A Daughter of the Stage Taiwanese Opera Diva Sun Tsui-feng

Looking back over her life so far, a life intertwined with Taiwanese opera, Sun Tsui-feng remarks that everything has unfolded as if by design. Sun was born into a Taiwanese opera family, although her father in fact hailed from Hebei Province in northern China. Her parents knew the hardships of theater life, and, being well aware of the bleak prospects for traditional opera, made sure to keep their children off the stage. The guardian spirit of Taiwanese opera had other plans, however: Sun was preordained for a life in opera.

Opera in the blood

The story begins with Sun's father, who was born into poverty in an area of Tianjin renowned for its Chinese vaudeville tradition. At around eight years old he was taken under the wing of a local artiste, and began his career as a roving performer. His travels eventually brought him to Taiwan, where he adopted his guardian's surname and toured with an acrobatic troupe. The acrobats often worked with one particular opera company, and in time the young man was betrothed to Chen Yu-kuei, second daughter of the company's leader. Sun Tsui-feng was the offspring of this liaison. In due course she married her cousin Chen Sheng-fu-who ultimately came to inherit the mantle of leader of the Ming Hwa Yuan Taiwanese Opera Company.

When Sun was two years old her parents moved to Taipei. Her father continued working on the stage, while her mother concentrated on raising a big family-eight kids in all. Like her siblings, little Tsui-feng did well at school. She was often designated as class monitor, and as she recalls, from this elevated position she used to feel ashamed of her father's occupation.

Sun originally intended to progress from junior to senior high school, but in the event she opted for commercial college so as to be able to help her parents financially as soon as possible. As a student, she blossomed. She was leader of the college band, went on camping holidays and day-trips with her classmates, showed herself off in mini-skirts, and loved to dance-especially the cha-cha and the jitterbug. After graduating she joined a trading company and became a regular nine-to-fiver.

A downhome Mr. Right

One day Sun returned home to find a dark-skinned, crew-cropped lad in an old-fashioned suit in the house. It was her cousin from Pingtung, Chen Sheng-fu, whom she'd never clapped eyes on before. Chen looked like he'd stepped out of another universe, in total contrast to that inhabited by Sun. Nevertheless, the lad was instantly smitten by his vivacious cousin, and with encouragement from their relatives this odd couple began to date.

Sun remembers being doubtful at first. Chen showed up every Sunday and used to take her on his scooter to her regular appointment with a Chinese-medicine doctor, but Sun had to continually remind herself: "Pay attention to what he's like as a person, stop worrying about what he looks like." Still, there didn't seem to be much chemistry between them. Then one weekend Chen appeared at the door dressed in denim from head to toe. It was a hilarious sight, but Sun was moved, because, as she recalls: "I knew he'd dressed up like that just for me." Sun says that was when she began to fall for Chen.

At the lovely age of 24, in the prime of life, Sun married cousin Chen. To please his bride, Chen arranged a western-style wedding reception at the Grand Hotel in Taipei. Sun remembers that as she walked down the flower-bedecked aisle on her father's arm, she felt "like a princess in a fairy tale." Sun's mother told Chen not to let his bride get drawn into opera, and Chen, as the only member of his clan not working in the opera company, reassured her that it was out of the question-especially given Sun's weak command of Taiwanese, which audiences could only find off-putting.

Turning point

"In fact I was a little lady with no great ambitions," recalls Sun. "All I wanted was to be a good wife and mother, cooking dinner and waiting for my husband and children to come home." Everything went smoothly for the young couple after they married. Chen set up a film company and Sun, who had studied bookkeeping, took charge of the finances. Soon their first son was born. On the rare occasion that they could get away from the pressures of urban life, they went south to visit Chen's clan and the rest of the Ming Hwa Yuan company in Pingtung. But those visits were hard work for Sun.

The entire clan was involved in Taiwanese opera, which was already waning in popularity, and the family even spent Lunar New Year's Eve performing. The various daughters-in-law trod the boards with the rest of the troupe, but off-stage they were still expected to cook dinner and wash clothes for everyone. It was an awkward situation for a modern city girl, the only one in the family who couldn't sing opera, and Sun was always glad to get away when the vacation came to an end. But over time, she found herself impressed by the clan's cohesiveness and strong sense of values. She realized that this large, close-knit family had much to teach her about life.

In her second year of marriage, Sun, who had always loved little children, lost her five-month old son to sudden infant death syndrome. Shortly afterwards her husband's firm folded when an overseas distributor defaulted, leaving the young couple hounded by creditors. For Sun, it was like being catapulted from a garden of roses into a vale of tears.

The couple were so poor in those days that they often didn't know where their next meal was coming from. Once, Chen had just enough money for a single boxed lunch, so he pretended he'd already eaten and left the meal for his wife. Sun put half of it aside for dinner, and that evening she placed the food, still in its styrofoam box, into the rice cooker to heat up. The styrofoam began to melt of course, but Sun ate what she could pick out anyway. It was only when Chen found out about this that the five-months-pregnant Sun realized she had risked poisoning herself, and she spent a worrying few days as a result. "To this day I never make a fuss about the quality of boxed lunches. Just having the food to eat is usually good enough for me." Seeing Sun's bright smile today, it's hard to believe that a successful woman like her once passed through such a dark period.

