Phi Phung (R) in a scene of the play Chuyen lang Ung (Stories of Ung Village)

They are almost never in the spotlight, but strong supporting actresses are happy with their lot.

She only has to appear on the stage for people to start smiling in anticipation.

And Phi Phung never disappoints, her chubby build and artistry as a comedienne has them in stitches in no time.

Phi Phung, who works for Ho Chi Minh City’s IDECAF Theater, inherited her passion for drama and comedy from her father, the celebrated artist Phi Thoan.

But she only became well-known recently, landing supporting roles in many plays and films. Her genuinely cheerful countenance and outlook on life mask the tough times that she has experienced for many years.

Thirty years ago, she followed her father to the Bong Hong (Rose) drama troupe where she sold tickets and handed out salaries to actors but she was suspended from work for losing the theater’s money. She was training to become a tailor when she found herself working as a prompter at the troupe a week later.

Her acting career began when she replaced an actress in the play Co lai xe va chiec binh co (The female driver and the antique vase) and made a strong impression.

Phung lost her job when the troupe merged with the Cuu Long Giang troupe. She performed short comedies at amusement centers and peddled yogurt at the same time.

A few years ago, she found work with IDECAF.

It was as a pregnant woman in Phep la (Magic) that she came into full prominence and set the stage for roles in many films.

One of her outstanding performances is her portrayal of a devoted wife in the sitcom Chiec bong ben chong (The women behind their men).

Phung does not have any regrets that she isn’t assigned leading roles.

“Why should I feel sad about being a supporting actress? I have experienced ups and downs in my acting career, but I’m so happy that I’m still performing. A fortune teller was right when he said I would only be famous after 50.

“We feel at ease when we’re content with ourselves and just leave things the way they are. I’m not as successful as a lot of people, but happier than many. ”

She says her newfound fame helps her sell more yogurt.

The 52- year-old, who lives a simple life and gets on well with people in her neighborhood, does not regret her plain looks either.

“All my brothers and sisters in my family are tall like my father. I’m the only one that is short and fat. I’m not attractive, but I’m loved by the audience, that’s the most important thing.”

She has a delightful, infectious laughter. Some of her fans have asked her to laugh into her mobile phone when talking to them to help cheer them up when they are down.

Her down-to-earth nature and optimistic outlook sometimes makes it difficult for her to cry in tragic scenes. “Though I used to be poor, I don’t find anything so sad that it makes me cry.”

So she thinks of her late father, as memories of him help her cry when she needs to.

Balancing tragedy with comedy

Kim Ngoc is another actress famous for her success in supporting roles.

Born to Phuc Van and Han Xuan, who write children’s books, Ngoc had a happy childhood, learning to sing and act at an early age.

She graduated from a director’s course in 1987 but was jobless for 10 years.

She later found work ironing clothes for IDECAF.

Every night, she stood near the stage, taking in the artistic atmosphere and observing the artists intently.

Her acting career took off with the play Dua con tien kiep (The child from a previous life) and she wowed the the audience with her portrayal of a black maid in Chuyen van chuong (Literature affairs).

She has gone on to act in many plays and films, and her performances have been warmly received by the audience.

“I don’t know why such a sorrowful loner like me can act so boisterously. Acting in comedies is a good stress-reliever. Maybe I’m blessed with comic skills by the artist’s ancestors to provide some psychological balance.

She has a sad story which she rarely tells.

In 1984, when Ngoc was studying at the HCMC Stage College, a French film crew came to the city to make a film about Molière.

“I know a little French and was eager to know more about French youth, so I made friends with the director and we walked together on the street, chatting amicably.”

But rumors soon began to fly within Ngoc’s school that she was having an affair.

“Everyone began to look at me with contempt. I was deeply distressed and tried to commit suicide but was rescued.”

She left school and spent the next 10 years as a recluse.

Like her parents, Ngoc has recently taken up writing. She is writing her first script, “simply pouring out my heart and writing from my constant observations.

She likes a peaceful, solitary life and travels mostly by bicycle.

Old fashioned work ethic

Anh Hoa, a veteran artist who has won admiration for her outstanding acting in more than 50 films, is ever ready to tackle new challenges.

Hoa was born into a family of artists. H maternal grandparents are hat boi (Vietna opera) artists and her parents are cai luong (traditional southern folk opera) artists Van Danh and Anh Nguyet.

She was only seven when she began performing onstage herself and accompanied her parents on trips performing cai luong around the country.

She married Minh Chi, a famed cai luong artist, before the couple found work with the Tran Huu Trang troupe in 1976, where she became famous for playing the wetnurse in the cai luong play Duong Van Nga and the mother in Kieu Nguyet Nga.

Financial difficulties forced the couple to quit acting, and they set up a cooking stall near their house, preparing to spend the rest of their lives there.

But fate had other plans for her.

The turning point came when she was chosen to play Mrs. Do, a wetnurse for a family in the French prize-winning film L’amant (The Lover) in 1992.

This role also landed Hoa a high-paid role in the critically acclaimed feature Mui du du xanh (The Scent of green papaya) by the overseas Vietnamese director Tran Anh Hung.

She also acted in an overseas Vietnamese production of Sai Gon nhat thuc (Saigon Eclipse) before acting in a host of other local films including: Nguoi dep Tay Do (The Beauty of the Western Capital); Dong tien xuong mau (Hard-earned Money); Dat Phuong Nam (Southern Land); and the prize winning Mua len trau (The Buffalo Boy) by overseas director Nguyen Vo Nghiem Minh.

Most of Hoa’s characters are heroic mothers in wartime and women who suffer great losses and mental torment but are willing to make immense sacrifices for their children.

Many viewers are moved to tears when watching her act.

Directors like to have Hoa in their films as they rarely have to shoot her scenes more than once.

She doesn’t want to be dubbed and wants her voice to be recorded on set to inject her feelings better.

Hoa also memorizes her lines before shooting.

“I’d rather work in the old-fashioned way. I memorize the scripts in order to act well and not waste the crew’s time,” says the 68-year-old thespian.

Reported by Hoang Kim