No matter the performer, the Monkey King’s default pose was a contumelious contrapposto. Hip swayed back over a bent knee. The opposite leg extended out with the ball of the foot kissing the floor like it’s testing the temperature of water. The torso leaned back but with a forward energy, as if he’s always ready to leap. Throughout the opera the Monkey King rarely stands on his center or keeps his limbs hanging by his side. When he’s not the center of attention he’s often scratching himself, still drawing the eye. Paulus, with Twist and makeup designer Jeanna Parham, keeps the Monkey King in a perpetual grin. He is a joker ready to laugh at you, not a jester for your entertainment. Wang, Zhang, and the trio of puppeteers were outstanding in their collective embodiment of Sun Wukong. 

Yee and Twist choreographed superlative ensembles. The choreography in opera often stands on its own during a musical interlude (Carmen) or gently moves the soloists, choristers and supernumeraries around the stage to bring motion to the music. There was rarely stillness in “The Monkey King.” Zhang flipped and tumbled across the stage. The cast of ten corps dancers similarly catapulted in back handsprings or flowed through poses evocative of kung fu. In one of the most maximalist scenes, the Jade Emperor (Konu Kim) was joined by fellow deities decked out in 1980s glam rock colors and wigs. As the ensemble sang about their questionable leadership, two dancers flanked the emperor punctuating Huang’s music with high kicks and punches.