Program Notes: Tan Dun's Buddha Passion

TAN DUN 
Buddha Passion 
BORN: August 18, 1957, in Simao, Hunan Province, China 
WORK COMPOSED: 2013–2018 
WORLD PREMIERE: May 23, 2018, in Dresden, Germany 

What to Listen For: 

• In the “overtone improvisation” at the beginning of Act I and at the end of Act IV, each singer reshapes their mouth and vocal cavity to bring out different textures of the sung note. 

• An army of percussion instruments, such as large Tibetan double cymbals and rubbed Chinese cymbals in the middle of Act II; and transparent paper cups at the start of Act IV. 

Tan Dun’s Buddha Passion honors two great narrative traditions: Passions of the Christian church and Jataka tales of Buddhism. The earliest known Passion — a simple recitation of Gospel texts — was reported in Jerusalem in the fourth century, and after various developments and innovations, reached its zenith in the St. Matthew Passion of J. S. Bach. Composing that Passion in the late 1720s, Bach’s genius was to employ familiar musical forms and texts to humanize the suffering and crucifixion of Jesus.  

By contrast, the Jataka tradition — counted by some scholars as the oldest example of Buddhist literature — comprises ancient folk tales with a diverse cast of animals, monks, royalty, outcasts and ordinary people. Inevitably, the virtuous heroes of these fables reincarnate as Gautama Buddha. According to Buddhist teaching, the cascading altruism of their good deeds over many lifetimes helps account for the Buddha’s compassion and wisdom. Despite great historical, cultural and geographic distance, both narrative traditions share a mutual moral resonance: selfless sacrifice is not only for a greater good, but also leads to salvation and enlightenment. 

Many of the Jataka tales are depicted in spectacular murals within the Mogao Caves, a crucial source for Buddha Passion’s libretto. Amidst a desert-ringed valley in Dunhuang, Western China, Buddhist monks began hollowing out the caves in the fourth century, carving passages and grottos for meditation. Over successive centuries, the area expanded into a series of shrines and temples, attracting worshippers and trade. Dunhuang became a thriving waypoint on the Silk Road, a trade route that connected China to the West. When the Silk Road fell into disuse in the 16th century, the caves were abandoned. Some were swamped by sand and damaged by floods.  

Many caves survived intact, most remarkably the Library Cave, which had been sealed off in the 11th century to hide paintings, documents and ornate textiles from invaders. Rediscovered in 1900, the Library Cave’s manuscripts and other treasures inspired Tan Dun when he visited over a century later. Moved by the vast number of paintings depicting a panoply of musicians, the composer devoted two years to researching and reimagining the sound of ancient music and musical instruments in Buddha Passion. 

Scored for seven soloists and orchestra in tandem with adult and children’s choruses, Buddha Passion extends Tan Dun’s concept of orchestral theatre. By mingling soloists (including a dancer) and instruments from Western and Eastern traditions, the composer seeks to recast orchestra concerts as a dramatic medium. Orchestral theatre is exploratory and experimental while retaining and building upon the wisdom of tradition. 

Under The Bodhi Tree — the first of six acts in Buddha Passion — begins with muted strings, a soft chant sung by the tenors and basses, and the high keening tones of Tibetan singing bowls. Gentle heartbeat-like timpani and bass drum strokes introduce a young Prince, frolicking with birds and a Boy. The rubbery metal ping of a flexatone marks the falling of one bird to its death. The divine voice of Mantra, sung by women’s voices, tells the Prince to weigh the dead bird and cut a piece of his own flesh to balance the scale. Despite the Boy’s urging to add more, the scale remains unbalanced. Mantra, now sung by the baritone, tells the young Prince, “All lives under the sun — tiny as an ant or giant as a dinosaur — all lives are of equal value.” The Prince accepts this lesson and, supported by stately brass, sings, “When I awake, I will be all anew.” 

Act II: The Deer of Nine Colors finds the beautiful Deer and her sisters “by the mystic lake known by none,” as intoned by the chorus, joined by a shimmering harp and strings. A Drowning Man, sung by the tenor, cries for help, his peril confirmed by a downward zippering rush of notes on the harp. The Deer, sung by the soprano, ignores her imploring sisters who, affirmed by blasting trombones, warn that humans will hunt and skin them “to make their gowns.” Once saved, the Drowning Man promises to keep the deers’ home a secret. 

