In the production of M Butterfly, there were numerous aspects of the play that caught my attention but two of the biggest ones were the ideas of nudity and setting. Nudity is a concept that’s been seen and taught as being taboo and sensitive, and perhaps which is why it caught my attention. M Butterfly takes what’s meant to be censored and shows it in a very real and normal light. The actors aren’t only brave but comfortable with showing their bodies, and it’s especially important in the context of the play where an authentic story is being told. It gains the audience’s trusts because nothing is hidden. Additionally, it reinforces this idea of irony in expecting the norm. Additionally, since gender was one of the biggest themes in the play, I felt the showcase of the body of very important to the play and I noticed this pattern that very gender-specific nudity was shown. Also, it was interesting to see how the French Diplomat loved the singer when he had clothes on but didn’t when he was naked even though, “the skin is the same.” The setting was also really interesting. They utilized a series of boards that acted as a blockade from the rest of the stage. They brought focus into a certain aspect or part of the scene and this was excellently complimented with the lighting. This was also the first time I saw the setting set right in the moment right in front of me once again keeping nothing hidden from the audience. I found the setting to be very balanced, it did add to the scene and it gave it much context but it wasn’t too distracting from what was going on stage. Additionally, the use of the boards was effectively used in the first and last scenes because it successfully represented confinement, which does feel like walls caving in.

These two shows were a fundamentally new, but amazing experience for me. But that’s not because I haven’t seen any Broadway musicals, plays, or operas before, but rather I have never seen any shows in which I was a learned observer. I have never prior to the show come in with the knowledge of the play’s history and story, nor have I discussed the criticisms or its wonderful moments. While seeing both Madame and M. Butterfly, my viewing experience was fundamentally different, rather than wondering what the next bit of the story was, I was excited to see how the actors would showcase a scene I vividly remembered and talked about. What would their actions be? How would they convey its message? Would I be as engaged as I was while reading? These thoughts definitely kept me on the edge of my seat during the performances. It was also one of the reasons why I felt I actually enjoyed the opera, words which I never really expected to say.

Of the two art forms, however, I definitely enjoyed M. Butterly more. It was engaging, lively, comedic, serious, and interesting, all at the same time. I loved how the actors broke the fourth wall and spoke to the audience, acknowledging that they were telling us a story about what happened. They critiqued themselves, what they did, and their own words. Gallimard himself eventually recognized the hypocrisy in his life and beliefs about Butterfly, although he did refuse to accept it. It was very interesting watching Gallimard react to differences in Chinese opera, which was depicted as anything but submissive and quiet, but rather very active and loud. The split in the screens which created the backdrops for the play was a very clever way of transitioning from one world to the next. They were not intrusive but rather were very instrumental in shifting the audience’s mindset from France to China. All in all, it was a wonderful performance, where I very much enjoyed listening to the critique of the Western depiction of Eastern culture, the complexities of the human mind and gender itself.

I found the use of panels and a moving set in this play absolutely amazing in not only demonstrating turmoil or a particular emotion when paired with music and a particular set of images, but also in helping to emphasize a sense of, to me, motion. This can be seen in almost all the opera scenes and the scenes of the Cultural Revolution, which would simply not be the same if it was simply just a handful of people moving on the stage. The rapidly shifting panels, combined with powerful music, helped give me a sense that a momentous shift was occurring. The use of panels during the Cultural Revolution, which displayed images of Mao Zedong and Chinese communist propaganda in the play is a prime example that really brought me into the “eye of a revolution”. In contrast, the panels also served to provide a practical change in scenery and inspire other feelings which can be seen in the scene in which Gallimard was in jail. The drab, grey panels helped provide a sense of darkness and isolation that went beyond plain incarceration.

Another very interesting aspect of M. Butterfly as an art form was the artful use of perspective to enhance the play, which served both a practical and aesthetic function. The practical function was to help move the story along and present multiple dimensions to the plot, which aided the viewer in their understanding of M. Butterfly. However, the aesthetic role that it played in the play was to help attendees to the play be able to see the perception of their relationship in Gallimard and Song’s heads, and their contrast to reality. In multiple scenes, the eclectic shift from first-person perspectives helped shed light on the rapturous misunderstanding between Gallimard and Song’s understanding of their relationship. I thought this was incredibly fascinating and something I had not seen personally in a play before. These elements of M. Butterfly provided an unforgettable experience, but it not does supersede the stunning performances of the actors who played Song and Gallimard, who manipulate these elements in order to inspire a sentiment of happiness and struggle in the beginning with a sense of deep emotion, pain, and separation in the play’s end.

