The Beautiful Ones Review (Artalk)

Today, the place where we live is undoubtedly "loss"; but "beauty" is not extinct. The work seems to place the story in the local context, and I will not hesitate to insert the Hong Kong scene into it.

There are always people who risk their lives to write; there are always people who spend their own money to create—seemingly powerless, but one should not be afraid. Those with wealth and power may be living in bliss; do not be discouraged by them—let them be The Beautiful Ones.

The Beautiful Ones narrates an experiment involving mice. The inspiration for the play comes from a group of mice surviving and reproducing in a limited space, reaching a saturation point, after which their behavior exhibits abnormal phenomena; this serves as a metaphor for the pressures and issues faced by modern humans living in confined spaces (see the social science experiment "Mouse Utopia" by behaviorist John B. Calhoun in the 1960s). Of course, there are no mice in the theater; the mice in the story are all humans.

This group of "humans" being experimented on is called "The Beautiful Ones," which is the English translation of the play's title, The Beautiful Ones. While "The Beautiful Ones" literally means "the beautiful group," how does it contrast with the "losers"? The story revolves around pressed spaces and human nature, yet the work injects a lot of "beauty"—various theatrical elements like crisp music, pure white costumes, and the beauty of form are all meticulously arranged. "Beauty" and "loss" are clearly different concepts; does the work deliberately juxtapose them to create an inevitable opposition? What is the purpose of this opposition? Or does the work want to point out their indistinguishable nature? You might also ask, what is the significance of distinguishing between them?

In other words, let’s talk about life. Is our current life "beauty" or "loss"? You wouldn't think that how a person evaluates their own life is a meaningless judgment; nor would you stop your deep thinking with open-ended questions. My answer is that today, the place where we live is undoubtedly "loss"; but "beauty" is not extinct either. The work seems to place the story in the local context, and I will not hesitate to insert the Hong Kong scene into it.

The work adopts two experimental theater forms—first allowing the audience to participate in a sound-guided tour on the streets, then returning to the black box to watch a multimedia physical performance. The director stated that he intentionally told the same story theme in two different ways, allowing the audience to have two entry points to feel and understand the state of human existence. Wandering through the San Po Kong community is, of course, grounded in reality; returning to the theater, the story begins with the origins of humanity. The entire arrangement seems to lack a clear main line connecting the two, yet there are countless images open to interpretation.

The story is set in a monitored space, where the audience becomes both the observers and the observed. The sound-guided tour is accurately set by a mobile app that configures the time for the audience's visit to the community, allowing them to walk while being led by a voice. With designated routes and precise time controls, the audience obediently complies—why is that? It feels like a kind of tacit understanding; knowing they have been arranged to do something, they go along without resistance. Is the careful arrangement of the work a form of authoritarian rule? Is there a distribution of power in the theater? If so, does the creator's power override that of the attendees? I only realized I was being monitored at the end of the performance—I don't know whether this arrangement can be called "clever" or "chilling." Are we Hong Kong people constantly monitored by the authorities? The news says yes, the facts say no, and 689 says otherwise. Is it or isn’t it? I don’t know; not knowing makes one anxious—just like discovering at the end of the performance that there have been people observing you all along, evaluating whether your behavior is problematic.

Is there a problem with behavior? At some point, you may feel you don’t have a problem, but others think you do; or perhaps you really do have a problem but aren't fully aware of what you've done each day—maybe I can interpret The Beautiful Ones this way. This play reinterprets many classic works, presenting numerous bizarre human behaviors. For example, it draws from the story of Echo and Narcissus in Ovid's Metamorphoses—Echo cannot say what she thinks but can only repeat the last few words spoken by others; Narcissus drowns because he falls in love with his reflection in the lake. One particularly captivating segment: Echo tirelessly follows her beloved Narcissus, while Narcissus is fixated on the mirror in his hand, enamored with his own appearance. The mirror is then passed from a figure draped in black (perhaps Prometheus) to different actors, who successively fall into narcissistic behavior, ignoring everything around them. Holding the mirror clearly serves as a metaphor for our daily lives of being "attached to our devices," but the "mirror" carries an additional layer of meaning. Have you ever considered that being "attached to our devices" is related to "narcissism"? When using our phones, we most often communicate with others? Posting on Facebook? Taking selfies? How often do you share a phone with someone? With such a thick layering of details, I can't tell if it's presenting or accusing reality, or why I tend to respond personally to the narrative based on my life experiences. Indeed, the work has power, inviting people into an endless space of contemplation.

When considering important elements in the play, I must mention the music. The most beautiful sound, in my opinion, is the sound of metal pipes touching each other—metal pipes? Yes, all the music in the play is transformed from various pieces of "garbage": long and short metal pipes like wind chimes, pierced metal pipes as flutes, cooking pots and tin cans as drums, and loops of wire for percussion. The music produced by garbage, I dare say, is very beautiful, and it corresponds perfectly with the theme of the play. "Beautiful sounds from garbage" sounds strange, but upon reflection, garbage is not necessarily linked to "ugliness."

From childhood to adulthood, people are often told many normative do's and don’ts, which inevitably creates stereotypes or rigidities. This can easily lead to obsession or even stagnation; the only thing that can change our mindset, as the saying goes, is art. Only when facing art can one not help but think. Therefore, there are always people who risk their lives to write; there are always people who spend their own money to create—seemingly powerless, but one should not be afraid. Those with wealth and power may be living in bliss; do not be discouraged by them—let them be the beautiful ones.

Automatically translated from the original Chinese