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

Perpetual Motion was promoted (and sold) as a Chinese version of Sex and the City. Though this reviewer looked in vain for any trace of sex, or city for that matter (a house serves as the sole location). False advertising aside, the plot is of interest: Niuniu is convinced that her husband has had an affair with one of her acquaintances; to discover the truth, she invites three of her girlfriends, each of whom is a suspect, to a Spring Festival celebration. Indeed, Director Ning Ying has devoted most of her effort to the narrative; Perpetual Motion is almost as devoid of production values as it is of sex. Admittedly, the point here is substance over style, but the film’s cheap look undermines its appeal, and the message. But what exactly, is the message? If Ning Ying’s aim was to present a new, feminist representation of women, she went astray; the film is more of series of sessions with a psychoanalyst: a sort of group-therapy where the main characters are neurotic, manipulative, haughty and pompous. The screenwriter hasn’t helped. Perpetual Motion is full of stereotypes – the very thing Ning is supposedly trying to fight against. Take this line, for example: “Americans aren’t romantic enough, while French are too romantic.” Ahem.
Beijing Happy Village

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
May 2006 issue

Though famous throughout the world for its macho Kung Fu flicks, Chinese cinema has yet to discover its feminine side. More often than not, female characters are mere prizes for the high-kicking champion to use as he sees fit. Sadly, three-dimensional female roles are few and far between. Recently, however, the subject of on-screen gender equality has received a kick in the pants.

Last month, the University of Hong Kong organized a symposium – The Film Scene: Cinema, the Arts, and Social Change – wherein local and overseas participants (visual artists, film and cultural studies academics) discussed gender in cinema, an issue that cuts across many interrelated fields.

According to Mirana M. Szeto, an assistant professor at the university and a co-organizer of the symposium, recent legislation has provided women with equal access to education, and, consequently, better career opportunities. That sentiment was seconded by Jason Ho Ka-Hang, a teaching assistant in the Department of Comparative Literature who claimed that female roles are gaining in importance.

As evidence, the members of the conference cited several films produced in the late nineties, in which the image of woman as simpering subordinate was replaced by a sexier, sassier image, a sort of Spice Girl. Examples include superstars like Sammi Cheng, Miriam Yeung, the Twins and Zhang Ziyi, who are said to symbolize the cosmopolitan, independent-minded, modern woman.

While it’s true that female roles have expanded in recent years, it is equally true that there’s still a long way to go before they are on a par with their male counterparts. Even Ho admitted that “roles like office ladies or silly teenage girls have little to do with issues of gender equality.”

Especially where it counts. Take SAR box-office queen Sammi Cheng, for example. Despite her box-office hits – Needing You and Love on a Diet – figures show she is far less bankable than Andy Lau. “I think this relates to the male-centric underpinning of the film industry,” said assistant professor Yau Ka-Fai. Szeto agreed: “The model for comparison is men.”

Nevertheless, some directors have recently adopted new models. Law Wing-cheung’s 2 Become 1, starring Miriam Yeung, tackles breast cancer, though the director’s approach is questionable. 2 Become 1 is a comedy, but to be fair, it doesn’t shy away from the issue. Indeed, the plot is one long health education lecture complete with instructions on self exams. Clearly, it is no easy task to make a film about breast cancer in a cinema culture traditionally dominated by males. While Yeung ostensibly plays the film’s central character, she receives strong support from Taiwanese star Richie Jen, who speaks to male and female audiences alike. Jen, a playboy cursed with erectile dysfunction (in the film), is the film’s role model, the caring lover. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome and rich to boot.

Which is to say that directors who dare broach women’s issues still have many obstacles to surmount. Perpetual Motion is a case in point. A low-budget film by feminist filmmaker Ning Ying, it portrays a group of middle-aged women, and does so without cosmetic pretense. Critics, mostly male, lambasted the film for its lack of glamour. As Szeto said: “The re-introduction of capitalism [to Chinese society] has encouraged the swift reappearance of sexism.”

Ironically, Ning and the distributors chose to promote her film by focusing not on its social merits, but as a vehicle for actress Hong Huang, and as a vehicle of revenge on her ex-husband Chen Kaige. The strategy backfired, provoking the wrath of Hong, and worse, it undermined the movie’s significance.

Meant to be a milestone, Perpetual Motion turned out to be more of a speed bump. While the Hong Kong symposium, in spite of much optimism, proved there’s a long road ahead.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
May 2006 issue

One day, not so very long ago, Hong Kong scriptwriter/director Edmond Pang Ho-cheung and actor Chapman To Man-chat were discussing bachelorhood. And they came to this conclusion: the life of a single man appears to be gay (in the old sense of the word) and carefree. But what if this playboy of the eastern world had fathered a child in the course of his philandering? And what if he were unaware of this fact?

“That’s the million-dollar question for any man who has reached 30,” says Pang. And the premise of his new film, Isabella, starring To as the unknowing father.

Pang and To share a similar sense of dead-pan humor, and a real love of cinema. In their native Hong Kong they’re infamous for their zany comedy films. Indeed, To has played the clown in countless movies, while Pang has directed, on average, one film a year since 1999. But last year, they combined forces, establishing Not Brothers Ltd. (NBL), a company formed to produce Isabella, as well as other projects. The idea behind NBL is to present audiences with something new – new for this pair at least – movies that offer more than guffaws. In short, Pang and To want to show their sensitive, dramatic side. Says Pang, “We’re very versatile, actually.”

As such, Isabella focuses on the serious side of the bachelor’s life. In the role of Shing, To plays it straight, as straight as possible given his character’s many one-night stands. However, one night, between engagements, so to speak, he meets Yan (the elfin Isabella Leung Lok-Si of the film’s title), who claims she’s his daughter.

Isabella, the film, is set on the eve of Macao’s return to the Chinese mainland (1999). It makes good use of the peninsula’s picturesque locations, and boasts a script that delivers equal parts drama, humor and nostalgia with nary a seam showing. The soundtrack, too, is a winner, literally; Isabella won the Best Music Award at the 2006 Berlin Film Festival.

Indeed, critics, both local and international, have been generous in their praise. As a result, the careers of both Pang and To have received a boost, with offers reportedly coming in from all quarters. Pang’s busy plotting his next ‘non-comedy’ projects, while To’s contemplating a future with no laughs. “[Since Berlin] no one has offered me any comedy roles,” jokes To. “I might be out of work permanently!”

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
May 2006 issue