In three magical opera performances, “The Book of Mountain and Seas” at Boston’s Emerson Paramount Center transported packed audiences of theatergoers to another time and place.

The 12-member Ars Nova Copenhagen choir, six puppeteers, and two percussionists worked together during the 75-minute-long shows to bring Chinese creation myths to life in an awe-inspiring way. In what is the final show of the Arts Emerson 2023/2024 season, “The Book of Mountain and Seas” breathed life into the ancient tales with its otherworldly music, stunning visuals, and timely subject matter.

“It feels so meaningful, with Chinatown being next door, that we would end the season with this piece,” Arts Emerson Interim Executive Director, Ronee Penoi, said in a discussion after the show, after calling the trio “three internationally renowned artistic forces collaborating to make this performance possible.”

Conceived and executed by award-winning composer and librettist, Huang Ruo, with MacArthur Fellow puppeteer and artist, Basil Twist, acting as director and production designer, this adaptation of an ancient book brought to life four vignettes from the book, telling the legends of Pan Gu, the Spirit Bird, the Ten Suns, and Kua Fu Chasing the Sun.

In a discussion after the performance between Huang Ruo, Basil Twist, creative producer Bethany Morrison, and moderator Ronee Penoi, Ruo said of his work, “this project grew from a 10-minute vocal piece to a vocal opera. … It was a book that existed for 2,000 years, it was so old but at the same time so timeless.”

Ruo went on to say while reading the book that the piece is adapted from “the first thing that came to my mind, which was global warming.”

This message about the urgency of global warming permeates the opera and offers a stark reminder of impending climate change. Penoi said the piece “uplifts our responsibility to the Earth and each other.”

The show began in darkness with the 12 choir members entering one by one, their faces lit by the light from iPads, which contained the music from which they were reading, they began to sing out in pure-toned, sustained notes. Text on the screen behind the performers gave context

in both English and Chinese, reading, “Formed in chaos Pan Gu is the origin.”

The chaos was palpable in the music that the choir was singing with deeper voices coming in periodically to join the sopranos. Suddenly, the choir, which had formed at the front of the stage, stepped aside to reveal a puppet affixed to a large circle on the ground. As the puppeteers elevated the disk, green eyes could be seen glowing. The projection read “In death, he transforms.” The lights went out and the puppeteers stepped forward one by one to pick up the pieces of the puppet which look strikingly like large pieces of driftwood. The projection read “humans and the world are created from his body.” The puppeteers pulled white cloth like streams from the body and spread it across the stage, representing water.

People might hear the word “puppet” and get the impression that this performance is cheesy or campy like “The Muppets” or “Sesame Street.” They would be wrong. These puppets are operated by humans, but that is where the similarities end. From pieces of driftwood that transform into a walking Pan Gu to lighted red globes on sticks that represent the sun, these puppets are true works of art. When asked about his role in the production as director and production designer, Basil Twist said of himself and Huang Ruo, “He’s in charge of how it sounds and I’m in charge of how it looks …. I approached it as a puppeteer, because it’s

who I am.” In this piece Twist elevated puppetry to an art form. The puppeteers blended seamlessly into the background during the entirety of the performance, only being visible when they were meant to be seen.

During the question and answer session, Huang Ruo said of the choir and percussion section that he wanted to go to the most primitive instrument of mankind, which is voice and percussion.

“Those are universal to me; everyone has a voice to tell and a percussive sound,” he said, adding “it is a Chinese story, but I want it to be a universal story.”

Ruo succeeded in making the story universal. The audience did not need to understand the language the choir was singing in to be able to grasp the meaning of the performance. “They are singing the ocean in the second scene. I created those words so all of you from different

languages and cultures could guess what was going on.”

The second vignette was a depiction of the Spirit Bird. It seemed as if it was the shortest piece in the production and started with a large white triangle made of cloth covering the stage with puppeteers standing along the edges, blending into the darkness, moving the cloth to make it appear as if it were waves on the ocean. A white flag on a long stick, with a red stripe on one side appeared over the waves and danced around on top of the water, fluttering with the motion of its movement.  The choir’s song was wild and unpredictable like waves on the ocean. The projection told of a princess named Nu Wa who swam in the sea. A figure made of driftwood swam out in front of the waves as the choir sang with more intensity. The projection informed the audience that Nu Wa drowned at sea and was transformed into a bird. The white flag appeared again over the waves. The projection said, “For the rest of her time she fills

the sea with twigs and pebbles endlessly.”

The next scene was the story of the ten suns, who decided to ride together and shone so brightly that they began to dry up the lakes and rivers. Ten red-hued globes moved about on long sticks on the stage in time with the music. Suddenly, a figure came onto the stage — it was Hou Yi, the God of Archery. They picked up a curved piece of the “driftwood”

that was lying there and dramatically used it as a bow to shoot the suns out one by one, leaving only one remaining. Starlight filled the screen behind the sun.

In the final scene, puppeteers brought all of the pieces of driftwood together on the ground, while the sun rotated around them. The choir moved away from the front of the stage where they were gathered and revealed a tall, humanoid creature made of the pieces, it was Kua Fu.

The puppeteers each grabbed a limb and lifted the creature into a standing position where he began to grab for the sun. Seeing the puppet stand was a powerful moment of awe. The puppet reached and ran, turned, reached some more, with the sun always out of its grasp. Growing thirsty from chasing, Kua Fu knelt to the ground and consumed white rivers made of cloth. Eventually, he grew so thirsty that he fell over, dead. The choir gathered in the center of the stage as peach blossoms fell from the rafters. Where Kua Fu had fallen, a paradise blossomed.

“The Book of Mountain and Seas” is a visually stunning opera that draws the viewers into the myths it represents and sends a strong message about climate change. Huang Ruo and Basil Twist have created a masterful piece of work. As one audience member put it after the show, “I feel like I experienced a creation myth. I’ve read plenty of them, but I feel like I truly experienced one tonight.”