The Drowning Man returns to the city, where the King — a baritone buttressed by rotund, loping figures in the tuba, bassoon and bass clarinet — offers a bounty for the Deer and her sisters. A fast, glittering passage emphasizes the luxurious prize while the chorus temptingly promises “such huge rewards” and cackles, anticipating the inevitable betrayal. The Drowning Man succumbs, describing the beauty of the Deer and justifying his decision: “I need food. I need money.” Jabbing brass chords signal the hunt, which is brief and successful. The Deer beseeches the Buddha, but the Drowning Man stabs her. Shocked and saddened, the King comforts the Deer, to no avail. Garlanded by chorales in the woodwinds, horns and trumpets, the chorus admonishes, “selfishness and greed must lead to doom … Forsake not your brothers.” 

Act III: Thousand Arms and Thousand Eyes is subtitled “Flying Pipa Dance.” The fantan dancer and her pipa (a teardrop-shaped ancestor of the guitar) command the stage. Accompanied by a fiery harp solo goaded by plucked and smeared notes in the strings, the music becomes an entertainment meant for the Emperor (sung by the baritone) and his three daughters. After the daughters praise each other, a Court Guard rushes in, announcing that a young woman in labor needs a pair of eyes and arms to survive and give birth. A tuba solo marks the unexpected tumult. Miaoshan, sung by the soprano, finally persuades the Emperor to permit her to help. As the eldest and most virtuous daughter, she declares, “Without my eyes, without my arms, I still possess a Buddha’s heart.” The chorus and entire orchestra exalt Miaoshan’s choice with ennobling praise: “Your sacrifice is greater than the deepest sea; your sacrifice is bigger than the highest peak.” 

Rattling woodblock percussion, strings and blaring horns conjure the setting of Act IV: Zen Garden. Chanting and meditating monks listen to their Master on Songshan Mountain, where Zen Buddhism originated. Rising chants and shuddering brass impel the Master, sung by the baritone, to shout, “Stop! You are too loud and noisy!” The garden is momentarily quiet, save for the sound of dripping water created by a strainer dipped into a sloshing basin. The Master answers the monks’ chants and questions (“…silence is louder than any sound”) only to be interrupted by a Woodcutter passing by.  

The monks, sung by unaccompanied tenors and basses, shout in disbelief, “Who are you?” Yet the Master welcomes the Woodcutter’s challenge. They engage in an animated philosophical debate. In a pensive moment, the Woodcutter pauses, clacks his finger bells and begins to ask deeper questions. The chorus of monks respond, “For life is but an illusion, a dream,” and in sympathy with the Woodcutter, ring their finger bells. 

Act V: Heart Sutra takes place under a rare total solar eclipse. A Minstrel Monk, sung by an indigenous vocalist, stumbles upon a shivering, dying woman. He revives her with “the ancient mantra music,” and by sharing his last drop of water. The woman, Nina, also sung by an indigenous vocalist, recounts her travels on the Silk Road and quest to replace her hometown’s silkworms, which died out two years ago. Except for a gentle drone of contrabasses and singing bowls, the orchestra is mostly silent during this desperate duet, until the Minstrel Monk introduces himself as Kongxian from Dunhuang. 

Together, Nina and Kongxian extoll the “beautiful legends, dreams and beliefs” of the murals at Dunhuang. Nina begins to shiver again in Kongxian’s arms. Sleigh bells toll and mournful trombones glide downwards, as if sobbing. The momentary lovers bid each other farewell and the chorus chants a hymn of overcoming suffering. 

A heartbeat rhythm on bass drum and timpani and a yearning melody in the strings and winds usher in Act VI: Nirvana. The Buddha, sung by the baritone, solemnly tells his disciples that he will soon enter Nirvana, the ultimate state of transcendence beyond suffering and desire. Against a backdrop of rippling harp arpeggios, his disciples ask questions and confess their dreams of world achievements. 

The Buddha laughs and exhorts them to “Free your heart and mind.” Scampering flutes and violins adorn a soft horn solo as he proclaims, “In this beautiful world there is one beyond.” Speculating on his divinity, Buddha’s disciples pose one final question: “What are you?” The Buddha replies, “I am awake.” The orchestra and chorus elevate Buddha towards Nirvana with a transcendent, heaven-shaking peroration.  

Christopher DeLaurenti © 2022