The Egg

Sometimes, a journey is as interesting as the destination, and that's what French architect Paul Andreu has designed for the China National Grand Theatre: An artistic ambience on the way to a show. Walk across the greenery at the west of Tiananmen Square step down 7 meters and enter an 80-m-long underground gallery with a bright glass roof where water ripples overhead. At the end of the gallery is a huge lobby, probably the largest in a theatre anywhere in the world. From the window, you can see the clouds in the sky and the traffic on Chang'an Avenue to the north. It leads to the magnificent Opera House with 2,398 seats. The concert hall which can seat 2,019 is on the east and the theater with a capacity of 1,035 is on the west.

Nicknamed “the egg”, this recent addition to Beijing’s cityscape has not come to fruition without controversy. The location of this avant-garde bubbly structure lays adjacent to the monolithic Stanlist-style Great Hall of the People. Additionally, the surrounding hutongs clash with the egg’s sleek exterior – a perfect juxtaposition demonstrating China’s growing pains as it tries to conserve the old while making way for the new.

Recently I went to China’s newly constructed national theater to see Swan Lake performed by the Swedish Royal Ballet Company. I was heavy-eyed walking in, but due to the sheer excitement of visiting one of Beijing’s most extravagant buildings compounded by the fact that I had never seen an authentic ballet before, I am proud to say that I didn’t even sleep a wink. The experience was unique, the venue was breathtaking, and the ballet was interesting – a cultured young man I am becoming, indeed.

But here comes my two cents…

Firstly, the seats were too small, even smaller than the seats on China Eastern’s planes, the ugly duckling of all Chinese airlines. It’s simply criminal to construct a state-of-the-art national theater but fail to make the seats big enough - another example of how the “big picture” trumps individual satisfaction in this frustrating holistic society. On the bright side, the agony in my knees and angles kept me from getting too comfortable during the slow scenes.

Secondly, the concession counter was a mess. Nothing was refrigerated, there was only one menu and one cash register, and most of the items were unavailable. Perhaps this will all change in time considering that this performance hall is still working out the kinks, but I would hope that they spend a little more money and effort on trying to enhance the services within the facility.

Lastly, I always enjoyed going to the theater, ballet or opera chiefly because it felt like a special occasion, but also because it was an excuse to wear formal attire and mingle with the intelligentsia of society. Go to Carnegie Hall or the Kennedy Center and you will see people in tuxedos and gowns treating the event in an almost ceremonial way. In China, the people in the audience at these performances (although upper class) often wear flip-flops, shorts, and sometimes wife beaters. Naturally, Westerners that attend would be well dressed. This striking difference demonstrates the culture clashes that still exist between China and the West. Not so long ago, Communist leaders held meetings in their underwear while most women had only seen dresses from Eastern European films. The accepted standards and tenets of proper etiquette, contemporary civility, and even chivalry are all concepts that have been discussed and debated in every American college classroom for as long as I know – and how they are perceived in a Chinese context is too complex for today’s post. But, to get to the point, I find the way the Chinese treat the ballet detracts from its overall charm – perhaps, they may be more suited for Lion King on Ice.