Hong Kong actress and Cantonese opera veteran, Tse Suet-sum (known as “Sum Jie”), recently shared intriguing anecdotes concerning traditional opera superstitions and personal spiritual encounters during a television appearance on Live Spiritual Contact, hosted by Leung Sze Ho, Vibe Wong, and Darren Wong. The episode, which aired last night, focused on dispelling common misconceptions about ritual opera performances and recounting widely circulated ghost stories within the theatrical community.
Tse clarified a persistent misunderstanding regarding “Shen Gong Xi” (divine merit performances), often staged during the Hungry Ghost Festival. Contrary to the popular belief that these shows are performed “for the ghosts,” Tse emphasized their true purpose: “These merit performances are traditionally staged in front of temples, such as those dedicated to Guan Di or Tin Hau (Mazu). They are fundamentally offerings to the deities.” She explained that an empty seat or central pillar in the temporary theater structure often serves as an honorary place for the honored deity, typically marked with banners proclaiming “Joy Shared by Gods and People.”
The actress recounted a chilling incident frequently whispered among opera troupes, involving a production of the classic play Trial by Three Magistrates in a remote village years ago. During a pivotal scene where the magistrates questioned the actress playing the defendant, a sudden, dramatic shift occurred. Tse described: “A fierce wind abruptly swept through the theater, and the stage lighting took on an unnatural, sickly green hue. The sudden disruption was so frightening that the musicians stopped their gongs and drums.” According to the legend, a local spectral presence borrowed the actress’s voice to articulate a long-suppressed grievance. The narrative concludes with the subsequent discovery of a murdered girl’s burial site and the eventual apprehension of the killer, illustrating a supposed justice meted out through supernatural intervention.
Tse also detailed a startling personal experience while reporting on the 2004 Athens Olympics. Having traveled to Greece in August or September for the event, Tse, focused on maintaining her vocal fitness for a performance slated for November, performed her daily vocal exercises (“practising her voice projection”) along the Aegean Sea coast near the media village. She described the act of rehearsing alongside the picturesque coastline as “incredibly romantic.”
However, while practicing on the seawall, she began to feel an unnerving sensation of being watched. This feeling escalated until she became aware of a group of large stray dogs approaching her from behind. Tse recounted speaking to the animals directly, assuring them she was “a good person” and not a threat. She noted that the dogs then seemed to focus their attention past her, parting to allow her to leave the area unimpeded. The following morning, over breakfast, Tse learned a disturbing fact: a Korean journalist had tragically drowned after falling into the sea precisely from the spot where she had been practicing her vocals the day prior. The close proximity of the event, coupled with the unusual behavior of the dogs, left a lasting impression on the seasoned performer.
Such anecdotes highlight the deep-seated spiritual beliefs and traditions interwoven with Chinese opera, offering a glimpse into the mysterious side of performance culture often hidden from the public eye.
