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

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

The business of acting is one of extremes. In China, as elsewhere in the world, actors face ruthless competition and, at times, near unbearable pressure. Of course, there are compensations: money and fame, for example, not to mention the sort of personal satisfaction that comes after giving a fine performance. In short, acting is far from dull. Little wonder then that Qingdao-born Xia Yu – devotee of skateboarding and other extreme sports – is so keen on his craft.

Indeed, Xia Yu thrives on challenge. At 29, he has already worked in a dozen films and several TV-series, with some of the best in the business: upcoming directors Dayyan Eng and Xiao Jiang; seasoned filmmakers, Daniel Lee and Peng Xiaolian; and acclaimed fellow actors, Edward Norton, Ge You, Ning Jing and Jiang Wen. Critics and peers alike attribute Xia’s success, in equal parts, to his love of film and his passion for study. A rare passion. After all, not many actors, after winning the 1994 Venice Film Festival Best Actor Award for In the Heat of the Sun (Jiang Wen, 1994), would think to return to school. But even with recognition from his peers, Xia enrolled at the Beijing Central Academy of Drama to improve his acting chops. And a good thing, too. There, he met another skilled actress, Yuan Quan, a Golden Rooster Award winner and Xia’s current girlfriend; Yuan, by the way, was a classmate of both Zhang Ziyi (Memoirs of a Geisha) and Liu Ye (The Promise).
In 2005, Xia co-starred with Yuan in the hip comedy hit Waiting Alone (Dayyan Eng). They also star in Shanghai Rumba, the latest film from Shanghai-based director Peng Xiaolian (Shanghai Story, 2005). One might say the couple has been typecast. Shanghai Rumba is a multi-layered film, set in 1940s Shanghai, which portrays a couple of actors in love, on and off stage, which, of course, echoes the two leads’ romantic involvement.
Xia’s performance in this film is extraordinary – even by his standards. And with this role, he displays acting chops on par with, or superior to, the Chinese mainland’s best actors: Jiang Wen, Ge You, and Chen Daoming.
We sat down with Xia, freshly returned from Switzerland – where he won a snowboarding competition – to discuss his new film, and much more besides.

that’s: You take roles in art-house and commercial films. What are your criteria for accepting a given role?
Xia Yu: I consider many factors. First, the script: is it impressive or not? Next, I think about the people I’ll be working with, the director and the crew. For Shanghai Rumba, I had advice from my girlfriend [Yuan Quan]. She had already worked with Peng Xiaolian [Once Upon A Time in Shanghai, 1998] and she told me Peng was a good director. In addition, I also saw one of her movies, Shanghai Story (2005), which really touched me. Besides, Shanghai Rumba is about Shanghai and Peng is Shanghainese, and she can tell a Shanghai story better than any other director.

that’s: In the film, your character, Ah Chuan, uses the Stanislavski acting method.
XY: Actually, there are several excellent film acting techniques, from around the world, that all originated in the theater: Konstantin Stanislavski from Russia, Bertolt Brecht from Germany and Mei Lan-Fang from China.
In university, I studied Stanislavski’s method; it’s very influential in China, and of course, in the US. Here though, we combine elements from Mei Lan-Fang’s method. In the period Shanghai Rumba [1940s] covers, both these methods were widely employed and considered the most important techniques in the world.

that’s: In Shanghai Rumba, you wear a moustache, which gives you a mysterious, cool look, something like Tony Leung Chiu-wai’s character in Wong Kar-wai’s 2046.
XY: The character in the movie-within-the-movie is supposed to be an underground communist. Hence, the fake moustache. Then later, he’s supposed to play a street vendor, so he dresses like one and goes to sell stuff on the street to get the feeling of a hawker. He truly follows the Stanislavski method.

that’s: Yuan Quan studied Peking Opera for seven years. What acting method does she employ?
XY: Every actor has his own preference. Today, we use a combination of techniques from Brecht and Stanislavski. But in the 1940s, actors preferred only the Stanislavski method. So in the movie, I have to portray an actor who just uses that [method]. As for Yuan Quan, I was impressed by the way she changed her voice pitch and body language to match the way prostitutes were portrayed in the 1930s/1940s movies. It seemed natural, not the result of a specific method.

that’s: To co-star with your real-life girlfriend is a good marketing coup for the film.
XY: For Shanghai Rumba, it was more like fate than a specific plan; it was a chance for us to act together. Yet the Chinese mass media only cared about our relationship and wrote stories about us. They didn’t really care about the movie. We’ve been together for nearly eight years. At the beginning, we really wanted to work together because we were both so busy and had little time together. Nowadays, that’s not so much of a concern.
Peng really wanted Yuan Quan to be the lead in this film, and initially, she didn’t think of me. Later, when she saw me – I don’t know why – she thought I was the right actor for the male lead. It was just fate.

