greek styles.
represents the difficulty in cultural communication between Eastern and Western theater traditions. When dealing with content from diverse cultural backgrounds, intercultural xiqu must adopt a particular method of fusion: either complete localization to achieve a seamless cultural transition, or a hybrid approach where Eastern and Western cultural elements are simultaneously presented—though this method is notably more challenging.[8] The Ping opera Chengbang enchou (Legend of Two Cities), like other intercultural xiqu productions under the direction of Luo Jinlin, follows the latter approach of transplantation and adaptation. The most ambitious aspect of this intercultural strategy is the coexistence of ancient Greek costumes and Ping opera vocal styles on stage: actors wear Greek attire while performing in the Ping opera tradition, a combination that poses an unprecedented challenge to the conventional frameworks of xiqu and to the actors’ movements and gestures, though this had a relatively minor effect on Guo Qihong’s script adaptation. ① With rich experiences in the adaptation and transplantation of intercultural xiqu, Luo and Guo successfully navigate the transition between antiquity and modernity, as well as between cultures in Chengbang enchou despite the difficulties of temporal interpretation and cultural crossover.
In the framework of modern adaptation theory, “the adaptive process is a total of the encounters among institutional cultures, signifying systems, and personal motivations.” [9] (P106) Adaptation is not a mere reproduction but rather a process of reinterpretation and creative reimagining. Chengbang enchou exemplifies this principle, as it adopts a completely different aesthetic from the original. While honoring the original work and preserving the grandeur and gravitas of classical tragedy, it incorporates the distinctive artistic elements of Chinese xiqu. The original bloodiness and coarseness have been replaced by meticulously reconstructed characters and emotional depth and subtlety.
In 2014, playwright Guo Qihong and Director Luo Jinlin adapted The Oresteia into the Ping opera Chengbang enchou, a sophisticated and well-crafted adaptation of the ancient Greek tragedy that achieved considerable success both in China and abroad. Structurally, the adapted version simplifies the intricate plot of the Greek trilogy into a singular narrative thread, condensed into five thematic sections: “Fire,” “Blood,” “Libation,” “Poison,” and “Trial,” resulting in intensified conflicts through streamlining. In terms of playwriting, the adaptation introduces nuanced and layered moments of “peripeteia” (reversal) and “anagnorisis” (recognition), skillfully incorporating the core elements of Greek dramatic action. Through Guo’s respect for the original text and his strategic use of adaptation techniques, the dramatic and action-oriented qualities of the adaptation have been significantly enhanced compared to the original. The lyrics and dialogues of the Ping opera give the work a renewed vitality. While the ancient Greek religious and mythological backdrop remains present, it no longer dictates the plot. The five thematic sections offer a streamlined yet cohesive storyline that is both simple and complete. Chengbang enchou also reinterprets many of the original characters, particularly the king, queen, and prince of the royal family, leading to a new thematic focus on the resolution of familial enmity and the establishment of national peace and stability.
The following analysis focuses on one exceptional female character Kelüdai
(柯绿黛, Clytemnestra in the Greek original) from the Ping opera Chengbang enchou, exploring the intercultural adaptation of The Oresteia. The texts examined include Luo Niansheng’s Chinese translation of The Oresteia, Guo Qihong’s adaptation Chengbang enchou, and the performance script edited by Luo Jinlin.②
① Owing to space constraints, this paper does not delve into an analysis of the stage
performance practices.
② There exist five Chinese translations of Aeschylus’ Oresteia trilogy, completed respectively by Luo Niansheng (father of Luo Jinlin), Wang Huansheng,
Chen Zhongmei, Zhang Zhiheng, and Miao Lingzhu. The Ping opera adaptation, Chengbang enchou, was initially developed by Guo Qihong in a literary form and subsequently underwent
revisions under the direction of Luo Jinlin for stage performance. Guo’s adaptation
primarily draws on Luo Niansheng’s translation: Agamemnon is available in Luo Niansheng quanji [‘The Complete Works of Luo Niansheng’]: Three Tragedies of Aeschylus and Four Tragedies of Sophocles, Volume II (Shanghai: Shanghai People’s Publishing House, 2004), while The Libation Bearers and The Eumenides are included in the Supplementary Volume of Luo Niansheng Quanji: Three Tragedies of Aeschylus, One Tragedy of Sophocles, and Selected Greek Epigrams (Shanghai: Shanghai People’s Publishing House, 2007). The adaptation mentioned in
the analysis below all refers to Guo’s modified version as published in Xin Juben, Issue 4, 2014.
