The Seven Sisters

Don't mess with the Seven Daughters of Tsoi!

How's this for an unusual lineup: Patricia Lam Fung, Cantonese jade girl, just after her departure from Shaw Brothers; Amoy actress Xiao Juan, shortly before her reinvention as Ivy Ling Po, Shaw's queen of huangmei opera films; American-born Cantonese star Chow Kwun-ling, in one of her last movies; Ouyang Shafei, veteran actress of the Mandarin screen; and an 11-year-old Nancy Sit, years before she donned her first pair of go-go boots. The 1962 Cantonese film The Seven Sisters (aka The Seven Daughters of Tsoi aka Seven Playful Women) has them all.

The following synopsis appeared in Screenland No. 27 (December 1961). A scan of the original article is available here.

"THE SEVEN SISTERS"

Lap Tat Company's current comedy "The Seven Sisters" is an excellent piece of entertainment. But it also points out, quite seriously, to contemporary parents how to handle the love and marriages of their grown-up daughters.

The seven sisters are all daughters of Au-yang Sha-fei. The eldest Chau Kwan-ling is efficient business-wise. She has been taking care of the family business since her father died, never realizing that she is getting older and older, and not yet married. The second sister Mei Lan is more lucky; she is ready to marry a musician. The third sister Patricia Lam Fung is too shy and modest, trying all the time to match her eldest sister and Soo Siu-tong, who is secretly in love with her. The fourth sister, an expert on love, plays with fire and is almost burned. The fifth sister is not grown-up yet but trying all the time to convince others that she has. The sixth and the seventh, fortunately, are still too young to cause trouble, or the problem would be even more complicated.

Here are seven more lobby cards. I love the pointing motif that runs throughout the set.








I don't know whether to feel envious or sorry for the hapless fellows who marry into this matriarchal clan!

eBay Find of the Week: Sexy Ling Po

Here's a rare look for Ivy Ling Po. Rather saucy, don't you think? Ivy is best known for her male roles in Shaw Brothers' huang mei opera films, such as Love Eterne (1963), The West Chamber (1964), and The Mermaid (1965). She also played the lead in Shaw's Lady General Hua Mulan (1964).

Along with fellow cross-gender actress Connie Chan, Ivy epitomized the ideal boy next door of the 1960s. Both stars inspired a fervent devotion among their large following of female fans, many of whom wished for a big brother, boyfriend, or husband just like Ivy or Connie.

But as you can see, Ivy certainly had what it takes to charm the lads as well.

* This unusual photo is up for auction right now on eBay.

Treatment for Wolves

Here's another one of those wacky Screenland pictorials (No. 27, December 1961). This time around our favorite fatty Peng Peng gets cured of his lasciviousness by "Doctor" Cheung Ying-choi and Siu Keun, a popular Amoy actress from the 1950s who some 16 months later would become one of the hottest stars on the Mandarin screen. That's right, folks: this young lady is none other than Ms. Ivy Ling Po!

A scan of the original is available here.


Pang Pang, despite his unusual bulk, was as fond of women as he was fond of eating. One day, he went to a friend's house and saw a nurse at the house opposite. He called to her as if he knew her.


The pretty nurse, Siu-kuen, did not know Pang Pang. But he insisted that he knew her. Siu-kuen had to admit it. She even invited Pang Pang into her house. He of course jumped at the offer and went.


Siu-kuen told him that this was the bungalow of her doctor whom she had followed here to take a rest. She said that she would introduce the doctor to him. Pang Pang said that was fine. After a moment, Cheung Ying-choi came out, claiming that he was the doctor.


Pang Pang wanted to get rid of the doctor, so that he could be with Siu-kuen alone. He complained of a stomach ache, and the doctor brought instruments.


It was the biggest hypodermic needle in the world, and also a thermometer which was one foot long, which he forced into Pang Pang's mouth. Pang Pang was quite scared of these huge things, but since the girl was there, he didn't mind much.


After taking his temperature, Cheung said it was necessary for an injection. Pang Pang was taken aback. "But your needle is so big!" he stammered. Cheung Ying-choi smiled, "But so is your own body."


