In the shifting cultural landscape of 1960s and ’70s Taiwan, when the rise of cinema and television pulled audiences away from the theatre, many feared the extinction of Taiwanese Hokkien opera, better known as gezaixi. Once resplendent in grand indoor theatres, opera troupes were forced onto makeshift outdoor stages, clinging to survival even as their audiences dwindled.

It was in this atmosphere of uncertainty that Taiwanese writer Hung Hsing Fu penned Final Bow or San Xi (《散戏》- “Dispersed Opera Troupe”), a short story that captured the despair of an art form seemingly on the brink of collapse. Decades later, Ming Hwa Yuan Arts & Cultural Group, Taiwan’s most renowned opera troupe, collaborated with acclaimed playwright and filmmaker Huang Chih-kai, as they brought the tale to life in an epic stage production, capturing the drama, comedy and beauty of gezaixi.

Slated to play at the Esplanade Theatre in October, Final Bow then is a loving homage to Taiwan’s golden age of opera and a meditation on artistic survival, it carries audiences through laughter and tears, blurring the line between performance and life itself.

For actress Sun Tsui-feng, a veteran gezaixi performer who has been the soul of Ming Hwa Yuan for nearly four decades, the story of Final Bow resonates deeply. “The short story was written in the 1950s, when television had just appeared and opera troupes were struggling to survive,” she recalls. “Because of the title, many avoided it. Final Bow sounded inauspicious, as if opera itself were finished. But when my daughter studied the story in high school, she told us: If anyone can stage this properly, it should be us. If we don’t, we’ll regret it. Her words gave us the courage to move forward.”

Sun also happens to play the lead in Final Bow, where she plays Ah-Zhu, a gezaixi troupe leader who must hold everything together, from managing performers to solving crises to keeping the company alive. “A troupe leader is never just a performer,” Sun explains. “She must ensure the troupe’s survival, feed her members, solve every difficulty. I drew inspiration from my father-in-law, the founder of Ming Hwa Yuan, and from my husband, who worked tirelessly to move us from roadside stages into indoor theatres and eventually onto the international stage.”

The play itself expands upon the original short story, shifting between the onstage performance and backstage lives of the fictional Yushan Opera Troupe, with a play-within-a-play format that features a progressively absurd retelling of the classic love opera of Chen Shimei and Qin Xianglian, unfolding alongside the troupe’s struggles to adapt to the decline of gezaixi. Much of the play was also infused with the performers’ own lived experiences, with many real-life events making their way into the script.

The parallels between Ah-Zhu and Sun’s own life are clear. “That is why the role is so meaningful to me,” she adds. “It shows not only the glamour of opera but also the improvisations and struggles behind the scenes: when an actor is missing, when someone from props must suddenly play a role, when the troupe leader has to cover every gap. Opera reflects life itself; no matter how difficult, you cannot give up.”

Trained in accounting, Sun entered the troupe as a daughter-in-law with no background in opera. Over nearly 40 years, she endured hardship, studied relentlessly, and transformed herself into one of Taiwan’s most celebrated performers. “When I finally played the troupe leader, it felt as though my whole life had been training me for it,” she says. “On stage I am an actress; off stage I handle troupe affairs alongside my husband, the troupe leader. Like my character, I must be both strong and resilient. In the original story, Ah-Zhu disbands her troupe in despair. But in our production, we added a final line of hope: even if this troupe must disperse, others will endure, and opera will live on.”

For director Huang Chih-kai, the journey began in high school, when he first encountered Final Bow in a literature class. “What struck me most was its atmosphere of despair, there was this feeling that the whole art form of opera was collapsing,” he remembers. “Years later, I was honoured when I was approached by the now-CEO of Ming Hwa Yuan to adapt the short story – I myself have had some experience in opera, and saw the troupe disband, so I relate very strongly to the story.”

Huang recognises the challenges gezaixi faces today, its survival still very much at risk with fewer troupes performing it and an ever-shrinking audience. “Gezaixi is performed in Taiwanese dialect, and fewer young people today speak or understand it, and that’s a crisis,” he says. “But luckily, the government has begun supporting Taiwanese-language performances, including flagship productions by Ming Hwa Yuan, which now stages large-scale shows that can still draw crowds of over 10,000.”

