Experience has taught me that some performers don’t take it too kindly to having a lens poking into their faces, so I approached one of the aunties, wearing my cheeriest smile and in halting Mandarin, if they’d mind my intrusion backstage. Then from down the road came D and M, who marched straight up the stairs by the side of the stage and disappeared behind the scenes. Old hands like them make me feel like a timid pup.
I hurried in after them, and waltzed a few decades back in time to see mostly men and women in their 50s, 60s, dabbling red make-up paint on lips and gelling hair curls readying themselves for the night’s wayang. This was the final operatic performance in a nightly series that started on Monday in celebration of the Taoist deity Tua Pek Kong‘s birthday. The incandescent light bulbs cast an atmospheric orange-yellow hue over the insides of what felt like a dilapitated, but lively and colourful shack, with costumes strewn all over the place and a network of electrical cables cross-crossing overhead. The performers were more than game in posing for us; a few of them had probably enjoyed a celebrity following in the days of their prime.
Back on the other, rightful side of the stage was a meagre audience of about a dozen. The smell of burning incense from a trio of giant joss sticks nearby buried its way into our clothing and our hair as we attempted to interpret the scenes that gestured (since none of us could understand a single phrase that was being sung) of justice, romance and deliverance of second chances.
Backstage is literally just behind-the-scenes, erm, screens
Veteran performers do their own make-up…
… while the younger ones (good on ’em!) require a little bit of assistance
Photographs of the famous and the artistes themselves adorn most dresser boxes
One final check before the curtain call
Acting is an intense experience – those tears could only have sprung from real emotions