Singing, dancing, banter: The ones who keep the show going

Two hours before the show’s start time, about 15 rows of red plastic chairs at the hard court near Block 406 in Ang Mo Kio were already “choped”.

Tissue packets, water bottles and even cardboard scraps on the seats meant they were already “taken” – by the living.

The front row, or “VIP seats”, had also been “choped” with bundles of joss paper – for the spirits to enjoy the show.

Hougang resident Molly Ng, 73, was already seated with her husband at 5pm, waiting for the action to begin.

It was Aug 16, the fourth day of the seventh lunar month. Just the night before, they were in Ubi for another getai show. 

They said they planned to follow every getai show around the island for the rest of the month.

“I watched getai as a teenager. It brings back fond memories. And it’s free entertainment,” Ng said as she waved to another “getai regular”.

In the past, someone would go around getai events selling pieces of paper with handwritten schedules of the various shows for a few cents, she said.

“I think he is gone,” said Ng. “But now, we can just check the getai schedule online.” 

Beside the stage, veteran getai singer-host Hao Hao sat quietly going through his lines and the rundown of the show.

Curious passers-by paused near him craning for a look or to snap a quick shot with their phones, while stagehands hollered instructions to each other over the din.

A picture of calm amid the frenzy, Hao Hao tucked into a box of fried bee hoon before powdering his face. 

The performances are fewer, and the audiences smaller than before – but a steady stream of loyal fans at every show continue to stop by for selfies and to offer food and press red packets into his hand.

In the past two decades, as his fame within the scene grew, local fans have pampered him with many gifts ranging from plushies of his favourite character Mickey Mouse to household items like laundry detergent capsules and tissue packs.

When he had a moment to himself, he gestured to this reporter to take a seat beside him and offered some of his desserts.

“Take one, and save one for the photographer,” he said in Mandarin, laying two bowls of sweet beancurd skin and barley soup on his cluttered table strewn with make-up brushes, tissue paper and other tools of his trade.

A portable fan set up on the table seemed to whir uselessly amid the humidity. Hao Hao, who did not appear to be perspiring, shared his tricks – he pulled out a packet of wet wipes and offered a fresh one to this reporter, saying: “This is good. It will keep you cool.”

One quick swipe and it was time to take the stage.

He donned a pink jacket embellished with white petals, skipped up the steps and breezily greeted the crowd: “Tonight the three of us are your hosts, and we’ve got all three generations covered – young, middle-aged and old.”

When Hsu Chiung Fang, the oldest of the three, shot back in mock protest saying, “Who are you calling old?”, Hao Hao pointed to himself instead.

Together, the trio, including Sam Loo, bantered in a lively mix of Hokkien and Mandarin, drawing laughter from the crowd.

As they chatted, the Hungry Ghost Festival event organiser walked towards them to hand them red packets as a “reward”. Several members of the audience did the same.

Umbrellas went up as a light drizzle began.

ST PHOTO: JASEL POH

Getai audience members were undeterred by the rain as they stayed glued to their seats.

ST PHOTO: JASEL POH

A drizzle threatened to dampen the show but nobody left their seats. “These are showers of blessings,” Hao Hao quipped.

Every show during the month is a blessing to Hao Hao too.

Before the Covid-19 pandemic, he would be booked solid throughout the entire festival month – at one point landing about 30 gigs. Now, the popular getai star does just over 20 shows during this period, and the number declines by a few every year. 

A brief 2023 rebound, fuelled by committees spending down their pre-pandemic savings, fizzled out within a year once prices soared. 

He has not raised his own fee in the past decade. He declined to share the figure.

“People say I’m stupid, but I take it as my contribution to the sector to keep it alive. I can buy fewer new costumes,” said Hao Hao, who is known as the “Thousand-Change Prince” for his flamboyant stage costumes.

His co-host Hsu, 76, said that in her prime in the 1990s, she would clock hundreds of shows a month, rushing from one stage to another daily. This year, it is down to seven or eight shows.

The veteran emcee, who claims to be the oldest getai performer in Singapore, said in Mandarin: “Times are changing, and I feel seventh-month getai shows will just keep decreasing.

“But it’s Singapore’s unique culture – we started it and some other places followed. We must keep it alive.”

What has kept performers like them afloat is no longer the seventh-month shows but year-round engagements.

“People in this industry used to say that the work we do during seventh month alone can feed us for half a year,” Hao Hao said. “It’s not true any more.” 

Today, getai shows are staged for all kinds of occasions. These include Chinese festivals marked in the calendar such as Mid-Autumn Festival, Nine Emperor Gods Festival, Chinese New Year, and Duan Wu or Dragon Boat Festival. 

They now also feature at Grandparents’ Day, National Day, temple celebrations and grassroots events.

The only lull period is around Qing Ming festival, typically in early April. Hao Hao said he usually takes a break then.

An addition to his calendar is a monthly Happy Sing-Along session organised by the Singapore Chinese Cultural Centre (SCCC) since October 2023. 

These sell-out shows provide getai performers with a source of extra income, and widen their reach to new audiences.

This year, SCCC also celebrated Zhong Yuan Jie for the first time, giving getai an additional platform to be showcased. Its getai shows featured a multicultural cast with Malay and Indian singers.

SCCC’s chief executive officer Alvin Tan said the centre hopes to raise public awareness of the history, customs and practices of the festival, while reminding Singaporeans of the importance of universal values associated with it, such as filial piety and compassion. 

Regular events like these are especially helpful to the getai industry in land-scarce Singapore, where many empty plots once used for getai shows have been gradually redeveloped with new flats, said Hao Hao.

For example, several empty fields near Hougang Mall and in Ang Mo Kio industrial park are no longer available for getai shows, he said.

The shows have also been pushed farther from housing estates to avoid noise complaints, he added. This has contributed to a dwindling audience, as people find it difficult to find or reach shows held in areas like industrial parks.

Veteran getai organiser Aaron Tan said an accessible location in the heartland can attract younger audiences.

“We are not BTS or Blackpink, so younger audiences won’t travel far to watch us. They will only catch our shows if we are nearby.”