film about a troupe of disabled performers delivers a message of empowerment

[Guest guest]

A new film about a troupe of disabled performers delivers a message

of empowerment.

By M. Glionna, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment

Dressed in black, two dozen Chinese dancers glide across the

practice floor, performing a native Malaysian dance about young love

and flirtation.

Liu Xiao Cheng is not happy. The gray-haired manager watches

intently, grimacing. Finally, he cannot help himself.

" You need more practice with your eyes, " he shouts. " This is a dance

about flirtation. They must flutter! "

But the dancers cannot hear his voice. Each one is deaf. They have

been paced by the rhythmic hand movements of two sign language

assistants, whom they now look to for a translation of their

leader's words. Everyone nods. Eyes flutter.

For two decades, the rail-thin Liu has nurtured a unique cast of

more than 100 performers that has inspired audiences to view the

disabled in an entirely new artistic light.

The China Disabled People's Performing Art Troupe features dancers

who cannot hear, others who cannot see. There are blind singers and

musicians as well as performers with physical deformities: a

vocalist with spina bifida. A dancer without arms.

The group has performed worldwide, including in New York and Los

Angeles, often to standing ovations. Clips of their work have

circulated over the Internet.

Now Liu has taken his act one step further -- to the big screen.

This year, the Beijing Film Academy made a documentary titled " My

Dream. " Using lavish sets, the film intersperses performances with

poignant behind-the-scenes footage. Though the movie has yet to be

released in China, the cast is already aiming for an international

audience.

Last month, members attended the American Film Market convention in

Santa seeking worldwide distributors. The buzz is that " My

Dream " has the right stuff to earn an Academy Award.

" This film deserves to be seen. It's beautiful, " said de

Bokay, director of the Miami International Film Festival. " Its

message is that you are limited, but you are a human being. And you

are an artist. "

Liu is impatient. He wants to break international boundaries now.

" We do 150 performances a year, but we only have so much time, " he

said. " There are 6.5 billion people in the world, and we want them

all to see us. A movie is the only way. "

In one set, ballet dancer-choreographer Tai Lihua leads 20 hearing-

impaired dancers in ornate golden costumes in a routine known as

1,000 hands, in tribute to an eastern Bodhisattva. Seen head-on, the

arms of the in-line performers move in elegant, breathtaking

synchronicity. The act has been posted on YouTube.

In other segments, 16 blind dancers connected by ropes celebrate

spring. Ballet performers who have never heard music move to the

vibrations of the beat resonating beneath their feet. A Peking Opera

act shows deaf dancers performing as blind singers mouth the words

to the story.

At each performance, a hearing-impaired host uses sign language to

express the troupe's theme -- that it does not take sight or hearing

or full physical faculties to produce gorgeous art.

" Even a decaying tree provides shade. And a wilting flower sends

forth fragrance, " she says. " We are trying to hear sounds and

rhythms in silence. To see light in darkness. To pursue perfection

with disabilities. "

Much of the energy behind the troupe comes from Liu, a 63-year-old

former Communist party minister who quit his government post to

advocate for the disabled in a country where the physically impaired

are often harshly ostracized.

He is passionate about his troupe's mission. Cigarette in hand, he

watches each practice with the eye of a critic. Pacing, posing, even

crouching on a chair, he is everywhere at once, expecting

perfection, pointing out impossible-to-see flaws.

Though rarely smiling, he nonetheless believes in these young

performers he has recruited from across China. He's part post-Mao-

era leader, part fussy coach, part father figure.

Liu is weary of seeing disabled performers patronized as " special

ambassadors " -- a diminished status he thinks belies their talents.

He believes his troupe bests even China's top-rung performers. And

in 2000, he took a huge gamble to prove it.

He rejected traditional government funding in a move that not only

gave him more creative freedom but also allowed him to charge for

performances. He banked on the fact that the public would pay to see

his troupe -- not as a mere curiosity but for the art they created.

His risk paid off. The group has visited more than 50 countries,

netting $7 million after operating expenses over the last five years

to become China's most profitable performing troupe.

Twenty years ago, Liu Xiao Cheng was vice secretary of China's

fledging Disabled Persons Federation -- a bureaucrat working to

improve the lives of the nation's 83 million disabled citizens.

A former prisoner during the Cultural Revolution, he spent years

orchestrating a patient political comeback. But he gave it all up

one night after watching a small group of disabled performers.

" I saw hope and the value of life in their dances, " he

recalled. " Seeing them, I finally found my calling. "

He formed his own troupe and began traveling the nation to recruit

performers -- from the far-flung Xinjian region to out-of-the-way

places even most Chinese rarely visit. Some were disabled at birth,

others had suffered heartbreaking accidents.

There was the blind bamboo flutist whose eyes were poked by a stick.

The dancer who lost both arms in an electrical accident. And the

youngsters who lost their hearing from tainted medicine given to

them as infants.