This study aims to analyze the transformations in the representation of female characters in the play, particularly concerning the themes of revenge and maternal bonds, in the context of adapting classic Greek drama into Ping opera. Furthermore, it seeks to assess the implications of these changes for both the original text and Chinese theatrical traditions.
II. The Reconstruction of Queen Kelüdai in Ping Opera: The Complex Interplay of Political Identity and Familial Emotions
Aristotle views “action” as the essence of tragedy, suggesting that actions are both shaped by personalities and fates and serve to shape personalities and reveal fates.[2] (P36) Guo Qihong, the playwright of Chengbang enchou, expresses that “The ultimate goal of drama is the construction of characters!” [10] Drama, he argues, should be “the drama of human beings,” with character portrayal at the core of its artistic expression. Then, how does the adaptation “create the highly diversified and complicated characters artistically (Ibid.)?”
In Chengbang enchou, the character roster differs from that of The Oresteia, with the role of the priest removed and the new character “the old geezer” added. For characters shared by the original and the adaptation, dimensions of human complexity, emotional depth, ethical motivations, and religious context are carefully amplified or moderated within the Ping opera adaptation. Such modifications demonstrate the playwright and director’s ingenious approach to reconstructing the characters for the opera.
Kelüdai is the core of Chengbang enchou. As a queen, she embodies a strong political identity, seizing power with a brutal act of regicide-mariticide. As a mother, however, she displays profound familial emotions, vowing revenge for her eldest daughter and showing deep affection toward her son. Playwright Guo Qihong and Director Luo Jinlin retain elements of Kelüdai’s character while introducing notable innovations: Kelüdai’s assertive political ambition and masculine demeanor in the public realm are preserved, but the Ping opera version intensifies her maternal love for her son, particularly highlighting this motherly aspect when it conflicts with her political aims. This marks a substantial transformation from the original. The reimagining of the female character unfolds across two dimensions: first, Kelüdai’s motives behind her act of regicide-mariticide; and second, her reactions to the information about her son's (pretended) death and, ultimately, her confrontation with his matricide.
In Aeschylus’ play, Clytemnestra is the sole character present throughout all three plays of the trilogy—Agamemnon, Choephori, and The Eumenides—while other characters appear at most in two plays. With her husband Agamemnon absent for ten years due to war, Clytemnestra serves as the regent queen of Argos. The trilogy presents her as a formidable political woman, merciless and resolute. Her actions of relentless destruction “achieves an individuality rare in Aeschylean tragedy.” [6] (P56) Her nature defies traditional gender and social roles, exemplifying a distinctly masculine spirit. Before she first appears on stage, the watchman describes her as “manly,” a description that can be referenced in the original Greek, the Chinese translation, and two English translations.
Greek: ὧδε γὰρ κρατεῖ γυναικὸς ἀνδρόβουλον ἐλπίζον κέαρ.[4](P6)
Chinese: 因为一个有男人气魄，盼望胜利的女人是这样命令我的。[11](P209)
English 1: For in such a manner rules a woman’s heart of manly counsel, being full of expectation. (Trans. by Fraenkel) [12](P91)
English 2: For thus rules my Queen, woman in sanguine heart and man in strength of purpose. (Trans. by Smyth) [4](P7)
In the Greek text, Clytemnestra is described as wielding “a woman’s heart” (κρατεῖ γυναικὸς) “of manly counsel” (ἀνδρόβουλον… κέαρ). This assessment by the watchman is particularly insightful: the queen’s nature is distinctly masculine in her political shrewdness and drive for power, which form her most salient character traits (notable in the English translations where “woman” contrasts with “man” or “manly”). This is not merely the watchman’s personal bias; later, the chorus leader echoes this impression, stating she is “like a wise and prudent man.” [11] (P216) The description “like a man” not only conveys her commanding personality but also alludes to the complex interrelation of gender and power, hinting at an inversion of gendered authority. As a masculinized political figure, Clytemnestra’s character is defined not simply through description but through her vengeful action: she killed Agamemnon.
