The 'spiritual' essence of the artist

I hesitated while thinking about and writing this passage. I was a little worried it might be misinterpreted as... flattery, or lecturing, or something similar. The world of entertainment and performing arts is far more complex than it used to be.

But why would I write an autobiography?

For many reasons, the most important of which is that I want to cherish the past, to preserve some precious memories (for myself, not for future generations). I keep them, transforming them into gentle and respectful words.

Cốt cách nghệ sĩ: Hành trình và những bài học từ nghệ sĩ Năm Sa Đéc - Ảnh 1. — Artist Nam Sa Dec

To express our love and profound gratitude to our predecessors.

To remind myself.

To find ways to improve

job.

I am proud to have shared the stage with them, to have had conversations with them, to have been genuinely scolded and taught by them, to have witnessed the brilliance of their talents, and to have learned from watching them perform and work.

I was fortunate to receive a solid education and graduated with honors in acting. This means I'm quite confident in my ability to embody and handle the challenges of any character. However, I tend to forget dry textbook material and am very sensitive to clear, interesting lessons right in front of me.

I will always remember my grandmother in Sa Dec.

I joined the Diamond Troupe when my grandmother was frail and almost retired from performing. It was a stroke of luck for me when she was invited back as a special guest to celebrate the Durian Leaf reaching 1,000 performances.

I regret that back in the 1980s, I was too young, I understood, but not deeply enough to know how to "preserve precious gems." I should have learned from and loved those people more, before they left this world, where they had lived lives filled with hundreds of different destinies. They had drained the silk from a silkworm's thread; they were too tired and would disappear after beautifying and bringing joy to the world.

Grandma went on stage. I gazed at her intently, a former veteran artist of the Thanh Minh Thanh Nga troupe. I looked at her with both admiration and curiosity. Grandma was a witness to a time of captivating traditional opera and glorious reformed opera.

Cốt cách nghệ sĩ: Hành trình và những bài học từ nghệ sĩ Năm Sa Đéc - Ảnh 2. — Mrs. Nam Sa Dec played the role of the mother-in-law in the play "The Breakup".

My grandmother in Sa Dec was 82 years old that year, thin and frail. She walked weakly, taking small, hesitant steps, sometimes trembling like a leaf about to fall from a branch. She could no longer do her own makeup and needed help. Strangely enough, I was assigned to specifically remind her of the scene. I stood beside her and whispered, "Grandma, when you feel me patting your shoulder, please come out."

Grandma stepped out from behind the curtain, and the stage erupted with excitement. She had transformed completely, becoming utterly charismatic. Her voice was clear and resonant. She appeared as a haughty, cruel, and unique wealthy councilwoman from the countryside. Grandma's performance was as if possessed by a spirit. She radiated a brilliant aura. Her silver hair and strikingly intelligent face captivated even the faint-hearted audience.

Grandma Năm Sa Đéc – the councilwoman, paired with Grandma Bảy Nam – the fourth wife, looked like an unparalleled pair of good and evil in everyday life. One was gentle, excessively submissive, and kind… a classic, while the other was cruelly arrogant and blatant, also a unique and iconic character. I was captivated watching Grandma's performance. Of course, I was also convinced by that majestic image. But what I admired most was Grandma's meticulousness, bordering on perfection, which I witnessed firsthand.

Grandma asked, "Does anyone have any lipstick they can give Grandma a piece of?"

The kids indifferently handed Grandma the lipstick, probably thinking to themselves, "Grandma's old, why would she need to wear lipstick?"

Grandma took the lipstick and smeared it on her palm, creating a red mark. Ah, it turned out Grandma wasn't applying it to her lips; she was using it to create a burn mark for the scene where she accidentally poked her hand into a basin of very hot water that Miss Dieu had brought. A slight burn mark was needed to show that Miss Dieu was careless and had harmed the old woman. If it were a young actress, just physical acting, jumping up and screaming would be enough. The stage was so big, who would pay attention to how the character was burned?

But that wasn't all, Grandma asked further: "Can you guys give me a little bit of that… that lin lin stuff?" - Ah, Vaseline.

Grandma took some Vaseline and applied it over the burn. The red mark glistened under the light: "There, a real burn should look like this. It has to be red and shiny. That way, the audience will feel sorry for it."

But how can the audience see it?

- Oh my God, the audience is very sharp-eyed, of course they'll see it. Whatever we do, no matter how small, we have to be thorough, not careless. If there's a burn, there's bound to be a burn mark. Not everyone will see it, but there will definitely be someone who does.

After applying makeup, she returned to the stage and, ten times in a row, performed the scene, acting out the cruel and vivid scene with remarkable fluidity.

Her performance was so smooth and lively that, whenever she appeared, there were almost always audience members standing in place shouting loudly, or rushing out of their seats and running straight onto the stage… yelling: "How cruel! She's so cruel, who can stand it? Get off the stage immediately…".

Watching the Sa Dec play "The Old Lady of Sa Dec," we can clearly see the difference between the evil of two women: Mrs. Phan Loi (in the play "The Breakup" ) and Mrs. Hoi Dong (in the play "The Durian Leaf" ). These two villainous characters have left a distinct mark for nearly a century.

It wasn't just villainous roles. Grandma brilliantly embodied hundreds of different characters. Even in her portrayals of kind people, her eyes, her lips, even her snow-white hair… made people cry uncontrollably, and she didn't need to cry.

He plays each role perfectly.

That is the quality and character, the insight of the artist.

It permeated me directly, without instruction, without the need for books or notes. ( to be continued )

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/cot-cach-than-nhap-cua-nguoi-nghe-si-185250916195347212.htm