2002年底，我回台北跟公視商量「少林尤里西斯」在台灣的播放事宜，在「鼎泰豐」狹小的樓梯間，驚艷於壁上的一張海報。上面的女子，頂著華麗的唐朝髮鬢及衣飾，舞姿曼妙，容貌端麗細緻，帶著一抹似有還無的神祕微笑，活生生的古代人，卻又有著說不出的前衛感。一個星
期後，我跟兩個女伴坐在十幾位觀眾之間，屏息欣賞「漢唐樂府」的演出。他們在文建會大樓的穿堂，搭起小巧的勾欄，無視於門外的車水馬龍，閒閒地演出優雅的南管樂舞，把我們帶入一個恍惚的古老世界中。那是他們的二十年回顧展演。這麼好的藝術，這麼少的觀眾，我惋惜之餘，有種發現稀世珍寶的竊喜。細細讀遍了牆上張貼的各式漢唐剪報與資料後，我被創辦人陳美娥及陳守俊兄妹的故事深深吸引，那樣的台灣江湖世界，我完全陌生，卻一直帶著浪漫的嚮往。「浪漫」，是紀錄片倫理所忌諱的字眼，但我相信美麗的邂逅，巧合（更偏離嚴肅的紀錄片哲學了），不管那麼多，這是我想拍的紀錄片。
第二天，我打電話給陳女士，她聽了我的自我介紹後，很熱情地說要過來當面聊聊，一個鐘頭後，就駕著一輛賓士車，與她哥哥守俊，施施然地出現在我家巷口的丹堤咖啡了。初次見面，夜裡十點鐘，文雅的美娥滔滔不絕地闡述南管音樂的優越與重要性，以及她復興南管的使命。豪氣的陳大哥在一旁微笑傾聽，很欣賞妹妹的模樣。五十幾歲的兄妹倆個性鮮明，但舉手投足間的默契與體貼，卻呈現一種相依為命的動人。
美娥的父親是歌仔戲團的琴師，母親在團裡掌廚，他們帶著九個小孩，隨著戲班到處流浪。美娥兩歲時，被送去給姑媽撫養。姑媽是另一個劇團的台柱，常吸引大批的戲迷來貼賞金，貼金牌。可惜好景不常，電影取代戲曲，成為民間
的新娛樂。她姑姑只好解散戲班，跟姑丈帶著美娥，與一位盲樂師，成為賣藥維生的流浪藝人。十七歲那年，在親生母親的喪事中，美娥第一次與陳大哥重逢。當時在高雄混黑幫的陳大哥，幽默風趣，活力十足，一見面就賞給美娥一個大紅包，裡面有兩萬元的現金。對這位充滿個人魅力的哥哥，美娥一見如故。
當時美娥在台南主持電台節目，講古，演唱台灣民謠。有一天，一位聽眾來信，要求美娥演唱南管樂曲。不知南管為何物的美娥，一聆聽老師傅開口演唱，就驚艷不已。當她決定放棄穩定的電台工作，專注於南管的學習時，陳大哥慷慨地同意支持她的一切生活所需，幾年後，更放下一切，與美娥來到人生地不熟的台北「豎館」，成立「漢唐樂府」。「漢唐」的爭議不斷，陳大哥一路扶持美娥，就像她的守護神。
咖啡店打烊了，美娥與陳大哥力邀我去新店山上的一家山房喝茶，續攤。我因為第二天還要早起，就作罷了。幾天後我回到美國，開始籌拍本片。半年後，卻接到陳大哥過世的噩耗。之後四年的拍攝期間，我目睹了許多親切的友人陪伴美娥渡過她人生最悲傷，最困難的時刻。今天，堅強的美娥，仍帶著「漢唐」繼續走下去。在「南管女子」首映前夕，謹在此向陳大哥，以及所有將生命貢獻給理想的藝術家們致敬。
My first encounter with Han Tang Yeufu happened almost by accident. It was the winter of 2002 and I was in Taipei to work out the terms for the broadcast of my film, "Shaolin Ulysses" on Taiwanese public TV. One evening, I decided to grab a bite to eat at the famous dumpling house, Ding Tai Fong. As I entered the restaurant and climbed up the narrow stairway, I saw an amazing poster on the wall. It showed a beautiful woman in a gorgeous Tang Dynasty costume. Her hair was done up high on her head in the style
of the period and her face was ghostly white. She smiled mysteriously, as if hiding some secret. "Han Tang Yeufu Ensemble" it read.
A week later I attended my first Han Tang performance -- marking the troupe's 20th anniversary -- in the lobby of the Council for Cultural Affairs. There were about a dozen of us in the audience. We sat in folding chairs in front of a small traditional Chinese theater stage that had been set up at one end of the room. The musicians came out — four of them, all women -- and began to play one of the spare, lilting melodies that typify the Nanguan repertoire. A dancer emerged, the one from the poster. She crossed the stage in delicate, mincing steps that made her appear weightless. I was transfixed. The world around me, the world I lived in, yielded to an ancient magical realm that e
xisted only onstage. I could barely contain my excitement afterward. I felt as if I had discovered something truly precious.
My fascination with Han Tang grew when I learned the story of the company's founder, Mei-O Chen. Mei-O was born into a poor family of 9 children. Raised by her aunt, she spent her childhood traveling around Taiwan as a wandering performer. As a teenager, she discovered Nanguan and decided to dedicate her life to the music's survival. That's when her brother, Shou-Chun, whom she had not seen since she was a little girl, re-entered her life. So moved was he by his sister's dream that he resolved to give up his life as a gangster and help her form her own troupe. Thus, Han Tang Yeufu Ensemble was born.
These lives were very different from mine. They seemed so exotic. Now I realize that many documentarians frown on representations that emphasize the "otherness" of the subject. But it was precisely this "otherness" -- of Mei-O, her brother, and of Nanguan -- that inspired me to make this film.