2.1 Motives for Regicide-Mariticide: From One to Three
In The Oresteia, the rationale behind Clytemnestra’s act of vengeance is meticulously laid out. Agamemnon, in pursuit of a smooth expedition to Troy, sacrifices their daughter Iphigenia in Aulis. Upon his victorious return to Argos, the queen skillfully wields her cunning: on one front, she uses flattering words to lull Agamemnon into a false sense of security and sympathy; on another, during the “carpet scene,” she masterfully employs rhetoric, coaxing Agamemnon into walking on the luxurious tapestries, thereby inviting divine envy and crafting the perfect justification for her killing.① After dispatching Agamemnon, she immediately discards her facade and addresses the chorus in a speech:
Much have I said before to suit the moment: in saying the contrary now I shall feel no shame. For how else could one who has in hand acts of enmity against enemies who pass as friends fence the nets of harm to a height past overleaping? For me this contest has come as one that I have long had in mind, as one that brings to the issue a longstanding feud, but come it has at last. [12](P197)
The original play clearly portrays Clytemnestra as the mastermind and the executor in the murder of Agamemnon. The motive behind her actions is attributed to “the past fight,” specifically Agamemnon’s sacrifice of their daughter.
Clytemnestra repeatedly justifies her regicidal-mariticidal act, always anchoring her rationale in the dark core of her motives—namely, the grief stemming from the sacrificial death of her daughter. One of the most striking and poignant instances is when the elders of Argos inquire about the burial of Agamemnon, to which she resolutely responds:
"It is not for thee to concern thyself with this duty: by my hand he fell, by my hand he died, and my hand shall bury him—not with wailing of the household, but Iphigeneia his daughter, as is fitting, shall with loving welcome meet her father at the swift-flowing passage of the stream of woe, and fling her arms round him and kiss him."[12](P189)
Again and again, Aeschylus underscores Clytemnestra’s motivation, vividly rendering her absolute conviction in the justice of her revenge.
Agamemnon’s act of sacrificing his daughter was unjust, thus giving Clytemnestra some degree of justification for killing her husband. Agamemnon bringing his lover Cassandra back home catalyzed Clytemnestra’s decision to murder him, though it was not the primary determinant. However, Clytemnestra’s actions are not entirely righteous and innocent; the darker side of her actions is revealed through her adulterous affair with Agamemnon’s cousin, Aegisthus.
① Goldhill's analysis of the carpet scene and Clytemnestra’s linguistic power is particularly insightful. See Simon Goldhill, The Oresteia, p. 65 and onward.
The Ping opera Chengbang enchou made a significant adaptation by expanding Kelüdai's motives for killing her husband-king from one to three. It shifted her motivation from avenging her daughter to a broader goal, i.e. for the greater good of the entire city-state. In the scene titled “Blood,” after slaying King Agamemnon, Kelüdai confesses:
(In a commanding voice) Who am I? A queen? (Shakes her head) No, I am a princess of Sparta! S-P-A-R-T-A! I am the sister of Helen! The twin sister of Helen, for whom the Greeks waged a ten-year war! That tyrant treated the princess of Sparta as a mere servant. We shared the title of husband and wife but never the bond of love. Not for a single day did I love him! For the sake of my eldest daughter, for myself, and for the city-state, I killed him! Now, I shall lead the city-state to prosperity and a new way of life!
(By the translator)
The motivation for the killing has increased from one to three: “For the sake of my eldest daughter, for myself, and for the city-state.” The first reason, “for my eldest daughter,” follows the original Greek play. The second one, “for myself,” is an addition by the playwright Guo Qihong, introducing the aspects of sisterly affection and family honor into Kelüdai’s revenge motive. The third, “for the city-state,” is also newly added. In the original play, Clytemnestra is portrayed as failing in her governance of the city-state, resulting in “the misfortune of this house, not now, as of old, excellently husbanded.” [12] (P91) In contrast, Kelüdai aims “to lead the city-state to prosperity and a new way of life,” a political ambition that imbues her revenge with an additional element of justice.