that’s: Yuan has said that you are a creative actor. What creativity did you bring to Shanghai Rumba?
XY: I changed the script a bit as I found the first draft sounded a little bit too fake. I proposed amendments at the beginning and the end of the story to make the film a bit more realistic. In the beginning of the film, Ah Chuan and Wan Yu [Yuan] are supposed to be happy and in love in ‘real’ life, but it didn’t work for me. Here are these two kids: he’s very romantic, but his life is a mess; worse still, she’s married to a very stubborn husband. In the 1940s, it would have been very difficult for these two young people to find happiness.
So I asked for changes so that the love story happens within the film, and not in ‘real’ life. They kiss, but only during the shooting of a movie.

that’s: Director Peng said that the film is based on the life of actor Zhao Dan and his actress wife Huang Zongyin.
XY: Shanghai Rumba is not a mirror of Zhao’s life; it isn’t a Zhao biopic; it’s about more than just him. To prepare for the role, I watched a lot of movies from the 1940s, not only Zhao’s. I think my character is a mix of Zhao, and other actors of that period [Cai Chusheng, Shangguan Yunzhu and Wu Yin].

that’s: Compared to the 1940s, how is an actor’s life different today?
XY: Today the competition is ferocious, not just in China, but also from abroad. In the Chinese mainland market, we have films from all over Asia – Hong Kong, Japan, Korea, Taiwan Province, Singapore, Thailand and India – competing with domestic releases. In addition, a lot of actors from Korea, Japan and Hong Kong come to work in the Chinese mainland, which makes for tougher competition. It’s really a very competitive business now.

that’s: Some critics say that Hong Kong suffers from the ‘star syndrome’, which is to say that it boasts a number of big stars but no real actors. Was that your feeling while shooting Dragon Squad (Daniel Lee, 2005) in Hong Kong?
XY: I think they’re all real actors. It’s a cultural difference. In Hong Kong, the movie industry is much more entertainment driven. They produce a lot of commercial movies. You don’t see many mainland actors in that kind of action film. At the same time, in the Chinese mainland, you don’t find many Hong Kong actors who are suited to our more artistic movies.
I think real actors need real life experience. Acting comes from real life, but takes time to develop. In Hollywood, there are a lot of real actors. Before shooting a movie, they’ve time to rehearse and become the character they will portray. In the past, it was like that in China. But to give you an example, we had only one month to rehearse before shooting began on In the Heat of the Sun (1994). And in Hong Kong, a month would be a luxury; everything is just fast food. Most actors there work simultaneously on three or four movies. They don’t have time to rehearse, or to lead a life of their own. They lack sufficient ‘real’ life experience and that’s a problem. You need to experience ‘real’ life to be able to truly build a good character.
What’s more, you need talent, not just a pretty face.

SIDE BOX
Method masters

Konstantin Stanislavski (1863-1938) was associated with Russian dramatic realism. Stanislavski’s “method acting” is commonly used today. Its principle is: ‘the actor must live the life of the character.’ In Shanghai Rumba, Xia’s character Ah Chuan refers to this method.
Bertolt Brecht (1898-1956) was a German poet, playwright, and theatrical reformer. A prominent figure in the twentieth-century theater, his concept of ‘epic’ theater (narrative or non-dramatic) is still widely influential today.
Mei Lan-Fang (1894-1961) was a Chinese Opera star celebrated for his portrayal of ‘dan’ or female roles; he changed the standards of realism in the theater. His acting techniques are widely used by Chinese performers.
Zhao Dan (1915-1980), was the number one ‘people’s artist’ in the 1950s. He was held prisoner for five years during WWII, and then returned to Shanghai where he married actress Huang Zongying. In Shanghai Rumba, Ah Chuan’s background is partially based on that of Zhao Dan.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
Photo 1 courtesy Hugo Hu www.huphoto.cdd.cn and photo 2 courtesy Mick Ryan www.mickryan.com.
April 2006 issue

Suicide is no laughing matter, even when it occurs on April Fool’s Day. Indeed, when Hong Kong singer/actor Leslie Cheung Kwok-Wing leapt from the roof of Hong Kong’s posh landmark, the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, his fans were shocked. And devastated. That grim act was committed three years ago (April 1, 2003), and has not been forgotten. But sad to say, it has become the one fact of Leslie Cheung’s life that everyone knows.

