The American Century: Literature since 1945 699Public Theatre of New York, under the direction of Joseph Papp (1921–1991). His
early plays met with varying fortunes, but in 1988 Hwang achieved major success
with M. Butterfly. The play was inspired by a 1986 newspaper account of a bizarre
relationship. A French diplomat, on trial for espionage, was revealed to have had a
26 year relationship with someone he believed to be a Chinese woman, whereas in
fact “she” was not only a spy but also a man. From this story, Hwang got his idea for
what he called “a deconstructivist Madame Butterfly” addressing a complex web of
racial and sexual issues. The basic arc of the play, as Hwang has explained it in an
afterword, is simple. “The Frenchman fantasizes that he is Pinkerton and his lover
Butterfly,” Hwang has said. “By the end of the piece, he realizes that it is he who has
been Butterfly, in that the Frenchman has been duped in love; the Chinese spy, who
exploited that love, is therefore the real Pinkerton.” What expands and enriches that
arc, though, is Hwang’s understanding of how issues of race and gender, cultural and
imperial politics intersect here; how the tragic blindness of the Frenchman involves
multiple levels of misrecognition. Hwang has the Chinese lover, Song, allude to
those levels in his courtroom testimony after the two are finally caught. “As soon as
a Western man comes in contact with the East – he’s already confused,” Song points
out. “The West thinks of itself as masculine – big guns, big industry, big money – so
the East is feminine – weak, delicate, poor.” For Hwang, as for Song, the tale of the
French diplomat and his lover is not so extraordinary, given what the author calls
“the degree of misunderstanding between men and women and also between East
and West.” “Her mouth says no but her eyes say yes,” as Song sardonically puts it.
“The West believes the East, deep down, wants to be dominated.”
In M. Butterfly, Hwang offers a powerful metaphor for the way men misperceive
women and the West misperceives the East – themes he was to continue exploring in
his play Yellow Face (2007) and his reworking of a popular musical, Flower Drum
Song (2003). The events of the play coincide with the period of the Vietnam War,
alluded to several times, which gives them a further resonance and contemporary
relevance. The metaphor is powerful because it is dramatic. None of this would have
worked, of course, if Hwang had not fashioned a passionate, compelling action that,
besides being strong on insight, is a sad, strange kind of love story. Rene Gallimard,
the Frenchman blinded to reality by his needs, his consuming desire not to see the
truth, is a character who inspires sympathy as well as stupefaction – and simple
wonder at what sightless fools mortals can be. Song, in turn, besides being given to
what the judge at his trial caustically terms “armchair political theory,” is a man
caught up in his own fantasies about women. The reason that he makes what
Gallimard calls “the Perfect Woman” is precisely that he knows what men intend by
that phrase, what they and he want. “There is a vision of the Orient that I have,”
Gallimard eventually confesses, “Of ... women willing to sacrifice themselves for the
love of a man.” Challenged with veritable fact, Gallimard will not surrender that
vision. “I’ve finally learned to tell fantasy from reality. And, knowing the difference,
I choose fantasy,” he announces. “I’m a man who loved a woman created by a man.
Everything else – simply falls short.” For Gallimard, “death with honor is better than
life.” That, in his case, means killing himself with the declaration, “My name is ReneGGray_c05.indd 699ray_c 05 .indd 699 8 8/1/2011 7:31:40 PM/ 1 / 2011 7 : 31 : 40 PM