In addition to the above explicit reasons, there may be a hidden motive for Kelüdai’s revenge: her personal desire for power. In The Oresteia, Clytemnestra is subordinate to Aegisthus: she executes his plans, while he holds the actual power and is the mastermind. In contrast, the situation is reversed in Chengbang enchou: Kelüdai is the regent queen, holding full authority, strong, proud, and driven by a desire for power. Her act of killing her husband is also regicide, suggesting that her craving for power plays a central role in her actions.①
Since Kelüdai’s killing of her husband is the central plot of the entire play, it is worth delving deeper into the effects and significance of how her motives for killing her husband have been adapted.
is swiftly undermined by her personal demand for vengeance, as her ghost declares she will forgive none after her death.)
Nevertheless, the reimagining of characters in Chengbang enchou must inevitably contend with the moral imperfections and ethical shortcomings of Kelüdai.
Given Kelüdai’s prior adultery with Aegisthus, her compromised moral integrity renders her quest for justifiable revenge and her self-defense for committing regicide internally inconsistent within the play, thereby generating contradictions in the construction of her character. The expansion of her motives from a singular focus in the original text to three distinct justifications—grief over the loss of her daughter, a loveless marriage, and the future of the city-state (the latter inseparable from her pursuit of power)—broadens the core conflict. This narrative adjustment not only heightens the ferocity of her vengeance but also complicates the internal coherence of her rationale, thereby introducing paradoxes in her pursuit of retribution.
Firstly, the grief over the loss of her daughter, which was originally her primary motivation for revenge, is not emphasized in Chengbang enchou. This motive is only referenced through a brief line where Kelüdai recounts Agamemnon’s sacrificial killing of their daughter. Therefore the emotional force of her grief as a driving force for revenge lacks dramatic impact within the play. Her subsequent harshness and cruelty towards her second daughter, Electra, also raises questions as to why her attitude differs so markedly between the two daughters.
Secondly, while Kelüdai asserts that her marriage was merely nominal and that Agamemnon treated her poorly, Chengbang enchou presents a rather favorable portrayal of Agamemnon. From his initial entrance, he consistently exhibits a respectful attitude toward the queen, expressing a willingness to peacefully share his later years with her. Although he returns with a lover, within the socio-cultural context of that time, this does not preclude a harmonious life with the queen. The queen’s brief and unsubstantiated accusations not only fail to lend moral justification to her motivations but instead reinforce Agamemnon’s image as an innocent victim.
Thirdly, Kelüdai assumes that, by co-ruling Argos alongside Aegisthus, she can bring a new era for the city-state. Yet, in practice, her reign proves deeply unpopular, a reflection of her indecisiveness coupled with her ruthless nature. In the fourth section of Chengbang enchou titled “Poison,” the comedic banter reveals the public’s disdain, with the character Old Geezer calling Kelüdai a “shrew” and the nurse referring to her as a “nag”—voices that represent the discontent from the grassroots level. The inclusion of this scene suggests the playwright’s deliberate attempt to present this complex character from various perspectives: while Kelüdai is driven by political ambitions and personal aspirations, her moral character and governance skills fall short of her objectives. This discrepancy is laid bare in Aegisthus’ final words as he condemns her as a “female tyrant” and confesses to never having genuine affection for her. [15] The label of “tyrant” carries a serious accusation. Kelüdai may denounce Agamemnon as a tyrant, yet she herself fails to garner the support of the populace or maintain solidarity among her allies. Ultimately, as one of the few political women depicted in Ping operas, she is unable to solidify her rule over the city-state.
The dynamic between Agamemnon and Kelüdai reveals a complex set of contradictions. Agamemnon, as portrayed in Chengbang enchou, is neither an unjust tyrant nor a cruel, unfeeling husband or father. On the contrary, his actions and demeanor align more closely with the archetype of a wise and virtuous king, a (positive) portrayal may have been intentionally crafted to highlight the unjust nature of Kelüdai and Aegisthus’ regicidal plot. In contrast to the original character of Clytemnestra, Queen Kelüdai’s traits are notably more intricate, both in the realms of public duty and private life. Her motivations for revenge are multiplied: she not only aspires to effect change within the city-state through a political coup but also seeks to avenge her daughter’s death by killing her husband. While Kelüdai is bold and decisive, she is also easily swayed by emotions. Her character, in this sense, evokes echoes of Lady Macbeth.
2.2 Stirring Emotions: Abating the Mother-Son Conflict
Following the murder of her husband, Clytemnestra is destined to face the tragic cycle of familial bloodshed, with her son returning to exact revenge.
