"Why, in Chinese theater, are women always played by men? Because only men know how women should act." As Song Liling (Dani Gurfinkel '13) tells us, gender roles are not always clearly defined. M. Butterfly is a show fraught with confusion and deception that culminates in the question of what it means to be in love. Beautifully portrayed by the Brandeis Players, directed by Aaron Arbiter '10 and produced by Asya Bashina '12, it tells the tragic story of Rene Gallimard and Song Liling. The story of M. Butterfly is likely familiar to most audience members since it is an adaptation of the Italian opera Madame Butterfly, in itself a spinoff of the musical Miss Saigon. The play, written by David Henry Hwang in 1988, was inspired by the true story of Mr. Bouriscot and Mr. Shi, two men who were put in jail for treason against the Chinese government in 1986. Although the two men were together for 20 years, Mr. Bouriscot claimed he had not known that Mr. Shi was a man, due to his disguise as a Peking opera singer, provoking great disbelief throughout the world. M. Butterfly takes these two men's relationship even further, exploring the boundaries of love and explaining the ambiguities of their romance.

Before the play even begins, Rene Gallimard, played by Daniel Liebman '12, draws the audience's attention by sitting downstage, staring off to the side as if in deep thought. Gallimard then proceeds to address the audience, explaining sardonically that he is being held in a French prison. He then takes the audience through his memories, tracing the path he took to get to the jail. We follow him to the first time he met Song Liling, the man whom he came to call Butterfly. Gallimard, a French civil servant, is a guest at an ambassador's party when he encounters Song, who is performing as the title character in the opera Madame Butterfly. Mistaking Song for a woman because of his costume, Gallimard proceeds to flirt with Song, soon becoming enamored of him. Gallimard, a man who never found love in his Western life and is trapped in a loveless marriage, is intrigued by Song's Chinese ways and lives out his fantasy of having a submissive Chinese mistress over whom he has complete power. The dynamic relationship between Gallimard and Song (Liebman and Gurfinkel) is a pleasure to watch, and the two convey a feeling of passionate, controlling and yet tender love quite convincingly.

Gallimard becomes more and more preoccupied with testing the limits of his control over his seemingly subservient mistress, while unbeknownst to him and to the audience as well, Song exerts control over him as well. In an interruption from Gallimard's retrospective narrative, Song reveals that he is acting as a spy for the Communist Chinese government, seducing Gallimard in order to uncover classified information. However, Gallimard does not become aware of this betrayal until 20 years have passed and their relationship has progressed to the point that Song presents him with a son whom he claims to have borne.

In the end, the Chinese government punishes Song for disloyalty to the country when they discover he has been engaging in homosexual acts with Gallimard, and for enjoying the luxuries of being an actor while his peers labor all day in the fields with little to show for it. He is sent to a re-education camp and then told to return to Gallimard in order to get more information from him. Gallimard is put on trial for treason against the French government and Song testifies against him in court. He states that Gallimard passed on information about the French government to him although he cannot answer when he is asked whether Gallimard knew at any time what he was doing, or whether he was aware of Song's gender. In the final scene, after Song strips naked for Gallimard, admitting what Gallimard has suspected all along, that Song is a man, Gallimard rejects Song, claiming he doesn't love him but loves Butterfly, his ideal woman, who exists only his mind now, and stabs himself, choosing fantasy over reality.

The stage, with a minimal set of Chinese screens along the background and sides, and a few pieces of furniture, increases the tension we feel at seeing Gallimard alone onstage, speaking directly to us. The hugeness of the space was apparent, as well as the clash between old-world Asian culture and new-world imperialist European culture, brought to life by the juxtaposition of furniture and the set. The costumes added to the realism of the show as well, giving it a very authentic feel and staying with the theme of the clash of cultures.

The moving story is told mostly from the point of view of the jailed Gallimard with interjections from Song and his colleague, Comrade Chin (Cathy Messier '12). The entire cast does a great job of establishing characters and conveying the theme of the feuding old and new world cultures, with a great distinction between Gallimard's European friends and colleagues (Bryan Belok '12, Leila Stricker '13 and Adam Patterson '11) and the Asian characters (Messier, Rishika Assomull '13 and Jessi Fixsen '12). Gurfinkel presents an intriguing, disturbing view of Song, the calculating, deceptive man who remains aloof throughout.

Praise must also be given to Fixsen's portrayal of Helga, Gallimard's wife, who embodies the well-to-do politician's wife and puts up with Gallimard despite the horrible, neglectful way he treats her. Another actor who brings great life to his character is Patterson, who plays M. Toulon, Gallimard's laughably pompous and insensitive boss, among other roles. Liebman shines as Gallimard, carrying the show through his portrayal of Gallimard's multiple facets; he is at all times the awkward, insecure little boy of his childhood, the suave womanizer, the cruel sadist and the unwitting fool. Liebman does a terrific job throughout, and so the ending, when he takes his own life and transforms himself into the Butterfly, putting on Song's wig and traditional Chinese performance makeup, is entirely moving and true to character.

Editor's note: Rishika Assomull is an illustrator for the Justice.