“Even so, we can’t grow complacent. It’s important to balance tradition and modernity so that opera resonates with today’s audiences. In the past, many scripts came from Chinese classics, stories of Xue Dingshan, Fan Lihua, or Justice Bao — because we lacked original writing. Now, I focus on telling Taiwanese stories, rooted in our own culture. That connection makes the performances feel closer and more relevant to the audience.”

In the original story, everything ends in disbandment and hopelessness. But in Ming Hwa Yuan’s staging, even though the troupe disperses, there is still a sense that opera itself will endure. That transformation, from despair to hope, is what gives this play power. “In the play there’s a scene where the opera troupe eats sweet potatoes for survival, and talk about survival and change. The sweet potato, once foreign, survived and became a representative of Taiwanese tradition,” says Huang. “Taiwanese opera must be the same. It can only become tradition by enduring. Since it developed in Taiwan, it’s relatively young, and has always absorbed influences from modern theatre techniques to music from Peking opera, even elements of Beiguan. That makes it a very dynamic form. To me, each performance is new, and always keeps pace with the times.”

For Huang, working with Sun Tsui-feng was crucial. “She has decades of experience, not just as an actress but as someone who has lived through the real struggles of an opera troupe. When she plays the troupe leader, she is essentially playing herself, her own life, her own endurance. She was the anchor of the whole show,” says Huang. “I actually incorporated a lot of her real experiences, both the light ones and the dark ones. She rehearses so seriously through all the pain and toughness, and is just so dedicated to the craft.”

Sun’s memories of hardship underscore the authenticity of her performance. “I often think back to how poor we once were. There were times we had nothing but sweet potatoes to eat. We would tear them apart, boil them into soup, and survive on that. We even bring those memories into our productions, to remind ourselves and our audiences never to give up. Poverty forces change, and change leads to growth.”

She recalls times when the troupe survived on little more than sweet potatoes, or when she took the stage eight months pregnant, hiding her belly behind long sleeves until the audience burst into laughter. She remembers stepping into roles at the last minute, whether as a dignified heroine or as the upright judge Bao Gong, a role traditionally played by men. “For me, stepping into such roles was not difficult, because by then my body and spirit had been trained through hardship. In fact, I enjoyed it. I had always played elegant female roles, so it was refreshing to paint my face black-and-white and play a strong, upright judge.”

And today, Ming Hwa Yuan celebrates its 96th anniversary with Final Bow, a work that honours its past while looking to the future. Sun’s daughter now represents the troupe’s third generation, bringing new ideas while carrying forward tradition. “Without her encouragement, we might never have staged San Xi,” Sun admits. “Today, as executive director, she brings in fresh, innovative ideas while still respecting tradition. That is why audiences love our troupe: we honour the old while embracing the new.” Huang hopes the show will spark curiosity among younger audiences. “Final Bow is about tradition, about recognising and cherishing where we come from,” says Huang. “I hope that when audiences watch this play, they remember their own roots, their own sense of belonging. This work is an invitation to reconnect with our respective cultural identities, and to value those who keep traditions alive.”

And today, Ming Hwa Yuan celebrates its 96th anniversary with Final Bow, a work that honours its past while looking to the future. Sun’s daughter now represents the troupe’s third generation, bringing new ideas while carrying forward tradition. Huang hopes the show will spark curiosity among younger audiences. “Final Bow is about tradition, about recognising and cherishing where we come from,” says Huang. “I hope that when audiences watch this play, they remember their own roots, their own sense of belonging. This work is an invitation to reconnect with our respective cultural identities, and to value those who keep traditions alive.”

In the end, Final Bow is more than a play; it is a tribute to the resilience of Taiwanese opera, a reminder that even in the face of hardship, art can endure, and that every bow, no matter how final it seems, carries within it the seed of renewal. “In every walk of life, people face struggles and sacrifices that often go unseen. Each of us has different roles to play, at work, at home, in society, and we have to perform them with integrity,” concludes Huang. “Like on stage, once the curtain rises, we must do our part, no matter what difficulties we face. Above all, it’s about resilience, identity, and the belief that no matter where we are, the stage is everywhere, and our responsibility to play our part well.”

Final Bow plays from 31st October to 1st November 2025 at the Esplanade Theatre. Tickets and more information available here

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