Who's prettier, you or me?

Chen's parents continually urged the cash-strapped couple to move south to join the rest of the clan. Ming Hwa Yuan leader Chen Ming-chi had marked out Chen Sheng-fu, the one best qualified among the family's next generation, to take over the running of the company. But the younger Chen needed time to think about it, given that the prospects for Taiwanese opera looked so bleak back then. "So I tried to get Sun Tsui-feng to join the family first," recalls Chen.

On one occasion Sun was trying to coax Chen back to the opera company, pointing out that theirs was the only branch of the clan not working in Taiwanese opera. In response Chen handed Sun a mirror and asked: "Who's prettier, you or me?" "Me of course!" answered Sun. "Exactly. That's why you have to go and join the company." And that's how Sun was lured into the crazy world of the Ming Hwa Yuan opera company.

At the age of 26, and pregnant again, Sun had come full circle-having little suspected the part that Taiwanese opera would come to play in her life. Heading south with her little bag of belongings, the ever-optimistic young woman told herself: "If the other wives in the clan can manage it, then I can too." And so she began to learn a new life from scratch, chopping firewood and cooking at the big stove with the rest of them.

Daughters-in-law

Within a couple of years Sun had fully adapted to life as a young Ming Hwa Yuan wife, clambering aboard the truck with the rest when it was time to go on tour, sleeping nights on the rickety stage, and performing come what may-even at eight months pregnant.

The Ming Hwa Yuan wives gave birth in whatever town the troupe happened to be in at that time. Chen Sheng-fu himself was born backstage, his mother having been singing out front until the contractions got too much for her. And thus, before the customary month of post-natal confinement was over, Sun was off again with the troupe, diapers and bottles and all.

How did this modern girl adapt to the role of docile daughter-in-law in a big traditional clan? Sun explains that while she may be totally modern in appearance, she is in fact very traditional in her thinking and behavior. For her, a girl follows one of two paths in life: she either becomes an independent, single woman, or gets married and becomes someone's wife. If she chooses marriage, she commits herself to a serious role from which there is no turning back-just like Fan Lihua, Sun's favorite opera character.

In this male-dominated clan headed by a six-times married patriarch, Sun found herself very much a member of the second sex. But even when Sun or one of her sisters-in-law had a grievance, she refrained from bringing a modern woman's perspective to bear on the situation and voicing her protest. "I was never too strident about these things in front of the family. Instead I'd wait till the time was right, then tell my views to Chen Sheng-fu, because he's got more clout in the family than me." With this canny, softly-softly approach, Sun Tsui-feng became "chair of the women's institute" within the family.

Maidservants and eunuchs

Once Sun's offstage life had fallen into step with the rest of the troupe, she turned her attention to becoming a performer. She knew she had started late, so she worked harder than the others to learn her craft and seized every opportunity to show herself on stage. In traveling opera companies, the director usually assigns parts in the afternoon, soon before curtain up. Other girls, terrified of being cast at the last moment in a role which required memorizing lots of dialogue and lyrics, tried to avoid being spotted by the director. But Sun was different. She went out of her way to catch the director's attention, and even asked outright for parts she wanted. She knew this was the only way to develop her potential in the extemporaneous art of outdoor opera.

Sun progressed in this way from non-speaking parts, to maidservants and eunuchs with just a line or two, to full-blown character roles. One time the troupe's principal comic actress was sick, and Sun volunteered to stand in, because the role offered more opportunity for her to develop than in the standard "young female" roles.

Drawing on her cha-cha skills, Sun sashayed saucily onstage with a big red flower pinned to her dress. Everyone cracked up, both on stage and off. At this she turned decorously towards the musicians in the wings, and declared: "A little respect, if you please! I'm about to sing!" The audience erupted in laughter.

Doing the splits for Fan Lihua

Among the characters of traditional Taiwanese opera, the one closest to Sun's heart is that of Fan Lihua-a forthright, passionate heroine who differs from the more usual tragic, suffering roles, and who doesn't become disheartened even in her darkest hour. A character, in short, not unlike Sun herself. But a role like Fan Lihua, with its dexterous swordplay and acrobatic combat scenes, requires considerable physical ability.

Traditional opera performers usually begin training at the age of eight or nine, when their muscles are young and supple. Sun Tsui-feng was nearly 30-and already a mother-when she began, and the troupe instructors gently advised her to give up on this particular ambition. But most of the lead roles in Taiwanese opera are young male characters with martial skills. As Sun says: "I had already started out on this road, and knew that if I couldn't overcome my physical limitations then not only would I never get to play my favorite role, Fan Lihua, but also I'd be counted out for almost all the physically demanding male roles in the repertoire." Sun weighed up the situation, then threw herself into a grueling regimen of training.