As he said so, he motioned Pang Pang to remove his pants. When his fat buttock was exposed, Cheung held the needle like he was holding a rifle. He aimed carefully and pushed it down into Pang Pang's flesh.


Almost two feet of the needle went in and Pang Pang bellowed like a pig being tortured. "Don't move," Cheung warned seriously. "Otherwise the needle may break and will require an operation to get out."


Pang Pang gritted his teeth and appealed, "Please take it easy." "I have tried my best," Cheung declared. "Now don't move, I'm going to inject the medicine." "How many c.c.?" "It is not how many c.c. It's two pounds!"


After Cheung finished injecting the two pounds of medicine, Pang Pang cried in despair, "I'm going to die!" Cheung took a look and was secretly shocked. For the medicine had made Pang Pang's belly swell real big!


Pang Pang could not move a foot. He held on to his belly and moaned, "I sure am going to die this time!" Cheung called Siu-kuen out and winked at her. "We have succeeded," he told her proudly.


Seeing Pang Pang, Siu-kuen could not help wanting to laugh. She told Cheung, "This is exactly the kind of treatment for wolves!" "He should have had enough this time," Cheung replied.

Zhuang Xue Fang:Queen of Amoy Films

Zhuang Xue Fang in the April, 1959 issue of Southern Screen

I'm sure my buddy Ral never imagined I would end up in the obscure wilderness of late 1950s Amoy-dialect cinema when he introduced me to Hong Kong movies via Jet Li, Chow Yun Fat, and his legendary "girls with guns" clip videos more than ten years ago. But sometimes life takes us down unexpected paths, and so it is that I find myself very excited about Dev Yang's new post about Amoy movie queen Zhuang Xue Fang.

If you are like me, you probably thought that Chinese cinema was neatly divided into Cantonese and Mandarin, just like a VCD with the left audio channel devoted to one dialect and the right channel to the other. But for a brief period back in the late 1950s, films made in the Amoy dialect (which was the predominant dialect spoken by Chinese living in Taiwan, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, and the Philippines) actually outnumbered Mandarin films being made in Hong Kong at the time.

Although the boom was short lived and the movies were often cheaply produced copies of popular Cantonese and Mandarin films, the Amoy industry did produce its own share of beloved and memorable screen stars. To give you a taste of the world of Amoy-dialect cinema and its movie queen Zhuang Xue Fang, here is an article from Southern Screen No. 14 (April, 1959) about her film Beauty and the Beasts (1959), plus a rare clip from Shrews from Afar (1958). Zhuang's costar in that film was another popular Amoy actress named Xiao Juan — who would go onto even greater fame later in the 60s after she signed on with Shaw Brothers and became known as Ivy Ling Po.


Zhuang Xue Fang and Xiao Juan (aka Ivy Ling Po) in Shrews from Afar (1958)

Further Reading

• "The Rise and Decline of Amoy Films" by Wong Ching Ho
• "From Transnationalism to Nativism: The Rise, Decline and Reinvention of a Regional Hokkien Entertainment Industry" by Jeremy E. Taylor

More Treasures from the People's Repubic of YouTube

Here's a rare find: Xiao Juan (before she became famous at Shaw Brothers under the name Ivy Ling Po) singing a cover of Patti Page's "Changing Partners" in the Amoy-dialect Shrews from Afar (1958), directed by Wong Tin-lam.

The next two clips are courtesy of Dev Yang, who has recently launched a YouTube channel to accompany his blog The Golden Age of Chinese Cinema. I'm very eager to see what other rarities he can pull out of his sleeve!


The one and only Bai Guang in Blood Stained Begonia (1949). It's an absolute shame that none of her films are available on DVD.


I never thought I'd see this: the opening scene of Calendar Girl (1959), featuring the enviable Peter Chen Ho sandwiched between the fetching Helen Li Mei and Diana Chang Chung-wen. Calendar Girl has long been a "holy grail" film of mine. It's the movie that set the mold for the Eastmancolor Mandarin musicals of the 60s, from director Tao Qin's own subsequent efforts — like Les Belles (1961), Love Parade (1963), and The Dancing Millionairess (1964) — all the way to Inoue Umetsugu's Hong Kong Nocturne (1967) and Hong Kong Rhapsody (1968).