The most prevalent affliction in the contemporary theater world is the "disease of short-sighted opportunism." Its root lies not in swift execution but in a浮躁 mentality. The most concealed, and also the most fatal, disease is "blind obedience to authority." Its root lies not in being compliant but in a dependency on power. The most typical "illness of the era" is the "superstition of technology," a condition rooted in mistaking means for ends and prioritizing flashiness over substance. The disease concerning the "creative ecosystem" is the "malady of trend-chasing imitation," where creators are no longer engaged in genuine creation but are instead "riding the wave," prioritizing popularity over authentic self-expression. The greatest danger for any ailment is avoiding treatment and refusing to confront the diagnosis, stubbornly hoping it will resolve itself, thereby allowing a manageable condition to worsen into an intractable one. The theater world has been ailing for a long time, and consequently, the sickness is severe. This is not alarmist rhetoric but a tacitly acknowledged reality within the industry. Superficially, the stage remains vibrant, productions continue to emerge, technological methods advance rapidly, and cross-disciplinary integration has become a fashionable label. However, a closer examination reveals that the theater world is mired in multiple chronic ailments: short-sighted opportunism has become the norm for creation, blind obedience to authority a survival strategy, and trend-chasing imitation combined with technological superstition are seen as industry shortcuts. More alarmingly, these conditions have been normalized by some, turning a "pathological state" into the "normal state," allowing the sickness to fester and worsen.
The recently introduced "Three-Year Action Plan for Drama Revitalization (2026-2028)" by five government ministries serves as a potent prescription directly targeting these chronic illnesses. It is not a superficial倡议 but an institutional design tailored to address the root causes. The plan formulates systematic measures across multiple dimensions, including project approval, funding, evaluation, talent development, and theater company growth. It is not a temporary fix but a comprehensive, systemic treatment aimed at fundamental reform. An illness must be treated, and treatment must address its root.
**The 'Disease of Short-Sighted Opportunism' – Reducing Creation to 'Instant Fast Food'** The root of this, the most common ailment, lies in a浮躁 mentality, not in speed itself. Creators no longer immerse themselves in refining scripts or deeply observing human nature from life. Instead, they pursue a rapid, high-output rhythm. Producing several plays a year, each expected to be novel, often results in repetitive themes, techniques, and emotional resonance. Rushing to meet deadlines, award cycles, or festival dates—with scripts written in three months and rehearsals crammed into one—creates a spectacle on stage that leaves the audience bewildered. This short-sighted approach directly leads to the "hollowness" of creative works. Productions lose their soul, retaining only empty form. Audiences fail to see the characters' destinies unfold or feel the dramatic tension, witnessing instead nothing more than cold "performance displays." More tragically, the浮躁 ethos of "quick results and grand productions" is tacitly endorsed by the industry, while creators who dedicate time to thoughtful work are viewed as "behind the times," pushing theatrical creation further from its artistic初心. The deeper illness is that this "instant fast food" model of creation has become the industry standard—where slowness is penalized and meticulousness is seen as obsolete. The "Plan" addresses this浮躁 nature by shifting evaluation criteria, urging theater companies to prioritize artistic quality and public reception as core assessment standards. It makes clear that theater is not an assembly line, and creation is not about rushing from one engagement to another. Only with a settled mind can a play truly stand.
**The 'Disease of Blind Obedience to Authority' – Reducing Creation to 'Assigned Compositions'** The root of this, the most hidden and deadly disease, lies in dependency—on power, political achievements, and功利—not merely in being听话. In some regions, theatrical creation is distorted into a "vehicle for political achievements," with non-artistic factors excessively interfering in the creative process. Behind funding allocations are rigid demands for a single play to serve multiple functions—"it must do this, and that, and also this." Artistic creation is forced to yield to administrative directives, and scripts become "collages" of various功利 elements. Creators become passive "writers of assigned topics," leading to a plethora of productions on stage that resemble "local propaganda films," where characters are reduced to mouthpieces for policy—the most visible symptom of this disease. More frighteningly, this "blind obedience" is being regarded by some as "political correctness." Those who comply get opportunities; those who迎合 win awards. Creation ceases to be a dialogue between the artist and life, becoming instead a collusion with功利 interests. Over time, creative autonomy is lost, artistic judgment deteriorates, and the condition worsens. The "Plan" explicitly demands the severing of功利 interference and establishes a professional project approval review mechanism, empowering artistic expert committees to把关 the立项 process. The aim is not to eliminate "assigned topics" but to realign them with artistic principles. It signals to administrators that creative autonomy should be returned to the artists. Only when creators truly have the space to "write what they wish and perform what they excel at" can the stage radiate genuine vitality.
