CHOREOGRAPHERS CAUTIOUS IN POST-HANDOVER HONG KONG.

HONG KONG--In response to the handover of Hong Kong to China on June 30, 1997, choreographers in the Asian city ambitiously attempted to convey the ensuing confusion and cacophony with works that defied local censorship. They have since continued on a course that has incited both government indifference and resistance, revealing post-handover angst on issues ranging from AIDS and gay rights to democracy versus communism.

Political and social consciousness have come to the fore in what was once a very inhibited and insular artistic environment. Until only a decade ago, Hong Kong had little cultural identity other than what was status quo in China. Art as entertainment for the masses meant that individuality and contemporary expression were discouraged, while criticism of the society and government was ingrained as taboo. Only the classical arts of the West have been acceptable for importation to China. As a result, ballet and symphony orchestras were traditionally received with recognition in Hong Kong, limiting interest and support for local contemporary artists and for contemporary dance in general.

"Civilizations burn out and start all over again," says Helen Lai, a major Hong Kong choreographer, particularly noted for her handover tribute, Revolutionary Pekinese Opera. One of the most effective creative works of the period, the piece expressed the public and political malaise accompanying the event. Like most of her local counterparts, Lai is concerned with the current state of social and political affairs in Hong Kong and the impact of the past on the present. Moving from British colonialism to Chinese rule has caused a reevaluation of Hong Kong's identity and its future.

For Danny Yung, the founder/director of Zuni Icosehedron, whose movement theater has displayed anti-China political sentiments, narrowing the distance between theater and the public realm is crucial. "We have used theater as a public forum," says Yung, "by redefining the boundary of the stage, the relationship between audience and performance."

More and more, local choreographers are making the theater a place for new ideology and dialogue. "[The theater has become] a place to find different approaches in communicating with the audience," says Jacky Yu, founding choreographer of the E-Side Dance Company.

That audiences tend to be students and young white-collar workers, and that they attend in large numbers, is a turnaround from the traditional box-office statistics. Emphasis shifted when the youth majority came of age and asserted their priorities as artists and audiences. The events at Tiananmen Square and the 1997 handover had a lot to do with raising their awareness about politics and making their voices heard. Staging sit-ins and all-night vigil protests has honed them for more interface with the government and media and more confrontational theater.

The question facing Hong Kong artists is just how much the "provisional" Hong Kong government, as it is now called, will tolerate. The government funding body has already distanced itself from controversial work by announcing in theaters that it is "not responsible for the contents" of the performance.

According to the local choreographers, who are for the most part recipients of government funding in the form of approved annual project grants, everything is directly related to Beijing's influence. Barely three weeks after the handover, Beijing unveiled a policy on the importation of foreign cultural items, vowing to "firmly ban decadent ideas and practices from abroad." This has both tarnished Hong Kong's international image and created protective self-censorship locally. "A don't-rock-the-boat attitude is a means of survival," says Andy Wong who, with Allan Lam, is artistic director of DanceArt, which performed its gender-crossed and irreverent depiction of post-1997 Hong Kong in New York recently. "A lot of what we say may be reserved for performances abroad, and toned down in Hong Kong and China," he admits.

This is beginning to look like a necessary trend, with censorship quietly on the increase in China and, subsequently, Hong Kong. The government here has long imposed censorship on nudity and sexual content, and political overtones have been discouraged in the arts in general. However, now an artist must pay for the privilege of having work censored, according to a new ruling in Hong Kong. At a recent forum on censorship, artists complained that they could not afford the expense of "turning their work in" as prerequisite for public performance. Hong Kong government censors were slammed for labeling art that contained nudity as indecent, and for shunning politically controversial work. The high expense of meeting the criteria of classification has resulted in many artists being excluded from showing their work.

Despite the current trend, there are few doomsayers in the dance microcosm of Hong Kong, where pragmatism is viewed as the best solution. So far, the "one country, two system" policy is real enough. Cultural exchange between the systems is practically nil, with few mainland Chinese dancers granted visas to work in Hong Kong and few contemporary dance companies given substantial opportunities to perform in China.

For now, the status quo is maintained, but the balancing act between Hong Kong and China creates tension that keeps local choreographers and Sinophiles on edge. With a new millennium approaching, this extraordinary era in Hong Kong is an opportunity for local artists and their followers to take up the cause of artistic freedom in the next century.