Ancient Chinese fable retold in 'The White Snake'

How well do you know that person who shares your bed? How well do you know yourself? Mary Zimmerman's adaptation of "The White Snake," a Chinese fable that's more than 1,000 years old, suggests that our relationships are fragile and only endure when we can love unconditionally despite the harsh truths we uncover.

Zimmerman has brought her colorful pageant to the Guthrie Theater, where it opened Friday. Originated at Oregon Shakespeare Festival, this staging has been to New Jersey, Chicago and Berkeley — with the addition and subtraction of a few cast members.

This is Minnesota's first look at Zimmerman's work — which includes an adaptation of "Metamorphoses" that won the 2002 Tony.

In a recent interview, Zimmerman said she doesn't write "radio plays." Her dialogue is simple and clear, her storytelling focused. But this is an artist who leans on imagery, movement, the capacity of the subconscious to comprehend more deeply than the verbal level. "White Snake" employs billowing sheets, giant puppets, richly detailed costuming, dance and an active set design to tell its story.

The result of all this is a contemplative 100 minutes, with occasional slow drifts in dialogue and exposition that nonetheless land us at a poignant conclusion. "Whatever world is yours, I want that world," says a mortal man who doesn't understand exactly who his wife is, but only knows that he loves her.

"White Snake" has been with us since the 900s, in divergent forms. Zimmerman's play regularly pauses to note a "fork in the story" before proceeding along one path.

To briefly summarize, a mythic snake has studied Taoist literature for centuries, hoping to achieve transcendence. White Snake (Amy Kim Waschke) and her less-cerebral friend Green Snake (Tanya Thai McBride) decide to slither down their magical mountain and spend a day with humans. Humble Xu Xian (Jake Manabat) offers his umbrella against the rain (ribbons of blue fabric tumbling from the rafters) and White Snake is smitten for life.

Fa Hai (Matt DeCaro), a Buddhist abbot, smells a rat (or rather, a snake) and warns Xu Xian, "That thing in your bedroom is not human and one day she will kill you." How often have I had that thought?

Fa Hai's inconvenient truth sparks epic battles of sea and sky, quests for life-restoring cures and magical visual surprises.

With a musical trio, narrations and ritual displays, Zimmerman summons the power of ancient theater. In acting, though, she instills a modern sensibility primarily in McBride's Green Snake — something of a Powerpuff Girl who doesn't trust authority. Waschke and Manabat are more reverent, DeCaro bombastic, yet still they come close to winking at irony.

Zimmerman uses Asian-American and white actors. The script also digresses on occasion with narrated descriptions of Chinese dramatic form. This allows Zimmerman to comment outside the story's cultural underpinnings (perhaps resisting arguments that she has appropriated Chinese heritage?) while embracing its universal themes.

How we handle the truth, how we love, how we approach life: These are issues for us all.