**The 'Disease of Technological Superstition' – Reducing Creation to 'Technical Demonstrations'** The root of this illness is the fundamental inversion of mistaking means for ends and equating visual dazzle with depth. If short-sighted opportunism is a "mentality disease" and blind obedience is a "systemic disease," then technological superstition is the most characteristic "disease of the era" in contemporary stage art. In the eyes of some creators, technology has become a panacea—weak text? Fill it with holographic projections; lackluster表演? Rely on数控升降台 to prop it up; disjointed narrative? Distract with dazzling lighting. The致命 aspect of this disease is that it creates the illusion that technology can replace art, and that spectacle can mask emptiness. Consequently,纪实 documentaries replace abstract symbolism on opera stages, spoken drama stages are crammed with song and dance, and dance dramas become "audio-visual epics." The essential languages unique to each art form, refined over centuries, are gradually diluted, dissolved, and forgotten under the relentless bombardment of technology. More absurdly, this "piling on of technology" is often more likely to win awards and be recognized as "innovative," prompting more creators to follow suit, trapping them in a vicious cycle where "whoever is flashiest is right." Addressing this technical showcase, the "Plan" explicitly opposes blind technological炫耀 and pseudo cross-disciplinary integration, using funding and project approval to say "no" to technological堆积. It serves as a reminder: technology is a means, not an end; a tool, not the essence. The noisier technology becomes, the more art requires quietude. If the "disease of technological superstition" is not cured, no matter how dazzling the stage, the audience's hearts will remain empty.
**The 'Disease of Trend-Chasing Imitation' – Reducing Creation to 'Replicating Hits'** This disease differs from the previous three as it concerns the "creative ecosystem." Short-sighted opportunism is about "rushing," while trend-chasing imitation is about "copying." Blind obedience is passive "compliance," while trend-chasing imitation is active "flattery." Technological superstition uses hardware to掩盖 emptiness, while trend-chasing imitation uses templates to掩盖惰性. Looking at the current stage, the homogenization of themes, styles, techniques, and even creative teams has reached an alarming level. When poverty alleviation became a hot topic, stages were flooded with related plays; when Party history themes gained popularity, "red packages" were everywhere; after one location succeeded with an "immersive" format, theaters nationwide scrambled to become "immersive." Creators are no longer engaged in creation but in "chasing trends"; it is no longer about self-expression but "riding the coattails of popularity." More lamentably, this trend-chasing is often packaged as "genre-based creation" and finds a significant market. Proponents argue, "This is what audiences like," "This is what wins awards," "It worked for others, so why shouldn't I do it?" However, the essence of art has never been repetition, but discovery; not following, but creating. The apparent abundance of productions masks a monotonous uniformity. As audiences experience aesthetic fatigue, theater loses its potential for diverse innovation. Centering on the principle of "upholding tradition while fostering innovation," the "Plan" requires art troupes to deeply study the unique artistic characteristics and stylistic positioning of their respective forms and companies. It emphasizes "encouraging independent thinking" and "advocating a spirit of artistic exploration," presenting another targeted remedy for this ailment. It reminds us that trend-chasers only get leftovers, and imitators can never become their true selves. If stage art is reduced to merely "replicating hits," it is nearing its end—and this is precisely what the "Plan" aims to rescue.
The root causes have been identified, and the prescriptions have been written. What remains is the treatment. However, even the best plan is useless if not implemented; the strongest medicine is wasted if the patient refuses to take it. The true subject of "an illness must be treated" is not the policy or the document, but every individual within the industry. It is the creator who must be willing to say "no" to "speed." It is the manager who must be willing to say "stop" to "authority." It is the theater company that must be able to say "enough" to "flash." It is the critics who must dare to say "no" to "copying." An illness must be treated. The treatment must start today, with the next play, with oneself. Illness waits for no one. Delayed, a minor ailment becomes major, and a major one will inevitably become terminal—by then, even the best plan will be powerless to save it.
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