One of the most intriguing and unique aspects of M. Butterfly by David Henry Hwang is how the actors fully acknowledged that they were indeed acting and that they were just retelling their story. Multiple times throughout the play, Gallimard or Song would argue over whether it was necessary to tell a certain scene to the audience and in one instance Gallimard even decided to stop the play, and the lights went on and the stage crew began bringing the props off the stage. I thought this was extremely unique, as I don’t recall any other play where the actors acknowledged they were acting.  Further, I think this practice also added doses of humor into the play, as the dialogue included stopping the storyline to discuss whether it was necessary to actually tell that scene or not, for example the scene when Song wants to tell about her giving information to the Chinese Communist Party and Gallimard asks if that’s really necessary and Song replies yes, that it is part of her story.

Another intriguing aspect of M. Butterfly was the set design. The set design was loud and proud, the exact opposite of the fragility of the butterfly. Notably the Chinese opera, which include walls of several beautifully designed and also very intimidating characters from the opera. All the colors and sounds were bold and strong, which foreshadows the fact that Song is not the true butterfly of the story, but Gallimard is. The set design also stood strong and intense during the Communist Revolution scenes. The rich red color with the bold black print and the many faces of Mao Zedong represented the power and strength of the revolution, which Song was apart of. The bold set played a major role in the storyline, as it symbolized the strength of Song’s character and the implied weakness of Gallimard’s character. Also, worthy of mentioning was the efficient use of the many walls to create different rooms and atmospheres. Many of the walls were painted on both sides for dual purpose, had free rotation (as many hung from the ceiling), and had different representations when placed at different angles. This concludes that the set design was extremely well thought out, as every side and angle of every wall was put to use.

I found the most intriguing part of the performance to be Song’s character, which wove together traits often categorized as opposites. He achieved a balance between female gentility and masculine dominance in both his appearance and role in his relationship with Gallimard. He was rather broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw, but his voice was sweet and his movements graceful. He spoke calmly even as he dissed Gallimard, the tone was gentle but the words were biting. In their dynamic, he affected a submissive personality, when in reality he had the control. The delicate clothing he wore disguised his more brash personality, which was revealed in all its “male” crudeness at the court hearing towards the end of the play. All of these contradictions were found in one character, and their amalgamation was not sloppy or badly portrayed. Rather, Song’s embodiment of both genders evoked some of the most interesting questions in the play, such as sparking the debate of what Gallimard’s sexuality could have been. It is the interaction between genders that is central to the plot of the play, in that the masculine west has historically treated the female east as a conquest begging for domination. I also found it contradictory when at the end of the play, it is revealed that Song really did fall in love with Gallimard, a man whom he referred to as being an imperialist, the very thing he hated.

An aspect of the play that surprised me the most, other than the sudden nudity, was the sudden communism. It was a loud, colorful spectacle of communist revolutionaries en pointe and the many faces of Mao Zedong staring back at you. Part of me found it funny, in all its extravagant ridiculousness, but I also understood the gravity of this scene. The performances of the Chinese opera were replaced with these new versions of entertainment; in fact the traditional dancing from the beginning of the play was mirrored in the dancing of the Chinese revolutionaries.

Two aspects of M. Butterfly that intrigued me were the screens in set design and the portrayal of Chinese Opera. In the original Madame Butterfly, screens were used to depict Japanese culture and give the set a more realistic feel. The screens would just slide back forth like a regular screen would in real life. However, in M. Butterfly, they took the use of screens to another level. The screens had more degrees of freedom and could turn in various angles. This allows them to combine together to form rooms or hallways. The screens also had wallpaper or art, making the set so much more realistic. I remember when they first showed the Chinese Opera and the screens split in half. The top half fell down to reveal intricate art that resembled the Chinese Opera. I was astonished by this level of complexity since in Madame Butterfly, the screens served no other purpose than just being screens. The extra attention to detail in set design really made the play come to life.

