Meet Zhao Jin, a beloved veteran performer in Singapore whose vibrant career spans over five decades of theatre, television, and cultural education. Best known for his iconic comedic performances alongside the late Hua Liang, Zhao Jin has since evolved into a passionate advocate for Mandarin language and heritage.
At 75, he remains a dynamic presence—hosting oldies programmes, teaching Mandarin storytelling, and inspiring younger generations with his lifelong dedication to performing arts and language education. His sharp articulation, deep cultural knowledge, and unshakable sense of responsibility make him a true icon in Singapore’s Chinese-language performing arts scene.
How did you enter the world of acting?
I met Hua Liang in 1969 when I was studying at Dunman High School. I joined their theatre group at that time. The Children’s Theatre Society was very active then, performing on television and stage. I’ve always loved performing. But my Mandarin was poor because I was from Indonesia.
I just wanted to participate and see if I could make people laugh, so I joined. Back then, we did recordings at the radio station. Later, we left the station and we became an independent stage troupe. At that time, we performed dramas at Victoria Theatre and had variety shows, including singing and dancing.
Honestly, when you truly love something, it becomes part of your soul—you just can’t live without it. Be it drama or any other art form, I can’t live without it. Even now, wherever I go, I still return to that starting point.
What were some of the earlier challenges in your acting career?
I came from Indonesia as mentioned, had no relatives here, lived under someone else’s roof, and had a tough life.
Because my Mandarin wasn’t good, while other actors in our troupe spoke very standard Mandarin, almost like Beijing dialect, I couldn’t pronounce like that. Being Indonesian, my speech often went off-tone. It was really difficult to learn their intonation and rhythm.
But our teacher could see that I was passionate about acting. Even though my language wasn’t good and I was clearly weaker on stage, he knew I was serious and gave me a chance.
After the Children’s Theatre Society disbanded in 1974, we formed the Youth Theatre Troupe.
Back then, there were no microphones, so you had to run to the front of the stage and project your voice. The stage was where we trained our language and artistic skills—very grounded.
Can you share more about your working relationship with Hua Liang?
Apart from acting, we also performed crosstalk. Our crosstalk acts were particularly well received, and many groups invited us to perform. Radio and TV producers also came to watch us live and thought we were funny and suitable for television.
Actually, we never expected to get into television, because we knew we weren’t really the TV type. TV prefers a natural style and Singapore-accented Mandarin, while our crosstalk was more Chinese-style. But by a twist of fate, we got in. That was in 1988.
The first time I appeared on television was to fill in for Hua Liang. He had something urgent and couldn’t turn up, and the producer asked him to find a replacement—so he found me. I didn’t want to go on TV at first because I didn’t feel suited for TV. But that night, I performed “Antenna Pair” and the audience response was great—they laughed non-stop.
After that, I spent a year in Hong Kong. Hua Liang collaborated with others during that time but felt no chemistry. He wrote me a letter asking me to return. We did have chemistry, built from many years of working together. I knew what he wanted, and he knew how I would perform—we were naturally in sync.
As soon as I returned, I was involved in a Chinese New Year programme. We performed “The Dentist’s Story” and it was a big hit—the whole housing estate burst into laughter. A journalist came to our company to interview us. Our programme made the newspapers the next day and we became famous. Starting in 1988, the TV station gave us a regular programme: “Big Mouth Time”.
Honestly, we never wanted to be famous. We genuinely loved performing. But when the opportunity came, we took it seriously. Before going on TV, we rehearsed five or six times. Every line was written down, edited, and refined—we kept only the best.
Many people say we had great chemistry—that was the result of countless rehearsals behind the scenes. We were stage actors at heart, and we insisted on rehearsals and having a script. Every line we delivered was polished and rhythmically beautiful.
You are already in your 70s and should be retired by now. What keeps you going?
As long as I can move, I want to do something meaningful. Especially in the second half of my life, the most important thing is to recognise your strengths and make use of them—there’s no need to compete with others.
Many of my peers have retired, but I still teach in schools, draw, and tell stories—not for money, but because it is my spiritual support.
I speak while drawing at the same time. I often say, “I must do this,” because if I idle around, I’d feel suffocated and worthless. By keeping myself busy, I feel hopeful, inspired, and courageous to keep living. At over 70, I still feel useful.
Many people have forgotten that I’m still active, but I am. To many people, I’m just history but I don’t see myself that way. I think life is not about chasing great achievements, but about finding meaning through experience.
To me, being genuine, facing my own abilities and passions truthfully, is more important than fame.
As long as there are people who appreciate what I do, who want to hear me teach and feel they gain something from it, I’m content. My greatest hope is for good health so that I can continue teaching.
What is the reason for your transition from acting into Chinese language education?
Because we are stage actors, everything we do involves rehearsal and preparation. Every sentence is refined, not improvised. Cultural development requires seriousness and depth.
Performance opportunities have declined, and with age, stage presence becomes limited. That’s why I’ve turned to Mandarin education. I am a teacher myself, and storytelling has become my way of promoting Mandarin.
Storytelling must use standard Mandarin. Nowadays, schools focus on Pinyin instruction, so pronunciation must be precise. I am invited to many schools to tell stories, and often to Malaysia and China—even once on a cruise ship along the Yangtze River.
It seems that children today are finding it increasingly difficult to learn Mandarin. What is your view on this phenomenon?
I believe Mandarin education is necessary. If children don’t speak Mandarin, the language will be lost. I observe that primary school children are still alright, but secondary school students hardly speak Mandarin anymore.
Many just study Chinese to pass exams—they have no interest in speaking it and cannot express complex ideas in Mandarin.
Among hosting, singing, acting, and teaching, which one is your favourite and why?
As for my favourite field—hosting, singing, acting, or teaching—I like them all. But as I age, I’ve grown to prefer teaching. I often host oldie events for the elderly in the past, telling the stories behind the songs.
We don’t just entertain on the surface—we speak with emotional resonance. Many seniors have told us, “You really speak to our hearts.”
Overseas, in places like China, many people are surprised by my language skills and think my pronunciation is more accurate than theirs. But this is the result of my continuous learning and progress. For me, it’s about doing what I believe is right.
Have you had any regrets in life?
I believe life is about experience—there’s no real regret. I am not vain, I don’t chase fame or profit. I just want to be genuine. Experiencing life doesn’t mean being passive—it’s about using your strengths. I know my worth, I don’t compete, and I don’t feel inferior.
As long as there are people who appreciate what I do, who want to hear me teach and feel they gain something from it, I’m content. My greatest hope is for good health so that I can continue teaching.
Tell us one lesson that you have learnt in life.
The greatest lesson I’ve learned in showbiz is responsibility. I won’t accept unsuitable performances, even if it means losing income. I’d rather pivot and pass on my experience in stage performance, culture, and literature. I also teach courses in hosting and idiomatic comic drawing, hoping the younger generation can improve their expressive abilities.
Although my hair is already white, I am still full of energy when performing, because I must connect with the audience and adapt to the social context. Now that Hua Liang is gone, I won’t perform the same double acts as before. Instead, I focus on teaching and cultural preservation.