How does she respond to the (false) news of her son’s death? And how does she confront her son when he returns to avenge his father?
In Choephori, Clytemnestra enters after Orestes has already reunited with his sister Electra and, along with Pylades, infiltrated the palace disguised as travelers. Upon hearing the fabricated news of her son’s death from the travelers, she feigns grief, exclaiming, “Ah me! Thy tales pells our utter undoing.” [4](P227) Meanwhile, Clytemnestra instructs her servants to “[c]onduct him to the chambers where the men are hospitably lodged,” [4](P229) a directive that “overtly offers generous treatment to the guests, but covertly hinting at confining them under guard.” [15](P79) According to the Nurse, the mistress “pretended sorrow in front of the servants, masking the smile that betrayed her delight at this news, which served her own interests.” [15] (PP64-65) Upon Orestes’ killing of Aegisthus, Clytemnestra's immediate response is to cry, “Someone give me a battle-axe, and quick!” [4] (P245) Confronted with her son’s intent to commit matricide, even at the brink of death, she resorts to a calculated mix of threats and persuasion.
In Eumenides, Clytemnestra’s spectral form emerges to taunt and sneer at the Furies, urging them to chase Orestes and Electra in vengeance for her death. Throughout the original trilogy, Clytemnestra’s behavior exemplifies a character of cunning hypocrisy, ruthless ambition, keen intellect, and unrelenting defiance. As Luo Niansheng aptly observed, “Clytemnestra is the most vividly rendered character crafted by Aeschylus.” [16] (P17) Indeed, she stands as one of the most remarkable female figures in the history of world literature.
Chengbang enchou makes significant changes to the mother-son interactions of the queen, transforming the adaptation into a truly interpretative and creative act. [9] (P76) In the Greek original, Choephori, Clytemnestra feigns grief upon hearing of her son’s death. In contrast, Kelüdai in the scene “Poison” reveals genuine maternal emotions, portraying the uncontrollable, heartfelt sorrow of an ordinary mother. In the Ping opera, the queen transcends her political role and becomes a more emotionally nuanced figure who balances statecraft with familial love, exemplifying a new archetype in traditional Chinese opera. When Kelüdai hears the (false) news of her son’s death, she repeatedly cries, “I no longer have a son!” Her grief over her son's death is deeply moving, creating an emotional high point in the Ping opera. Compared to the scheming queen in the original, the adaptation softens the mother-son conflict, refining the queen into a female character imbued with vivid emotional depth. This reflects the Chinese operatic concept of “emotion ontology” as the foundation for creative expression. [17] (P22)
The Ping opera adaptation clearly emphasizes the maternal dimension of Kelüdai’s character. Expanding this to her overall portrayal, Chengbang enchou retains the core attributes of the queen’s original image while enriching her emotional connections to her son, sister, and the city-state. This nuanced adaptation enables audiences to view her actions, both as a killer and a victim, with greater empathy and understanding. The resulting operatic figure emerges as more multifaceted, dynamic, and complex than her counterpart in the Greek original. Clytemnestra embodies the ruthlessness and decisiveness of a queen with a masculine edge in the public-political sphere, while tempered by genuine, unguarded maternal affection within the familial realm.
Kelüdai reveals different facets of her character in various scenes of the adaptation. When facing Ouruisi (i.e. Orestes), who is about to avenge his father by killing his mother, Kelüdai delivers a single line that profoundly impacts her son’s already faltering resolve.
Kelüdai: My own son wants to kill his mother! Oh, heavens! Eumenides, relentless gods of retribution! Do you see this?
[Ouruisi lowers his head in sorrow.] [14]
(By the translator)
However, when Ouruisi ultimately commands the poisoned wine to be presented, and Kelüdai recognizes that the end is unavoidable, her regal pride—characteristic of her masculine determination—reasserts itself. She drinks from the chalice intended for men, filled with poison, rather than the anesthetic potion in the women’s cup originally prepared for her.
Kelüdai (gazes skyward and lets out a long sigh): Agamemnon, have you won? No! I will forever be the proud princess of Sparta!
(sings)
The heavens may avenge grudges and debts,
But how often do mortals live a century yet?
To act boldly once can quell deep regret,
Preserve fierce pride, for it is self-respect!