- Photo by Thomas Podvin -

Which is a tragedy in itself. Cheung should be remembered for the innovations, and the dedication, he brought to his craft. He left behind a substantial body of work: sixty films including Happy Together, Temptress Moon and Farewell My Concubine, ninety albums and numerous live shows, some of which were recorded for posterity. His work on screen and on stage was both daring and deftly performed. Most critics agree that his role as a cross-dressing male opera singer in Farewell My Concubine was his greatest triumph. And that his performance was largely responsible for the film winning the Palme D’Or, and a spot in the top 100 Chinese Films of the Century at the Hong Kong Film Awards this March. In that role, Cheung mastered the art of playing a dan, or female, in just three months of study. Most actors need a lifetime to reach the level of skill the actor demonstrated, but Cheung achieved an expertise almost on par with legendary Peking Opera master Mei Lanfang.

Cheung’s contribution to the entertainment industry was also recognized by Red Mission, a Hong Kong-based fan association that organized “Closer to Leslie Cheung” this February. The exhibition, a commemoration of his life and work, was held in Shanghai, and sponsored by Tomson Film Company and ACT – a magazine financed by the Shanghai Film Group. Five thousand visitors attended the two day exhibition, which featured a display of film memorabilia, film screenings, behind the screen footage, a series of lectures with opera professionals, as well as taped interviews with the late actor and singer.

From the various offerings there emerged a common theme – Cheung’s dedication to his craft. “He placed greater demands on himself than the director did on him,” recalled Cheung’s co-star in Farewell My Concubine, Lei Han, who played his apprentice in the movie.

Lei is not alone in his sentiment. Cheung’s legacy – his joie de vivre, industriousness and creativity – has inspired a generation, and his spirit lives in the hearts of his disciples. On April 1, in Hong Kong – three years to the day of Cheung’s death – an international-fan association, the Leslie Legacy Association – will host a ceremony and candlelight vigil that will gather at the Jardine House podium, in front of the Mandarin Oriental. More than a thousand local and overseas fans are expected to attend the service and pay their respects to this Hong Kong icon.

Italian Nadia Guidetti, the Webmaster of Lesliepillow.com, and an LLA member, notes that Cheung “refreshed the content and the form of the entertainment scene … [yet] he had to pay for his uniqueness.” Which is to say that Cheung was ahead of his time.

In 2001, his Passion Tour concerts, featuring costumes designed by French fashion icon Jean-Paul Gaultier, were roundly criticized. Disappointed by the reaction, Gaultier stated he would never work for any Hong Kong star again. Cheung, too, was deeply wounded by the failure and fell into a prolonged depression.

One might say that Cheung’s quest for perfection was his Achilles’ heel. “He represents perfection in everything: [from] taste … [to his] attitudes towards work and people,” says LLA member Susanna Leung. In the end, his standards were not shared by the community at large. Cheung felt cornered and pushed to the edge. And made his fatal leap. But in doing so, he won a place in the pantheon.

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

This article was translated into Chinese in a Leslie Cheung fan forum

Following Shanghai Story, a subtle, semi-autobiographical, family drama set in post- “cultural revolution” Shanghai, local director Peng Xiaolian has changed course. Her latest film, Shanghai Rumba, is a multi-layered romance set in the late 1940s. The film is drenched in the cinema milieu. An unhappily-married young woman dreams of genuine love. Later, she joins a leftist film production company, where she meets Ah Chuan, a popular actor. Shanghai Rhumba was released on St. Valentine’s Day this year, a fitting date for this love story which features two real-life lovers in the cast: actors Xia Yu (Waiting Alone, 2004) and Yuan Quan (the stage play Amber, 2005). Peng exploits this element of reality in the film, including subtle references to the romance, on-screen and off. Adding yet another level to the plot, the film was inspired by a 70-year-old, legendary love affair between the ‘Prince of Film’ Zhao Dan (Crossroads, 1936) and actress Huang Zongying. If that’s not enough sentiment for you, Shanghai Rumba’s exquisite production values offer a gorgeous representation of the city as it was (or is remembered by romantics) in its ‘golden years’. With stunning cinematography, gorgeous costumes and old-fashioned music-score, this is one film that lovers anywhere can’t afford to miss.
Shanghai Film Studio

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April 2006 issue

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Guanzhou Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
April 2006 issue

