(458) Show Must Go On

By Andrei Lankov

Old Korea did not know theater. There were itinerant entertainers who performed at markets, or at houses of the rich, but they were largely musicians, singers or acrobats.

The closest approximation to theater was a mask show, but these shows were quite different from theater in the Western (or Chinese) sense. Prior to 1900, in Korea there was no theater with repertoires, permanent buildings, or stage sets.

Educated Koreans learned about the Western institution of theater around 1890, from accounts of Koreans who traveled overseas. Most of those travelers did not fail to notice the theater, which appeared to them a peculiar but important institution of what they saw as a paragon of enlightenment and progress.

Soon, the Korean reformers who wanted to emulate the West in all things decided that their country should have a theater as well. In this regard, the progressives could always rely on his majesty’s support, since King Gojong was a known admirer of all novelties.

Thus, it was decided to build a royal theater that would be used for the celebrations of the approaching 40th anniversary of Gojong’s rule. It was also to be a place for state events, and the gatherings of officials _ a sort of convention center.

The proposal was approved, and soon the royal edict established a new institution which came to be known as Hyopryulsa. The majority of its would-be actors were selected from Gisaeng or ``dancing girls,’’ high-profile courtesans who were the only group of women used to performing in public.

The theater was housed in a brick building of a rather peculiar design. Contemporaries believed that it was meant to remind patrons of the Coliseum in Rome.

Indeed, it had an unusual round shape, but to me that building, as depicted in the few surviving pictures, looks more like a shed or some industrial facility. The Hyopryulsa building did not survive, but it was located in the downtown area, near Gwanghwamun.

Technically, the Hyopryulsa was not a private venture, but a royal or state-run theater, and so its employees were on the government payroll. They were supposed to stage performances for the king, pretty much like court dancers and singers had done for centuries.

However, it was also assumed that some of the performances would be opened to a paying public, as was case in the West, something that the founders of the Hyopryulsa wanted to emulate. The first such performance took place in December 1902.

As it turned out, the king could not attend the shows very often, and planned celebrations had to be scaled down. Ancient traditions demanded that monarch should refrain from amusement if things were seriously dire in his realm, and things were not so good indeed in 1902-1904.

First, there were problems with the young crown prince who was seriously ill (he recovered). Then, a bad harvest also made attending performances inappropriate. Finally, a war between Russia and Japan, waged on Korean soil, also encouraged austerity. Hence, the fee-paying public came to dominate the theater.

The Hyopryulsa had about 500 seats, divided into three color-coded classes. The most expensive were the ``yellow’’ seats, priced at 1 won (in those days that was the equivalent or something like two average daily salaries of a minor official). The ``red’’ seats were sold for 0.7 won each, and the cheapest ``green’’ (or ``blue’’ _ the same character) seats went for merely 0.5 won.

In its early years, the Hyopryulsa was a theater without plays. These days its early performances would be best described to our readers as music shows or concerts. The singers of traditional pansori ballads appeared on its stage, and in most cases the gisaeng demonstrated their skills in traditional dance

The Hyopryulsa was also a place where movies were, for the first time, screened to a large Korean audience. Such movie shows were first arranged in the summer of 1903 by the Hanseong (the then official name of Seoul) Electric Company, a joint Korean-American venture that also ran streetcars in Seoul. One such performance ended with a fire, and for a while the Hyopryulsa was closed down.

The Hyopryulsa did not last for long, since its existence offended Confucian sensibilities, and finally the righteous got their way. In early 1906 Yi Pil-hwa, an official and educator, memorialized against Hyopryulsa.

Yi started with a quote from Confucius: ``Let the music be the shao with its dance pantomimes. Banish the songs of chang. The songs of chang are licentious.’’ He proceeded to show that the Hyopryulsa’s activities were not proper, but rather close to the licentious ``songs of Chang’’ which once provoked the wrath of the sage.

He mentioned that women and men sat together at performances, that some guests were drunk and sometimes started brawls, and that frivolous topics damage the righteous morale posture of youth.

His moralistic advice was adhered to, and in April 1906 the Hyopryulsa was closed down for good. Its building remained royal property and was for a while used as an officials’ club, a place for events and gatherings of a more proper nature.

However, it did not last for long. In 1907 the building became a theater once again, and this time the theater staged ``real’’ plays.

Prof. Andrei Lankov was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, and now teaches at Kookmin University in Seoul.