Chen Shizheng

Seated behind a table during rehearsals in rural Massachusetts for "The Peony Pavilion," Chen Shizheng looks less like an opera director than a military commander. Facing his Chinese forces with complete attention, he wields control on many fronts, not just the usual view through the proscenium but also the sides of the stage, which are fully exposed to audience view.

When Chen Shi-Zheng was a 4-year-old in China during the Cultural Revolution, he saw his mother shot to death on the street. "This was my first memory," he says. "Since then, beauty and cruelty have lived together, and I've always found duality compelling."` Life's double edges continued to fascinate Chen when he became a prominent performer of Chinese opera and then after he immigrated to the U.S. in 1987, when he switched to directing for the stage.

When Chen Shi-Zheng was a 4-year-old in China during the Cultural Revolution, he saw his mother shot to death on the street. "This was my first memory," he says. "Since then, beauty and cruelty have lived together, and I've always found duality compelling."` Life's double edges continued to fascinate Chen when he became a prominent performer of Chinese opera and then after he immigrated to the U.S. in 1987, when he switched to directing for the stage.

Seated behind a table during rehearsals in rural Massachusetts for "The Peony Pavilion," Chen Shizheng looks less like an opera director than a military commander. Facing his Chinese forces with complete attention, he wields control on many fronts, not just the usual view through the proscenium but also the sides of the stage, which are fully exposed to audience view.

Chinese officials on Wednesday blocked a Shanghai opera troupe from traveling to the U.S. to perform a 22-hour Chinese opera billed as the centerpiece of this year's Lincoln Center summer festival. Lincoln Center officials had hoped the Chinese would relent and allow the "The Peony Pavilion" to come here in time to be performed as scheduled at Lincoln Center Festival 98.

Stephin Merritt "Showtunes" (Nonesuch) * * * 1/2 TO summarize: Hans Christian Andersen was a 13th century Chinese emperor who was resurrected in a Ming Dynasty opera 400 years later. No, wait. That's not it. But it's easy to lose track on this album of songs from three stage productions all jumbled together. And why not?

At Shanghai's new opera house, where the acoustics are as crystalline as the vaulting glass walls, the symbolism of the Grand Theater's opening also rings loud and clear. The $150-million glass culture palace designed by French architect Jean-Marie Charpentier to host international performers such as tenor Jose Carreras and operas such as "Aida" and "Faust," is meant to be a declaration about the state of the arts in Shanghai.

Back in 1952, Frank Loesser's score for the Hollywood musical "Hans Christian Andersen" captivated listeners with such songs as "Wonderful Copenhagen" and "Thumbelina." Before long, two new stage musicals based on the life of the Danish fairy-tale writer could spawn a new batch of hits. Both are keyed to a bicentenary bash of global proportions that Denmark is throwing next year to honor its native son on his 200th birthday.

When will we be able to look at "exotic" performance and see intellectual content, rather than merely admiring the outer form? When will we understand that artists from "other" cultures are capable of creating meaningful as well as beautiful works? Until we do so, we infantilize Asian, African and other "non-Western" arts, denying them their rightful position in the adult world.

Four hundred years ago, the poet Tang Xianzu wrote the Chinese version of "Romeo and Juliet" -- except that for his Juliet, the power of love manages to overcome social censure, as well as death itself. Tang's epic opera, "The Peony Pavilion," is one of the most celebrated in Chinese drama, and the 19-hour, 55-scene work has been a lifelong fascination of Kenneth Pai, a noted Chinese American writer, retired University of California professor and, now, theater impresario.

Marcel Marceau has a troupe that performs wordless plays he calls mimodramas. After she retired in the '40s, soprano Miliza Korjus threatened to make a comeback in an opera about Nefertiti in which the cast would do nothing but hum. So there's nothing truly unique about the absence of text in "ATLAS," avant-garde composer Meredith Monk's new, 3 1/4-hour opera in which the only words are a few lines of spoken dialogue.

SAN FRANCISCO - A production here of John Adams' "Nixon in China" begins with a goose-bump gorgeous projection on a scrim in front of the stage of Air Force One gracefully gliding into Beijing through slate gray clouds on a winter's day. Lawrence Renes, a Dutch conductor in his early 40s making his San Francisco Opera debut, creates a viscerally silky sound from Adams' brilliantly atmospheric orchestral prologue. The rest of Michael Cavanagh's production, a product of Vancouver Opera, may not entirely live up to this beginning, but the specialness of the moment is significant.