The first lesson for Sun involved doing the splits, and she watched as a dozen or so kids around her casually raised one leg to shoulder-level. Then, on a cue from the instructor, they laid their heads in unison on their lifted legs. By this time Sun was down on the floor, clutching her thigh in agony. The sight of the kids resting their heads so easily on their legs, as if for a nap, was profoundly depressing. How could she, at the age of 30, ever match the condition of these 13-year-olds? But Sun refused to give up, and as well as attending early morning practice she also did another session at night. She pushed herself to the point where she was bruised all over, and it seemed that her bones and tendons couldn't take any more. But finally, to the astonishment of her instructors-martial artists themselves-Sun broke through the limitations of her own body. Within ten years she had developed from a bit-part player to being Ming Hwa Yuan's leading performer of young male heroes.

A pact with the guardian spirit

On the evening of Lantern Festival this year, Sun Tsui-feng was on the sports ground at Hsihu Elementary School, leading a class of youngsters through opera rehearsal. On stage, Sun's elder daughter was helping with the class, while her younger daughter was there too in the role of ox-demon king. Nowadays Sun gives over 200 Taiwanese opera performances every year, along with several dozen lectures and voluntary teaching sessions. In addition to playing traditional opera roles she finds time to do television series and shoot commercials, and is also featured in numerous public service advertisements. In Taiwan, hers is truly a household name.

With so many projects in progress, one wonders how on earth she finds the time for it all, and how she keeps all the roles separate.

Among her many roles, the one that Sun feels she plays best is that of "mother." Her method is to make sure that she always keeps in contact with her children and knows their schedule. When they were younger and she was performing away from home, she always made sure to find a public phone, so that as soon as her children got home from school they'd get a call from her. In that way they'd hear her voice, know just where she was, and know how to get hold of her if they had any problems. Of course, keeping in contact has become a lot easier for her since the advent of mobile phones.

Furthermore, when her children are on vacation, she keeps them close by her, partly so as to enjoy precious time spent together with them, and partly so they can understand the travails of their parents' way of life and forgive them for not always being there when needed. "Just now I can neither choose a life that is all family, or one that is all work. So why not combine the two together?" says Sun with a laugh.

After years of nonstop activity the ebullient actress began to suffer palpitations of the heart. But as the company's principal performer, and the wife of its owner, so much depended on her. Sun had no choice but to carrying on acting, relying on sheer willpower to see her through. This only exacerbated her condition, however, both mentally and physically. She wasn't sleeping properly and couldn't keep her food down, and in a short period she shed seven kilograms.

Sun suspected the recurrence of an old ailment, but the cardiologists and gastroenterologists she saw could find nothing wrong. Eventually she consulted a psychiatrist, who confirmed that she was suffering from depression.

After six months of treatment, Sun says she is now better at not keeping things pent-up inside. But on the topic of her manic schedule, Sun says: "If I'm ever to lighten my workload, I'll probably have to tell Chen Sheng-fu to marry eight women to spread the load."

Sun continued working out as doggedly as ever while undergoing treatment. Now she's off the anti-depressants, and has resumed the furious pace of life as a star actress.

For Sun Tsui-feng, Taiwanese opera is a haven in her life. Opera enabled her to stand up, and has brought her both fame and fortune. "So long as I'm still kicking, Taiwanese opera is my mission. I couldn't walk away from it if I tried," says a determined Sun. She feels that in everything she does-the teaching, the TV serials, the public service broadcasts, and the newly released biography-she is sowing seeds on behalf of the guardian spirit of Taiwanese opera, enabling more and more people to know the art through her work, and that of the Ming Hwa Yuan opera company.

It seems that Sun Tsui-feng was indeed predestined to be a daughter of the stage.

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Sun Tsui-feng was already 26 when she first trod the boards in Taiwanese opera. Now she's a household name in Taiwan, known for her work on stage, in television and in film. (courtesy of Ming Hwa Yuan)

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Sun's biography vividly portrays the story of her life in Taiwanese opera.

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The first time Sun Tsui-feng played a "young female" role on an outdoor stage, she excitedly posed for this souvenir photo. (courtesy of Ming Hwa Yuan)

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Sun Tsui-feng married her cousin, Chen Sheng-fu. Together they are working to assure the survival of Taiwanese opera. (courtesy of Ming Hwa Yuan)

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Sun gives over 200 performances a year, in addition to filming commercials and giving lectures. But what she cares about most is promoting the love of theater among children.

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Sun Tsui-feng has worked unremittingly to pass on the traditions of Taiwanese opera. Here she is shown rehearsing Taiwanese opera with children from Hsihu Elementary School. Ming Hwa Yuan set up the stage and provided costumes for the kids free of charge.

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Under Chen Sheng-fu's leadership the Ming Hwa Yuan company has broken through the traditional limitations of the art, taking Taiwanese opera into prisons and hospitals and onto construction sites. To coincide with the release of Sun Tsui-feng's book, the company is holding a photography competition and a series of lectures. (courtesy of Ming Hwa Yuan)

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Everyone in the Ming Hwa Yuan clan, whether young or old, gets to appear on stage at some point. This custom was initiated by the company's six-times-married former leader, the late Chen Ming-chi. The picture shows the scene on the occasion of Chen Ming-chi's 70th birthday.