(raises the chalice of submission)
The chalice for women? No! I refuse to die like a timid hare!
(switches to the chalice for men and drinks deeply)
[Ouruisi tries to stop her but is too late.] [14]
(By the translator)
When intense conflict becomes unavoidable, Chengbang enchou achieves its most distinctly localized and universally resonant adaptation by emphasizing the emotional bond between mother and son. This emphasis finds its clearest expression in Kelüdai. Serving as the pivotal link in a web of familial grievances, Kelüdai embodies multiple roles: wife, mother, and the so-called “adulteress.” A flattened portrayal of her character would greatly diminish both the narrative’s appeal and its internal logic. The “Poison” scene vividly portrays Kelüdai’s intricate inner world. Upon hearing the (false) news of Ouruisi’ death, her simultaneous grief and joy create a multi-faceted figure, with an unyielding ambition for power and undiminished maternal instincts, powerfully conveying the thematic focus on emotion. Her choice to drink poison and face death highlights her tragic determination, rivaling that of any man. She is proud and resolute. Yet, her pain over losing her son is achingly real. As a mother, Kelüdai’s bond with her son significantly mitigates the antagonism between them. Ouruisi’s hesitation parallels Kelüdai’s inner conflict, illustrating the inescapable constraints and helplessness of individuals ensnared by tragic destiny. Even Medea hesitated to kill her children, a Kelüdai utterly indifferent to her son’s fate would not only be illogical but also alienate audiences.
Overall, in Chengbang enchou, Kelüdai, who avenges her daughter by killing her husband and is ultimately slain by her son in an act of filial vengeance, embodies a greater depth of emotional complexity than the sinister and ruthless Clytemnestra in the original play. She is a mother whose maternal instincts remain intact, always concerned about her son, even though her maternal love is logically inconsistent with her cold treatment of her second daughter, Electra. At the same time, she is also the proud Spartan princess and queen of Argos, never having left the center of power. When faced with death, she remains composed, even exuding an air of heroism.
III. A Cross-Cultural Synthesis of Chinese and Greek Drama: Strategies for Character Reimagining and the Significance of Kelüdai
In traditional xiqu, character portrayal and development are not the ultimate objectives, but rather “a narrow goal,” as argued by A Jia and Fu Jin.[18] However, in intercultural xiqu, characters often undergo thorough reinvention, necessitating a compelling reconstruction to ensure the success of the cross-cultural theatrical work as a whole.
Guo was acutely aware of the inherent challenges and potential tensions in adapting The Oresteia into the framework of Chinese xiqu.
As he noted, “Reinterpreting a classic Greek tragedy through the lens of xiqu will inevitably highlight the divergences and conflicts between Eastern and Western cultural paradigms. I foresaw moments of conflict and contradiction but also recognized the potential for interaction and complementarity, and I eagerly anticipated the birth of a new art.” [10] Guo’s adaptation strategy consciously sought to minimize “conflict and contradiction,” opting instead to innovate the dramatic texture of the play by emphasizing the “interaction and complementarity” between disparate cultural and temporal traditions. This reflects his attempt to treat the classics with reverence while aspiring toward creative transcendence.
While Chengbang enchou narrates the tale of an ancient Greek city-state, its Ping opera production follows a deliberate principle of blending “the dramatic conflicts of ancient Greek tragedy, the stylistic essence of Chinese Ping opera, and modern aesthetics.” [19] This principle manifests through strategies of the Sino-Greek Fusion and a modern adaptation, particularly evident in the reimagined plot structure and character reshaping.
The Sino-Greek fusion is evident in the plot, as Chengbang enchou integrates the Greek tragic conventions of “peripeteia” and “anagnorisis,” while simultaneously emphasizing the linear narrative style characteristic of Chinese single operas. In terms of character development, Kelüdai embodies both the “masculine resolve” of the Greek queen and the emotionally rich, lyrical qualities typical of Chinese opera, exemplifying a synthesis of Eastern and Western theatrical traditions. This approach not only showcases the strengths of both cultures in intercultural theatrical adaptations but also underscores the universal human experiences that transcend individual civilizations.
