THOMAS PODVIN’S FREELANCE WORK
Freelance writer - translator - Editor

Confucius, also known as Zhong Ni, is one of the most famous thinkers of all time. Born approximately 2,500 years ago, he spent most of his life as a student and teacher, a teacher who imparted knowledge to everyone, regardless of their social status or origins. A disciple of Lao Zi, the founder of Taoism and one of China's most influential philosophers, Confucius' words were recorded in a number of classis texts (Spring and Autumn Annals). As well as being a fearless fighter and magnanimous politician, he mastered the 'six skills' comprising ritual, music, archery, driving, reading/writing and arithmetic, and devoted his life to restoring the Rites of Zhou in order to bring political guidance and peace to his homeland.
This graphic novel reveals insights into ancient Chinese society and details the various stages of Confucius life. Who said that comic books only entertain? This work proves that they are a source of profound thought as well.

Legend of the Laughing Buddha and Confucius, Life of the Great Humanist are distributed in China by CNPIEC (86-10-65082324; Irj@cnpiec.com.cn)

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
Book courtesy Asiapac Books
August 2005 issue

Westerners often struggle to grasp the complex concepts of Oriental religions and philosophies. Well, struggle no more. Singapore-based publisher Asiapac Books has produced a brilliant series of graphic books that put wisdom within the reach of even the least metaphysical reader. Take the Buddha, for instance, a world renowned figure associated with wisdom, magnanimity and rectitude. Legend of the Laughing Buddha reveals a new aspect of this deity, wherein the constantly smiling reincarnation of Maitreya carries a bulging sack over his shoulders, spreading happiness, abundance and contentment to all those he encounters. Of course, he still retains his pot belly, symbolizing joy, good fortune and generosity. Set in ancient China, this graphic novel is well written and of great help in understanding Buddhist thoughts. Readers of any age, and from any background, will delight in the illustrations and learn from the message so entertainingly presented here.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
Book courtesy Asiapac Books
August 2005 issue

So what's in a name? This band's moniker was borrowed from Haruki Murakami's novel Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World. But which version? Various translations of the book gave the band three choices: Cold Fairyland, Cool Fairyland and even Frozen Fairyland. At different times, they have used them all. "The name Cold Fairyland already carries a contradiction," explains singer/composer Lin Di, "and that's the feeling we want to deliver to the audience."
In Shanghai's relatively unsophisticated alternative music scene, Cold Fairyland, stands out. Arguably, the most original ensemble in the city, this quintet cultivates an image of ambiguity. In a recent gig at Creek Art's damp and dusty warehouse, the band offered a blend of guitars, drums, pipa and cello, accompanied by all-but-indecipherable vocals, that was impossible to pigeonhole.
"Typical Shanghai bands make posh fashionable music, but I think we bring a deeper meaning," Lin tells that's.
Formed in 2001, Cold Fairyland has just two unofficial releases to its credit: Flying and The Zoon of Stranger (only available on their website www.miyadudu.com). Composer, lead vocalist, pipa and keyboard player, Lin is the band's creative muse and the only band member that's doesn't have a day job. In addition to her work with Cold Fairyland, she's released two solo albums in Taiwan, Ten Days in Magic Land and Bride of Legendin. Both CDs offer her take on 'world music' and have yet to be released on the Chinese mainland.
On stage the band performs her solo works and their own music, but the studio versions of Lin's solo work bear little relation to the band's live renditions. In concert, the tone is darker, much darker. "We want to express despair rather than hope," says Lin. "When both coexist, hope comes second; it is a comfort from pain."
Cold Fairyland's unique brand of music is miles away from the Britpop often favored by local bands. But Lin is at a loss to describe her style. "It belongs to Chinese-folk music mixed with other elements—it's hard for me to identify. We never follow a pattern," she says.
While many musicians resist labeling, Cold Fairyland is one of the few groups who legitimately cross genres — from one song to the next, their style is never the same. On stage, in just one set, they go from jazz improvisation to world music —stunning the audience with their seamless transformations.
Currently, the band plans to release a collection of tracks from the first two CDs, and is working on a CD for release in the US. Meanwhile Lin is preparing for her third-solo release, a Stone Age throw back, so to speak, employing the percussive sounds of wood and stone. Says Lin, "It will be more experimental and less accessible."
Once these projects are wrapped, the only thing that's certain, is that nothing is certain. "We are considering performing only instrumental tracks in a near future," says Lin.

Cold Fairyland will play on Aug 14 at Ark Live House, 15 North Block Xintiandi, 180 Taicang Lu (6326 8008)

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
Photo courtesy Hugo Hu www.huphoto.cdd.cn
August 2005 issue

"Many young, talented actors in Hong-Kong can do three flips and give three kicks in a row," said Kung-fu star Jackie Chan at the 8th Shanghai International Film Festival (SIFF) in June. "I am very impressed, but none of the producers want to bet on them!"
A major player in the film industry over the past four decades, Chan is getting a bit old for back flips but he knows the film business intimately. When Chan talks, people listen. And one of his biggest concerns is that this new generation of Chinese actors and directors lack industry support, without which, he fears, Chinese cinema will find it difficult to compete in both domestic and international markets.
"Nurturing new generations of moviemakers and actors should become a priority of the industry," stresses Chan. He hopes to set an example with his company JCE Movies, and has produced several films such as House of Fury and Rice Rhapsody with young actors and emerging directors. Despite his efforts, he remains worried about China's film industry: "I really don't know what will be the next step," says Chan.
One thing is clear; the future of the industry is likely to involve compromise on both sides, creative and commercial. True, the Chinese mainland is pulling ahead of Hong Kong in film production; the former released 212 films compared to 63 in Hong-Kong. But the challenges are the same. New filmmakers are under tremendous pressure from investors, stars and the media to play it safe. Few investors are willing to back novice directors, and even when they do they frequently insist on controlling the shape of the film. What's more, the field has become extremely competitive, just as investors have cooled towards the industry. As a result, young filmmakers have become more and more timid — one mistake and they're out of the biz.
Take award-winning Hong Kong filmmaker and actress Barbara Wong (Wong Chunchun), for example. Wong spent nine long months building a network of connections to finance her first project — A Carburetor for Suzy – some of whom wanted to make significant changes to her script. Says Wong, "You need to persevere and to talk to many producers, but shouldn't be influenced by others' opinions." Unlike her early non-mainstream work featuring relatively unknown actors, Wong's latest movie Six Strong Guys, starring Ekin Cheng and Chapman To, was a modest success at the box office.
But hiring 'names' is something of a doubled-edged sword. Many investors are more interested in the cast, than the script. For Chinese mainland director Lu Chuan, filmmaking is a power struggle. The first battle is to convince investors the project is commercially sound; the second is to maintain authority with often pompous and petulant stars. "I don't feel comfortable with stars," says Lu, recalling his directorial debut, Missing Gun, starring Jiang Wen. "I will never use a star that ruins the direction of my movies."
The Xinjiang-born director's second film, Kekexili, with a cast of unknown mainland actors, won many awards for its poignant story and minimalist cinematography. Indeed, awards are near essential for young directors. "The media are so picky," says Lu. "If you don't get an award you're a nobody." But making films to please festival judges, is no guarantee of commercial success.
Lu's latest project, Bian Jiang, will be shot in Shanghai in Shanghainese, and concerns a local teacher who travels to Xingjiang to teach English. To increase the film's commercial potential, Lu agreed to the producer's request to cast big names – on one condition, that he maintains full control of the process.

Special thanks to the organizers of the 8th Shanghai International Film Festival.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
August 2005 issue