Heartfelt, hilarious, and profoundly moving, Final Bow is a theatrical triumph that captures the bittersweet beauty of an art form standing at the end of an era and the edge of change.

What makes theatre so precious is its transience. Each performance exists only in that instant, where there are no two ever alike, no recording ever truly able to capture the electricity of being there. That very impermanence gives theatre its magic, but also its fragility: once the curtain falls, it is gone, surviving only in memory. Every live performance, then, is both a celebration and a quiet act of preservation. Every curtain call is, in its own way, a final bow.

That fragility lies at the heart of Final Bow, written and directed by Taiwanese theatremaker Huang Chih-kai, a deeply felt meditation on art’s temporality and endurance. Just as technology and changing tastes have reshaped every medium , from radio to film to streaming, the play reminds us that evolution often comes with loss. Taiwan’s legendary Ming Hwa Yuan Arts and Cultural Group, one of the few remaining major troupes performing traditional Taiwanese opera (gezaixi), understands this intimately. With nearly a century of history, they have lived through gezaixi’s golden age and its decline, yet continue to reinvent themselves for new generations.

Performed entirely in Taiwanese Hokkien, Final Bow carries an authenticity inseparable from Taiwan’s own cultural story. Adapted from Hung Hsing Fu’s award-winning short story, it follows the fictional Yushan Opera Troupe through the 1960s–70s, when the rise of film and television threatens to displace traditional theatre. What emerges is firstly a chronicle of artistic struggle, but also reveals a portrait of a found family bound by their devotion to performance, a tender, chaotic, deeply human reflection on what it means to keep the curtain rising even as the world moves on.

The troupe members bicker, quarrel, and underpay each other, but they also cling to one another in shared purpose. Born into the world of gezaixi, the members know little beyond it, terrified of what lies beyond the stage. In their dysfunction and loyalty, they become irresistibly endearing, a family forged in paint and spotlight.

Throughout the production, Huang’s metatheatrical “play-within-a-play” device is masterfully executed, with the troupe’s staging of Chen Shimei and Qin Xianglian descending repeatedly into delightful chaos. Props go missing, cues are missed, actors improvise wildly to cover mistakes, and the result is riotous farce at its finest. These moments capture the essence of live theatre: the exhilarating dance between disaster and artistry. The cast’s impeccable comic timing turns every mishap into revelation, reminding us that each performance, like life itself, is beautifully imperfect.

Yet beneath the laughter, Final Bow finds deep pathos. At its emotional centre is the young performer Xiu Jie (Chen Chao-ting), who dreams of a future beyond the fading troupe, and her newfound lover Zhi Zheng (Su Yun-he), whose disapproving mother views gezaixi as a lowly profession. Their star-crossed romance mirrors the art form’s own struggle between survival and surrender, between tradition and transformation. Chen’s luminous performance conveys both fragile hope and quiet resolve; she becomes the show’s emotional heartbeat.

The women of Final Bow in particular shine. Li Yu-chen’s A-Lan, pregnant and exasperated with her philandering husband (Chen Tzu-hao, playing the troupe’s swaggering martial arts lead), radiates a mix of strength and heartbreak. Fiona Huang’s Su May, A-Lan’s rival in love, unexpectedly evolves from comic foil to complex antagonist, her yearning for recognition a poignant echo of the troupe’s desire for validation.

And presiding over them all is the incomparable Sun Tsui-feng as Zhu Jie, Yushan’s matriarchal leader. A real-life veteran of Ming Hwa Yuan, Sun commands the stage with quiet authority and wry humour. Even in stillness, she exudes the aura of a woman who has weathered decades of change, a living embodiment of gezaixi’s endurance. Her mere presence holds the troupe, and the audience, together.

By the final act, when the troupe resolves to give one last magnificent performance despite financial and artistic uncertainty, the result is nothing short of rousing. The musicians play with thunderous conviction as the cast throws themselves, body and soul, into the moment. Martial artists flip and twirl; the actors belt out soaring arias; and Sun Tsui-feng herself steps into a warrior’s role in an exhilarating last-minute substitution, her mastery of gezaixi’s physical vocabulary dazzling in its precision.

