Night at the Opera: Themes of love, betrayal and war play out at a Cantonese opera in Hong Kong

The stage is set: The Cantonese opera The Ten-Year Dream staged in Hong Kong.

The sense of anticipation is palpable. A young actor is silently mouthing lines while working on her elaborate hairdo. Another is layering on thick make-up while singing in high-pitched bursts, probably limbering up her voice for the night ahead. There’s a swish of silk behind me as a stylist helps one of the lead actors don his bright yellow brocade gown. I’m backstage at the historic Yau Ma Tei Theatre in Hong Kong as the actors prepare for a performance of the Cantonese opera, The Ten-Year Dream.

Cantonese opera is a regional branch of traditional Chinese opera, which originated in the Guandong province of southern China in the 13th century. It evolved from Nanxi, a southern drama style that combined folk songs and ballads with plays of the Song dynasty, which later turned into a more elaborate performance involving martial arts and acrobatics. Until the 20th century, it was purely a male bastion, and men performed all the female roles. In 2009, Cantonese opera was inscribed into Unesco’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

Cantonese opera was once the foremost form of entertainment but modern times have relegated it to the background. There are fewer performing troupes and only a handful of theatres that still exhibit it. Built in 1930, the Yau Ma Tei Theatre in Kowloon is the only surviving pre-WWII cinema building in Hong Kong. It closed down in 1998 and was reopened in 2012 as an exclusive venue for Cantonese opera. The restoration retained its charming Art Deco façade, the original wooden roof beams, and the arch above the stage.

I arrive early for the show, and my guide Vivian Wong arranges for me to peek backstage. Tonight’s performance is a love triangle tragedy set in the 6th century, amidst the historical war between the Sui and Chen dynasties. The green room is a frenzy of activity. The lead actress, Tse Hue-ying who plays Princess Lechang, is seated in front of a mirror putting the finishing touches to her make-up. Her oval face is painted white and there’s a pinkish-red hue around her eyes, which have been accentuated with a pronounced cat-eye. There is an extravagant wig with a tall golden crown atop her head. Her fuchsia pink gown is a soft silk with an embroidered floral motif. Hue-ying has been a professional Cantonese opera artiste for the past five years. “But, I started singing and learning opera much earlier. When I was eight years old, my mother went to learn Cantonese opera. I followed her and I fell in love with the art form. I begged my mother to let me learn as well,” she says.

The auditorium is buzzing and most of the 300 seats are taken. The curtain goes up to reveal the backdrop of a Chinese palace. Tiny music starts up from the orchestra pit; as drums, gongs, and flutes vie for the upper hand, I wish I had brought along earplugs. Princess Lechang looks resplendent as she sings of her love for her husband, Xu Deyan. He belongs to the Chen dynasty and is at war with General Yang Yue of the Sui dynasty, who is decked out in a ferocious gold-and-black brocade outfit. Realising that her husband is losing, Princess Lechang helps him flee by pleading to the General who spares her life and takes her as his wife.

Sundry characters drift in and out, amongst them Princess Lechang’s (new) mother-in-law Madame Yang and sister-in-law Yang Shuangqing. Falsetto notes reverberate, accompanied by a loud background score. I don’t understand a word, but the acting and the play synopsis in the opera brochure help me along. There are all the tropes that make for a classic potboiler: a broken mirror as a pledge of love, a snooping sister-in-law, and, domestic violence. The saga finally culminates in Princess Lechang ending her life. I leave midway, but the sheer scale of the spectacle and Hue-ying’s anguished portrayal of a woman torn between two men stay with me long after.