M. Butterfly
I just finished reading one of the most deranged plays I've ever read. I don't even know where to start. It's a play about a man who is in prison for being a spy for China during the Vietnam war. His favorite opera is Madame Butterfly and he falls for a woman who played the heroine's part, Song. Song is really a man trying to get information out of Gallimard about what the Americans were planning to do to Vietnam. The opera Madame Butterfly is about a man who is in the Navy, Pinkerton who buys a wife Cio-Cio-San but then leaves her and gets an American wife. In the end he sends a fellow country man to tell Cio-Cio-San that they're over and she presents a baby. Well Pinkerton, being the couragous bastard he is sends his American wife to take the baby and bring it back to their home in America. Cio-Cio-San, who is more often than not called Butterfly kills herself with a knife. Now just this part of the play about the opera makes me sick. What a stupid woman and what an asshole of a man! Gallimard loves this opera and wants his own beautiful exotic chinawoman. He's a stupid asshole, himself. Song tricks Gallimard into believing that he is a woman and they have sex but somehow Gallimard never finds out that Song is a man, never. He only questions Song once about why she keeps her clothes on during sex. Gallimard comes to believe that the only woman he loves in heart is Song. Song plays it very well but in the end when they are both found out, Song shows Gallimard his true self, his penis, which I'm sure must have been small. Gallimard doesn't want to accept it while Song is undressing in front of him, but when he sees Song's penis he starts laughing. The whole idea of Gallimard's Butterfly is dissolved and he falls out of love so quick. Song is surprised that Gallimard has fallen out of love, and is probably hurt to realize that it wasn't himself that Gallimard loved but the part he played. Song is probably also hurt because he was probably enjoying being thought of as wonderful and beautiful. Well, in the end Gallimard dresses up as Butterfly from Madame Butterfly and kills himself. Song, dressed as a man, is watching, smoking his cigarette. It's all fucked up. I'm serious, it's fucked up. Not just the love part of it, but the humanity of it. You see it as something humans are but when you look at it so bluntly written you can't help but be disgusted. I feel so unsettled. It's almost like being dissillusioned. The play is written so bluntly, so shamelessly, arrogantly, and it is a wonderful piece of work, one that I can't help but be disgusted with but one that I can't help but love. If anyone is interested in reading the play, it's called M. Butterfly and is written by David Henry Hwang. I recommend it. You'll be caught from the beginning. Even if you hate gays (which I know everyone reading this doesn't) you can't help but hate Gallimard for not loving Song after he finds out who he truly is. After twenty years of devotion to a plain character. It's so paralell to the opera Madame Butterfly. I'm still reeling from everything I just read.
In the end of the play Gallimard is saying to the audience as putting on the Butterfly costume "I have a vision. Or the Orient. That, deep within its almond eyes, there are still women. Women willing to sacrafice themselves for the love of a man. Even a man whose love is completely without worth." The oriental women are most known for being very obediant to their husbands, being basic slaves and that is one of the reasons why he wanted Song, a Butterfly of his own. He also says, in the play that thought he wants to kick Pinkerton for treating Cio-Cio-San the way he did, he wouldn't hesitate to take his place. Gallimard also says in the end "The devastating knowledge that, underneath it all, the object of her love was nothing more, nothing less than...a man." A wonderful line that says that he loved someone worthless, and became almost like Butterfly, giving his life to Song. I love it. I absolutely adore it. It's an amazing piece of work, one that will keep seeping into me, bringing meaning with it. I can't wait to discuss it in my English class. I'm not much of a play person, but this one is fantastic. What is says about men and politics is so real, so honest and blatant. You cringe inside reading such things about yourself but in a way you're nodding in agreement. It's funny because it's a stab at men and even a stab at women. At men because they want women who will devote themselves to them and only think of making their husbands happy. And then to the women who let their husbands rule them, who let themselves get caught up in that sort of love and then the only way out is to kill yourself. My high school English teacher would love this play. The ending is somewhat sad but it fits, it belongs. Any other ending just wouldn't work. It was well written. I would love to see it performed. It hops back and forth through the present and the past. I love it! If you're looking for something to chew on (intellectually) read this play.
In the end of the play Gallimard is saying to the audience as putting on the Butterfly costume "I have a vision. Or the Orient. That, deep within its almond eyes, there are still women. Women willing to sacrafice themselves for the love of a man. Even a man whose love is completely without worth." The oriental women are most known for being very obediant to their husbands, being basic slaves and that is one of the reasons why he wanted Song, a Butterfly of his own. He also says, in the play that thought he wants to kick Pinkerton for treating Cio-Cio-San the way he did, he wouldn't hesitate to take his place. Gallimard also says in the end "The devastating knowledge that, underneath it all, the object of her love was nothing more, nothing less than...a man." A wonderful line that says that he loved someone worthless, and became almost like Butterfly, giving his life to Song. I love it. I absolutely adore it. It's an amazing piece of work, one that will keep seeping into me, bringing meaning with it. I can't wait to discuss it in my English class. I'm not much of a play person, but this one is fantastic. What is says about men and politics is so real, so honest and blatant. You cringe inside reading such things about yourself but in a way you're nodding in agreement. It's funny because it's a stab at men and even a stab at women. At men because they want women who will devote themselves to them and only think of making their husbands happy. And then to the women who let their husbands rule them, who let themselves get caught up in that sort of love and then the only way out is to kill yourself. My high school English teacher would love this play. The ending is somewhat sad but it fits, it belongs. Any other ending just wouldn't work. It was well written. I would love to see it performed. It hops back and forth through the present and the past. I love it! If you're looking for something to chew on (intellectually) read this play.