Visually, Final Bow is a feast. Chen Hui’s hand-painted backdrops evoke the charm of traditional stages, while Chen Chien-jung’s visual media design, enhanced by animation from Chen Wei-cheng and Chuang Chun, adds a painterly sense of motion. The revolving set glides between backstage bickering and onstage splendour, making the passage of time feel fluid, alive. Costumes by Jennifer Lee and Lan Tee Theatrical Costumes are stunning: embroidered opera robes shimmer under Su Chun-pai’s lighting, while the women’s offstage wear reflects the chic optimism of 1960s mid-century fashion.

For all its humour and colour, Final Bow never loses sight of its melancholy. As the troupe unites for their last performance, the laughter gives way to quiet reflection, a recognition that every ending carries within it a memory worth cherishing. The final montage, blending archival footage of gezaixi’s past performers, lands with devastating tenderness. As Zhu Jie comforts Xiu Jie, promising that gezaixi will find its glory again, you feel the weight of history and the fragility of art suspended in a single, luminous moment.

Three hours pass in a heartbeat. Final Bow is not only about theatre, but is the epitome of quality theatre: alive, unrepeatable, and deeply human. It reminds us that even as the spotlight fades, art endures in the hearts of those who witness it. You leave the theatre awed, moved, and grateful, applauding not just for the performers, but for time itself, for allowing us to share one final bow.

Final Bow played from 31st October to 1st November 2025 at the Esplanade Theatre. More information available here

Production Credits

Playwright & Director Huang Chih-kai  Cast Sun Tsui-feng, Chen Chao-ting, Fiona Huang, Li Yu-chen, Chen Tzu-hao, Chiu Yi-fen, Kao Yu-shan, Su Yun-he  Ensemble Wang Tung, Wang Wen, Chen Pin-An, Chen Hsuan-Lin Chen Syuan-Jhou, Lin Shao-Chun, Lu Yu-Peng, Huang Zhi-Wei Ho Szu-Yu, Ho Ping-Jui, Fan Jui-Lung, Ho Shao-Jung Musicians (String and Wind Ensemble) Li Bin-Cheng (Huqin), Liao Li-Yuen (Yangqin) Chen Chien-Cheng (Suona, Xiao), Ho Ying-Shan (Sanxian) Musicians (Percussions Ensemble) Ho Ting-Hao (Lead Traditional Percussion), Lu Cheng-Hao (Gong), Sun Feng-E (Cymbal) Artistic Director Chen Sheng-fu Producer Chen Chao-hsien Stage Design Chen Hui Scene Building Fuda Theatrical Scenery Production Ltd., Ada Stage Design Ltd., Yi Sheng Culture Co., Ltd. Visual Media Design Chen Chien-jung Animator Chen Wei-cheng, Chuang Chun Illustrator Chang I-hsin Lighting Design Su Chun-pai Music Design Chen Hui Vocal (Aria) Design Chen Chih-shang Costume Designer (Fashion) Jennifer Lee Costume Lan Tee Theatrical Costumes, MHY Costume Department Martial Arts Director Ma Xue-Wen Choreography Cheng Chin-chi Makeup Artist Yu Ming-Lung Hairstylist Chou Ting-Hua Stage Manager Wang Yao-chung Stage Technical Director Liao Shih-Hsien Set Technician Chen Wei, Ho Pin-Ying, Luo Yun-Rong, Wang Kuan-Hsun, Zhang Chi-Shin, Yen Yu-Sheng Lighting Technician Chen Wei-Lun, Chen Chien-Yu, Lin Chia-Jung Sound Technical Director Chen To-Fu Sound Technician Chi Pao-Chin, Lu Ya-Li Video Technician Xu Hui-Ting Audio Engineer Ko Yi-Chieh Audio Engineering FLY SOUND Company Executive Producer Lin Jia-An Arts Administration Liu Yi-Rou, Sun Li-En Costume Manager Yang Hong-Hao Costume Assistant Huang Han Props Manager Yang Jeng-Shian, Song Yi-Shan Production Photographer Hsu Chin-Min Videographer Chu Chien-Ching

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