The modern adaptation refers to Chengbang enchou’s reduction of the religious context and the role of gods, shifting focus onto human agency, particularly the emotional and ethical dimensions of the characters. In terms of ethics, Chengbang enchou accentuates details that align with traditional Chinese moral values, diminishes the conflict between mother and son, and reconstructs round characters that adhere to the nature of Chinese xiqu. Queen Kelüdai’s regicide-mariticide challenges the patriarchal order, fulfilling her desire for power. However, even at the height of her political authority, her maternal instincts still surface, before she is ultimately punished by the patriarchal order. Following King Agamemnon’s death, Prince Ouruisi’ character is marked by indecisiveness in his quest for vengeance, evoking shades of Hamlet. These nuanced characterizations, which diverge from the Greek original, represent a significant innovation in the adaptation, as modern audiences are drawn to characters with complex emotional depth and authenticity. If intercultural theater should express universal human nature when bridging different cultures, then the approach of exploring the emotional and ethical complexities of the characters fits the premise of cross-cultural theater. Furthermore, if modern cross-cultural theater needs to cater to contemporary audiences’ emotional expectations, then reducing the emphasis on ancient religious and divine influences while foregrounding the subtleties (and even weaknesses) of human nature within ethical dilemmas makes the play more relatable to both Chinese and international audiences.
Some critics believe that Guo and Luo’s adaptation uses Eastern thinking and Chinese moral concepts to transform the Greek drama, resulting in a binary opposition between good and evil characters. “King Agamemnon becomes the embodiment of justice, occupying the moral high ground, while the queen becomes a slave to desire, the representative of evil, aligning with the traditional moral concept of ‘the beauty is the source of disaster.’” [20] While indeed incorporates many elements of xiqu conventions, the characters of Queen Kelüdai and King Agamemnon do not become stereotyped figures of loyalty versus treachery. King Agamemnon retains aspects of a character obsessed with power and driven by a desire for vengeance, while Kelüdai is portrayed with a complexity that includes her maternal warmth, her regal pride, and her tragic, but noble actions. These qualities make her character more multidimensional and emotionally resonant than the flat portrayal of King Agamemnon. Kelüdai’s twin sister, Helen, is often seen as a femme fatale in both the Greek and Chinese contexts, but Chengbang enchou does not deliberately use traditional Chinese moral concepts to cast Kelüdai as a similarly stigmatized woman, nor does it intentionally create a binary opposition for the sake of the opera’s “localization.”
In terms of the reshaping of royal characters, the image of Queen Kelüdai stands out as the most successful, marking a breakthrough in the portrayal of female characters in xiqu. In traditional xiqu such as Zhao pan’er, Ci mulan, Nü zhuangyuan, Du shiniang, and Tianxian pei, traditional women often need to break free from the confines of guige (a lady’s chamber), which is why brave women are often portrayed as prostitutes.
Sometimes women even disguise themselves as men to obtain power. In the fantasies of male playwrights, these women are portrayed as intelligent, rational, and invincible. But in the end, they must return to the most traditional and submissive female role as society requires. The topics on women in traditional Chinese opera typically revolve around marriage contracts, elopements, jealous wives, and prostitutes. Female playwrights of the Ming and Qing dynasties, who were mostly “ladies in their chambers,” were often limited by their personal experiences, and rarely wrote about women in governance or societal reform. In contrast, in Chengbang enchou, Kelüdai subverts the conventional, passive image of women in Chinese opera. Not only does she govern, but in her pursuit of power, she boldly murders her husband. In this respect, she shares certain similarities with historical figures in Chinese history, such as Empress Wu Zetian, who also defied gender roles to wield political power.
Overall, the character of Kelüdai in Chengbang enchou enriches the portrayal of a strong, powerful, yet still maternal upper-class female character in Chinese opera. She not only controls the politics of the city-state and enters the heart of political power but also embodies a complex image of a queen who blends strength and weakness, good and evil, in a way that feels genuine and relatable through her unresolved maternal instincts and various flaws. Although Kelüdai’s motive for killing her husband is justifiable in her mind, her prior affair with Aegisthus diminishes the righteousness of her act. The relatively positive depiction of Agamemnon in this adaptation also indicates that the playwrights and directors did not intend for the audience to fully approve of Kelüdai's mariticide, distinguishing it from productions like the Hebei Bangzi version of Medea, where the director sympathizes with Medea’s killing of her children and condemns Jason.