The other aspect of the play that intrigued me was the portrayal of Chinese Opera. Everything about it was pretty accurate, which made me unbelievably happy. The use of Chinese Opera was such a clever way of depicting Chinese culture. In Madame Butterfly, Japanese culture was displayed as beautiful and submissive. The music, the cherry blossoms, the lanterns, everything was there to appeal to the audience’s aesthetics. However, in M. Butterfly, the use of Chinese Opera made Chinese culture seem like anything other than submissive. The music was loud, the art was a deep red, and there were scenes where people did acrobats and fought. Everything about it was the opposite of the quiet and soft Madame Butterfly. The intensity of the Chinese Opera made the depiction of France seem bland in comparison, which I also thought was interesting.

The dialogue in the play was incredibly engaging and so easy to digest, even if the events unfolding weren’t. I love that the play broke the fourth wall and somehow, having Gallimard ask Butterfly not to explain her side of what happened or expose what really was happening behind the scenes wasn’t off-putting at all. Instead, it emphasized his fantasy of Butterfly and his love for the idea of her, as well as . In some ways, it seemed like he reacted more to those moments than when Butterfly actually exposed himself. Even in those moments, Butterfly was tender with Gallimard and it didn’t seem like things ended badly between the two; there was a huge contrast between the way Butterfly talked about how he tricked Gallimard into believing he was a man and the sex between them and the way Butterfly tried to coax Gallimard into telling his audience the full truth.

Another aspect of the play that I loved was how props and background took up very little of the stage space, but also wasn’t something that I found crucial to the performance except for in the traditional scenes. Colors and backgrounds were mostly instrumental when it came to displaying Communism takeover in China or just showing Chinese culture. When it came to showing Gallimard by himself or him working with his superiors or talking to his wife, the colors were drab and the backgrounds were dull compared to the bright hues of yellow and red that came up any time the cultural music made a comeback. Everything about the romance between Gallimard and Butterfly was colorful and Butterfly was always colorful up until the moment the two had to appear in court, and Butterfly was in a black and white suit. When Butterfly tried to assume her original, colorful outfit that he believed would make Gallimard recognize his love for Butterfly, it just no longer had the same effect.

M. Butterfly was one of the most amazing performances I have ever seen. It is full of rich detail and hidden backstories, and it’s setup makes the viewer constantly question their awareness of the situation or understanding of what’s going on. One of the things I constantly found myself questioning was Song’s sexuality. He looked like a boy, and publicly he was supposed to be a boy. However, he told Gallimard that he was a female, and to be honest, I found it hard to believe that he wasn’t a female. His movements were very feminine, and his voice almost seemed to prove that he was a female (it was not deep at all!). During the beginning of the play I was actually wondering if there was a female doing a voice over with Song. There was even a scene where he stood behind a screen, with only his shadow being seen, and he was taking off his robe the way women do, daintily. He always dressed as a woman on stage and performed amazingly, and he had a cheeky, sarcastic attitude towards Gallimard which I often associate with women standing up to men. I did not want to believe that he was a man – I only truly believed him when he fully stripped in front of Gallimard.

Another part of the production I found extremely interesting was the constant connections to the opera Madame Butterfly. At the beginning of the play, Song ridiculed Gallimard for liking Madame Butterfly since it was only beautiful because the Oriental girl died for the white man: A white girl who died for a Chinese man (who obviously didn’t love her) would have just been seen as stupid. What I wasn’t expecting was that flipping this view entirely on it’s head was exactly play was about. Gallimard was constantly chasing after Song, getting inklings here and there that Song wasn’t being truthful to him (about his sexuality, or about his role in the Chinese Revolution), and yet continuing to stay unbelievably faithful to him. Song was the one who knew he was playing Gallimard like a game of chess, strategically getting closer relations with him and even moving to France with him to continue getting information for the Revolution. Song loved Gallimard, but never enough to confess the truth that he could never be with him due to his being a man. The play always interlude specific scenes with music taken from Madame Butterfly, as well as quotes from the play and certain actions as well. Throughout the play, Gallimard always called Song his “butterfly”. However, by the end of the play, the entire audience could only watch in shock as Gallimard wore the white robe of Madame Butterfly and killed himself, with Song regretful as he held Gallimard’s body in his arms.