Jerry SoongPhoto Essay
It was akin to witnessing a revival as a familiar scene unraveled – the smell of burning incense in the open-air carpark, the unbridled chattering in the Hokkien dialect, and the hasty arrangement of plastic chairs in front of a makeshift stage.
The tragic folding of Sin Sai Hong, Singapore’s oldest Hokkien opera troupe, meant a measureless loss for our heritage, and local filmmaker Royston Tan’s eponymous documentary lent itself both as a final glimpse and as a wistful memory of the 104-year-old outfit.
Today, only a few Hokkien operas continue to plug around our city with their classic setup and stage sensibilities intact. One of these troupes calls itself Shuang Ming Feng (literally 2 Brilliant Phoenixes), and had its last handover 28 years ago. 8 actors strong, it doesn’t advertise and neither does it perform frequently – the idea is to perform 5 shows per month, and only on select months.
Still playing at temples and open fields, Shuang Ming Feng is now led by Li Ping (pictured). Underneath the yellow tents of the make-shift stage set on wooden stilts, the tough actresses each had a timeworn chest of cosmetics to themselves. The wooden chests were decorated with photos of the characters they play for reference.
The actresses carefully scrutinized the photos of the characters while they conscientiously applied their makeup. Foundation came first, followed by the eyelid colors and rouge, before the final tracing of distinct black lines begirding their eyes. Wigs came in 2 parts – 1 for the fringe, and the other for the rest of the hair.
Minutes before the show, the troupe donned their elaborate costumes and congregated hurriedly in front of the deities at the adjacent temple. Acting in their characters, the troupe conducted a prayer ritual, replete with ritual music courtesy of Li Ping’s father, Hei Pi, who used to run the troupe. According to Stacy Ong, one of the actresses, the prayers “have to be done, in order to ensure a successful performance”.
The seasoned actresses found no need for rehearsals and scripting. Once they have familiarized themselves with the fable in question, they would storm the stage with a series of impromptu performances. “We just play off each other’s dialogue on stage. Having done this for a long time, we know how to react to each other,” explained Li Ping.
Even with the decline of long-running Hokkien opera troupes, hope is still aglow for the art. Like a reflex reaction to the fading tradition, new Hokkien opera interest groups have blossomed in recent years. Aixin Lovely Opera House, established in 1993, recruits and teaches individuals with passion for the art.
“To see the tradition of this show being passed down to future bearers, and to keep the art alive – that gives me the greatest joy,” beamed Chinese national Li Shuai Ming, Aixin’s opera director.
Lin Zi Jing (right), Aixin’s troupe leader and former disciple of legendary Taiwanese opera actress Yang Li-hua, used to be a Mandopop singer in the early 90s, and never considered performing Hokkien opera. “However, there came a time when my own friends conceded that Hokkien opera will no doubt perish with the passing of time and it was then when we decided to form this group and preserve this tradition,” recalled Zi Jing.
Unlike traditional Hokkien opera troupes, this interest group felt more like a gathering of close friends than a professional outfit. Actresses assist and teach each other how to put on makeup. Even while struggling with mascara, any number of actresses may spontaneously break into song and dialogue rehearsal.
Among the youngest actors in the troupe is 17-year-old Sammi Chan (right), who has been acting for 8 years. “When I first started, it felt awkward. I wasn’t very familiar with the art, and my Hokkien was bad,” she confessed to UrbanWire. This fan of 71-year-old Yang Li-hua started performing after meeting Zi Jing and hasn’t stopped since.
While it’s undeniable that Hokkien opera has seen better days, one can’t help but to be proud of those who continue to preserve the art in all its archaic glory. For starters, Raymond Tan’s recent comedy film Wayang Boy celebrated the art’s unique blend of fables and songs, affirming its relevance even today.
Suffice to say, coming across a Hokkien opera show is a privilege in itself. Troupes may appear to be just another group of actors, but, in reality, so much history and deep-seated kinships rest under the veil of its primordial tales.
“I guess it’s the people here that make me the happiest. They feel like another family to me,” Sammi grinned as she peered at her troupe mates bustling off-stage.