Kelüdai’s standout quality in the Ping opera version emerges when she shows no ulterior motives for power but instead reveals her innate maternal nature. While she is seen by her subjects as a domineering queen, used as a female usurper by the vengeful Aegisthus, and considered a bad mother by her second daughter, Electra, she remains in the eyes of Orestes the loving mother who once nurtured and cared for him. Chengbang enchou gives this queen-mother a nuanced emotional depth and complex motivations, making her a brilliant and multifaceted character on stage. Additionally, the actress Li Chunmei, who played Kelüdai, adds richness to the character by utilizing a variety of vocal styles typical of Ping opera. For instance, she uses a bright and commanding tone to express the queen’s sharp decisiveness, while her voice becomes rich and deep when she learns of Orestes’ death, conveying the sorrow of losing her son.
Conclusions
The Ping opera Chengbang enchou was successfully performed both domestically and internationally in 2014 and 2015. In 2015, after watching the performance, Kostas Georgousopoulos, the renowned Greek theater critic, published a full-page article in the Greek daily newspaper Ta Nea, praising this play:
“These Ping opera performers must have undergone rigorous professional training from a young age to deliver such flawless performances on stage. Their physical expressiveness is remarkably refined, with every movement, gesture, facial expression, and even the positioning of their fingers imbued with profound meaning. This artistry effectively conveys the inner thoughts and emotions of their characters, offering the audience a truly exquisite visual and auditory experience.”[22]
Despite its relatively limited number of performances, Chengbang enchou has already demonstrated that Ping opera possesses the artistic capacity to effectively navigate the intricate narratives and multifaceted characters of Western dramatic traditions through its stagings both in China and overseas.
The reimagining of characters in Chengbang enchou highlights the reciprocal significance of intercultural theater for Western dramatic classics and Chinese opera alike. Western drama draws on the aesthetic vitality of a distinctively Eastern theatrical tradition,
achieving a fresh interpretive dimension that grants its classic characters the “afterlife” envisioned by Walter Benjamin. Concurrently, Chinese opera benefits from the enrichment of its thematic and character repertoire through the processes of adaptation, reinterpretation, and performance, particularly for younger forms like Ping opera. This endeavor may also serve as a pivotal moment in the modernization of traditional Chinese opera, offering an expanded internal framework and paving the way for its broader development.
The story of the Orestes family has been retold and reinterpreted across centuries and cultures, from The Oresteia to Hamlet, Mourning Becomes Electra, The Flies, and House of Names, spanning media such as opera, film, novels, and now Ping opera. As a derivative of the Orestes myth, [23] (P235) Hamlet shares numerous elements—intentionally or unintentionally employed—in Chengbang enchou. The Hamlet-like characterization of Orestes, the pivotal act of stabbing an uncle with a sword, the poisoning of his mother, and the reflective line “[a]ll the world's a stage” all resonate with audiences familiar with Shakespeare. This ongoing dialogue with classic dramatic themes reflects a timeless continuity. Through these adaptations, civilizations across different times and places have engaged in mutual reflection and interpretation, generating a profound resonance. This dynamic interplay exemplifies the very essence of intercultural theater.
Figure 1: A theatrical still from the Ping opera Chengbang enchou. From left to right there are Aegisthus, Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. (c) LUO, Jinlin
Figure 2: A theatrical still from the Ping opera Chengbang enchou. Orestes is trying to kill his mother, Clytemnestra. (c) LUO, Jinlin
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This article was published in Chinese in 2021.
Chen, Rongnyu. "Reimagining The Female Of The Oresteia For The Chinese Operatic Stage". Drama, no. 5, vol. 199, 2021, pp. 55-68.
**This paper presents a partial research outcome of a project supported by National Social Science Fund of China, “A Study on the Literary Formation of Aliens in the Exchange of Ancient Eurasian Civilizations (Grant No.: 24VRC049). Additionally, it is supported by the Discipline Team Support Program at Beijing Language and Culture University (Grant No.: 2023YGF02).
The English translation was published in the second volume of TheaComm: an E-Journal of Theater Arts Communication in October, 2025. DOI.org (Crossref), http://doi.org/10.22191/theacomm/volume2/article6.
Translator: Yanhui Jiang
Proofreader: Chenqing Song, Xi Wang