How does one break free from a realistic treatment when staging a historical event such as the one depicted in Nixon in China?
Valentina Carrasco: When dealing with recent history, there is indeed a risk of sticking too closely to the events themselves. In the case of Nixon in China, the famous original, realistic production by Peter Sellars actually encourages one to break free from it. As I am neither Chinese nor American, and as I am taking on a work that has become a classic of the repertoire, it is my responsibility to offer a new interpretation. This is an opera that is performed regularly and, as such, can afford to be approached in a more abstract way than it was at the time of its premiere. The characters I present are historical figures, but treated in a more conceptual manner. This is made possible in particular by the progression of the work, which initially aims for realism and then gradually evolves toward something more surreal.
Here, the concept is that of ping-pong diplomacy, which proves to be an apt metaphor for the subject at hand…
Valentina Carrasco: Yes, I started from the rather intuitive idea of a ping-pong table, which turns out to be a powerful image for symbolizing the political game: two spaces facing each other, with the players batting responsibility back and forth. Ping-pong is also very percussive, much like John Adams’s music. Several pages of the score are highly rhythmic and evoke the back-and-forth of a ball. It is also a visually striking, highly choreographic sport, which is particularly interesting for this work, where choral scenes are numerous.
This initial intuition was reinforced when I discovered an event in the history of the United States and China: ping-pong diplomacy. It refers to the invitation to China, at the initiative of the Chinese team captain, of the U.S. national table tennis team for a tour. The two teams had met at the World Championships in Japan, where Chinese players had been instructed not to interact with the American players. Nevertheless, Americans and Chinese eventually mingled and congratulated one another on their respective play…
It was this sporting visit to China—the first official trip to the country by Americans—that paved the way for Nixon’s visit the following year, subtly prepared by Henry Kissinger, who understood the need for openness and the role it could play in resolving the Vietnam conflict and in asserting influence vis-à-vis the USSR. This sporting tour was therefore decisive. Mao himself reportedly said of the Chinese captain that he could have been a diplomat.
It is interesting to see how much sport can serve as a tool of diplomatic mediation, just as it can be a means of asserting power; one thinks in particular of the Munich Olympic Games, and those in Moscow…
Valentina Carrasco: Absolutely, there are many examples. One interesting case is Romania and the use of its gymnasts, who were treated as ambassadors and subjected to enormous pressure. Sport is a concrete battlefield, particularly in a Cold War context. How do we measure a country’s power when they are not at war? In part, through sports competitions, which always celebrate a winner or a record, thereby reinforcing a country’s dominance internationally. It is a demonstration of power.
Today, with the resurgence of conflicts and political divergences leading to a new polarization of the world, sport once again occupies a central place among tools of influence. We have seen this recently with the FIFA World Cup in Qatar and the calls for boycott. Sport also asserts itself as a means of communication and exchange in situations where nations cannot talk to one another. A sporting or artistic encounter then becomes a form of mediation.
In this regard, there is an event that particularly interested me, brighter and more positive, so to speak, than Nixon’s visit: the invitation by China of the great American violinist Isaac Stern, who was invited to give concerts and masterclasses. It is interesting to see, in the documentary about him, that Stern was received and escorted in much the same way as Nixon had been. Yet he interacts with musicians, including the director of the Shanghai Conservatory—people who speak the same language as him. The rapport is much more evident than between Nixon and the communist leaders, whose exchanges did not really resolve the points of divergence or the questions of Taiwan or Vietnam. Stern’s visit shows people coming together, revealing the unifying power of music. Where politics always remains shadowy, nothing is guaranteed.
