To be a Chinese acrobat, you need steely muscles, a buoyant carriage, a neck of iron and the poise and confidence to take everything in stride. Add to that the infinite capacity for taking pains - one very good definition of perfection.
The troupe hit the Symphony Hall stage last night like an irresistible wave and never stopped ebbing and flowing through one graceful, strong act after another. (However, it's doubtful that they could do everything they would have liked considering the hall's limited overhead facilities.)Each time they come, the acrobats seem to showcase themselves in a more Western-oriented way. The accompanying music, the Chinese equivalent of circus music or background pops, was not the most stimulating, and sometimes the acts went a mite too long. And there were occasional evidences of fatigue and a few more missed connections than I remember from past Peking outings in Utah. But little matter, when they pick up and correct all loose ends with such unflappable poise.
First came a lively festival drill with tumbling, ribbons and hoops; then men climbing ropes and twirling and sometimes twirling girls by ropes around those exceedingly strong necks.
Most of the acrobats were equal and able to do all things. But if required to select a favorite, mine would be the beautiful female contortionist, whose body flowed like a long-stemmed flower swaying lightly in the breeze from one amazing pose to the next - one of the finest such acts I have ever seen.
Then there were the three young men who tossed Chinese jars and caught them on their necks and heads. Not plastic imitations, mind you, but those heavy pottery things, round and slippery. Not to worry, for once they lightly landed they stayed put as if glued. When you had seen all the tricks with the smallish jars, out came big ones that looked liked they'd hold about a peck of produce. They took a good swing, and they were airborn. But they landed just as lightly and balanced just as carelessly on sides or rims like the smaller jars.
Or how about the whip trickster, a young woman who looked like she came from the far reaches of Mongolia, where she'd practiced flicking flies off the wall for years? Could you stand the suspense of holding pieces of cloth taut while she sliced them in two? Her magic whip tip could open an umbrella, snuff out candles, set a bottle to pouring wine or ignite fireworks.
There were also the balancing acts - on towers of chairs, on ropes, and even on a little platform that rolled on a cylinder. These acrobats give an object lesson in preparing to succeed, for no balancial feat is approached quickly or carelessly. You see the sure initial deliberation as they establish themselves in utmost security, forming human pagodas and other shapes, balancing on each other's shoulders, standing on heads or arching their bodies upward on their hands.
Perhaps the most impressive feat was the first half finale, when eight young women utilized little understood principles of balance to build a leaning tower of bodies on eight chairs, then up-ended themselves on their hands and returned to standing position. Only in China - it would never work for Americans!
Lithe young masculine bodies slithered like flying fish through hoops piled four high in a tumbling exhibition par excellence. Then there was the young lady, who with toes only, juggled a framed picture, opened an umbrella and kept it twirling, then with an assistant, twirled cloths like umbrellas on feet, hands and head.
The evening ended with the promised 15 acrobats forming a pagoda on a bicycle; a slendid sight to behold, and probably the strongest bike in all China.