The stories of discrimination still anger him. One deaf dancer fell

in love, but her boyfriend's parents at first rejected her: They

didn't want their only son to marry someone so flawed. Another said

her mother was so depressed over having a deaf daughter she nearly

committed murder-suicide by jumping off a cliff with her baby.

A dancer named Huang Yangguang told of losing both arms to an

electric shock at age 5. He learned to write with his feet so he

could keep up at school. Students mocked him.

There was the blind flute player who no music academy would recruit

because of his lack of eyesight. Or the deaf sign language

interpreter who competed in China's Miss Universe competition.

The judges rejected her, Liu said, because they wanted a normal

person to represent China. " Why? " he asks, growing angry as he

talks. He rises from a table and paces. " Maybe someone from another

planet would see a person with one arm as the most beautiful. Where

does our world come up with its idea of beauty? "

Liu gave them all refuge. His Beijing headquarters features practice

facilities, dorms and classrooms where the young artists continue

their studies as they work out with the troupe.

Slowly, he began shaping their raw talents. Performers learned dance

interpretation. They pressed their heads against drums to sense the

vibrations. Many were feeling music for the first time.

Art was more than just technique, Liu stressed. It was about spirit

and emotion. And these senses they all possessed in spades.

For these societal castoffs, the troupe was a revelation. " How lucky

I could be deaf and come here! " said 9-year-old Wang Yimei, who has

been deaf since age 4.

Her mother, a troupe volunteer, put her daughter's enthusiasm in

perspective. " There are thousands of misfortunes being deaf, " Li Su

Qin said. " This is one lucky thing. "

The troupe cultivates not only the performers' talents but also

their sense of self. A reporter once asked one blind troupe musician

if he wanted the ability to see.

" I prefer not, " he responded. " I'm used to my own world. My piano

brings me light. "

For Liu's troupe, 2000 was a pivotal year. That's when he decided to

reject government subsidies that often allow officials to dictate

subject matter.

" People thought I was crazy for saying no to the government, " Liu

says. " But officials knew I was ideological. So they just said, 'Let

him go.' " Liu used his relationship with the party as an umbrella

of protection for his performers. " It wasn't enough for this troupe

to arouse people's mercies, " he said. " We wanted their respect. "

Their first performances were sellouts, and they never looked back.

Liu proved that he was not just an artistic mentor but also a shrewd

businessman.

And a strict taskmaster. At a recent practice, he chastised a flute

player. " No, you already played that. Play something else! "

He cooed encouragement for one dance set, then turned to several

sound technicians standing by. " We need new music for this piece, "

he snapped. " What we have is all wrong. "

Recognition was not coming fast enough. So in 2000, Liu decided have

a film made of his troupe. Several well-known Chinese directors --

including Zhang Yimo -- expressed interest. But Liu didn't want a

feature film with actors playing his performers. He wanted them to

play themselves.

So he worked with the Beijing Film Academy, one of China's top film

schools, and director Wang Honghai to produce a documentary. The

project took 1 1/2 years.

The opening sequence includes lead troupe and dancer Tai Lihua in

the studio, struggling to express herself in words.

" To all of us, some things are given, some things are withheld over

which sometimes we have no choice, " she says in Mandarin, her voice

hoarse and trembling. " But one can always choose one's outlook on

life, and look more on the positive side, and face life's

disappointments with a cheerful and grateful heart. "

With a copy of their new documentary, the troupe also produced

several color catalogs of the movie's production and cast

biographies. They sold DVDs on tour.

Then, this fall, came their biggest performance yet -- the American

Film Market. And Liu left nothing to chance. The troupe bought four-

page advertising spreads in industry magazines such as Variety and

the Hollywood Reporter. Advertising placards for the film adorned

shuttle buses at the meeting. Trailers played in the lobby and on

elevator screens.

" We had no superstar. If we had Gere, we would not have had

to have been so aggressive, " Liu said. " We were featuring a second-

class people most everyone believes cannot make art. "

The campaign worked. Liu's marketers were flooded with offers from

distributors from several countries. As Matt Kennedy, marketing

director for Liberation Entertainment, put it: " The movie just blew

me away. It's the type of product I want to be associated with. It

makes people feel good. "

At the convention, one producer told 14-year-old deaf dancer Cheng

Cheng that in her native costume she was the most beautiful girl in

the world. " I felt so happy, " she said. " I'm just a poor girl from

China. And this troupe has changed my life. "

Liu isn't content with mere ego strokes. He wants to see real change

in the lives of China's disabled, especially artists.

Now the dancer whose future in-laws once rejected her is famous in

China, and perhaps they are now not good enough for her, Liu says.

The mother who almost killed her hearing-impaired daughter wrote the

troupe a letter saying how proud she was of her child. And Huang

might not have arms, but he has made enough money to buy a new home

in his rural village.

Performers receive a portion of the troupe's profits. Liu has also

created a fund to assist other disabled youth in China. " This troupe

is a flower, " he said. " And I want it to bloom all over the world. "

Fresh from his film's successful reception in Hollywood, Liu is

asked if he now has a hot property on his hands. He pauses.

Then he winks.