The millennia-old art form is now taking its last stand with less than 10 troupes in the whole of Malaysia
When I was younger, I’ve only ever seen one Chinese opera performance—and that was in Guangzhou, China. I don’t recall much, seeing as I was four or five at the time, but I do remember the performer’s lilting, almost nasally voice as she sang in tandem with the orchestra’s rhythmic tune. The loud hum of the erhu accompanied her singing, and the urgent clashing of cymbals conveyed an atmosphere of high tension.
She sang in Cantonese, but it was more a mix of the regional linguistic styles in southern China than the dialect we are more familiar with in Malaysia. And what this meant was that I hadn’t been able to understand a word of it.
Read more: A Day in the Life of Keith Lai, A Cantonese Opera Actor in Hong Kong
Today, while the language used in Chinese opera has adapted to modern times, it is more formal and uses proverbs to relay either classical Chinese fables or stories that illustrate human values and morals. Because of this, many find it difficult to understand the repertoires. Coupled with the passage of time and the proliferation of different forms of entertainment, a steady decline of this ancient art form seems inevitable.
Award-winning filmmaker Chong Keat Aun's Snow in Midsummer movie depicts the rise and fall of a Cantonese opera troupe in Kuala Lumpur during the ’80s. His tired expression speaks volumes about the state of Malaysian Chinese opera.
“The sad reality is that in my 17 years of documenting traditional arts of the local Chinese community, we may be looking at Chinese opera's extinction in the next decade,” he states solemnly. “And it’s not just because we don’t have the financial support or the lack of awareness. It's more how [Malaysian Chinese opera] cannot keep up with the times, especially since people these days prefer instantaneous entertainment.”
Related: Up Close With Award-Winning Malaysian Filmmaker Chong Keat Aun