This is a comprehensive, well-researched and accessible tome on Hong Kong cinema’s enfant terrible, Wong Kar-wai (In the Mood for Love). It could easily have been otherwise; Wong’s been in the business for 18 years, made eight feature films (As Tears Go; 2046), as well as several side projects; his career is full of contradictions and the author might have produced a book as impenetrable as the director himself. Thankfully, he hasn’t. This work provides some fascinating insights into Wong’s working methods and a clear and concise analysis of his contribution to cinema. Stephen Teo is a filmmaker, critic, and film historian; as such, his tone is authoritative and entertaining. The author sweeps aside the rumors and speculation that surrounds Wong’s career. For example, he reveals how the director’s notorious ‘shooting without script’ approach to filmmaking it is not all improvisational. He also examines the primary influences on Wong’s work: South American novelists for the plot structure, and impressionist painters for the visuals. For the record, during production, Wong actually shoots in the daytime and works on the script at night. Once you’ve read this book, you’ll view Wong’s oeuvre in a new light.
BFI/available at http://www.bfi.org.uk

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April 2006 issue

At 52, Jackie Chan or Cheng Long (Dragon Cheng) has appeared in more films, in Asia and the West, than any other ten actors combined. As such, he merits the box set treatment and CAV Warner’s magnificent, limited edition, collector’s box (only 3,000 copies), includes a dragon t-shirt and four Chan films from the 90s – a transitional period when the actor journeyed to the West and in the process, lost something of his style. Fortunately, one of the films here is the excellent Drunken Master 2 (1994), his last Hong Kong Kung Fu movie. Rumble in the Bronx (1996) is also impressive, but it failed to establish Chan in the American market. The big-budget Mr. Nice Guy (1997) was a more successful effort to place Chan squarely in the US mainstream. In a similar vein, the entertaining, but cheap, Hong Kong/Aussie Who Am I? (1998) was a failed attempt to make the dragon an international star, at least, a respected international star. Chan is known throughout the world, and he has many admirers. Still, his later works, for example, the foul and unfunny US flicks, Rush Hour or Shanghai Knights, are sad reminders of what could have been. Note that this set doesn’t offer English subtitles; no matter, you can wear the t-shirt.
CAV Warner

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March 2006 issue

For the past five years, Zhang Yimou has switched back and forth from action blockbusters with mass appeal to the more personal art-house film. His latest work falls in the latter category. Or does it? With a modest budget of RMB 56 million, this movie might best be described as an ‘art-house blockbuster’. It has been promoted and distributed like a blockbuster and has enough appeal to reach audiences across Asia and beyond. But at the same time, it’s the sort of work that will wow film-festival goers. The plot concerns a Japanese fisherman who travels thousands of miles to Yunnan province in search of a local opera performer who was supposed to sing for the fisherman’s terminally ill son. The story is an excuse to throw a taciturn Japanese guy - played by ‘Japanese Clint Eastwood’ Ken Takakura - into the Chinese countryside and see what happens. While the film has definite commercial potential (just ask the Yunnan tourism board), its also addresses father-son relationships and the culture gap in a thought-provoking manner. So is this hybrid a sign of what’s to come? Perhaps Zhang’s next flick, Autumn Remembrance, will be a ‘blockbuster art-house’ film.
Toho Company

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March 2006 issue

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March 2006 issue

Kung Fu movies aren’t famous for providing anything more than kicks, back flips and thrills, but Fearless breaks the mold; indeed, it is a movie with a message. Produced by and starring Jet Li, this film tells the true story of Tianjin-born Master Huo Yuanjia (1869-1910), the heroic founder of the Jing Wu Sports Federation. In Shanghai, in the first decade of the last century, Hou set out to prove the superiority of his (and China’s) martial arts. He challenged all comers and in doing so earned the respect of some of the most ruthless and brutal opponents ever to appear in the ring (the fight scenes are extraordinary, choreographed by Yuen Woo-ping [the Matrix]). But there’s more to this movie than action. Huo’s motto was: ‘Never give up’ – even when he lost a fight, he came out a winner. Li seconds the motion. Like Huo, he also founded an organization with a noble aim, the One Foundation which offers support to the suicidal. Its message: ‘Life is worth living’. And Fearless, both for its cinematic qualities and uplifting message, is worth seeing. Indeed, it is the best Kung Fu film we’ve seen in years.
Columbia Tristar Asia

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March 2006 issue

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March 2006 issue

In 2005, the Hong Kong international Film Festival paid tribute to actor/producer/singer Andy Lau Tak-wah (A World without Thieves) for his quantitative and qualitative participation in the film industry. This book, published in English and traditional Chinese covers Lau’s thirty years in the business. For those of you not familiar with Lau, he’s known as the Chinese James Dean – although he claims Marlon Brando as an early inspiration. Of course, Lau is alive and Dean and Brando are not, so Lau aged 44, has quite a few more film credits, 120, to be exact. This book includes an excellent in-depth interview with Lau, as well as film reviews and interesting, quirky essays on topics ranging from Lau’s ‘eagle eye’ acting style, to his hair-style and his position (he’s an idol) in the industry. Strangely, there’s not one word on the man’s long and successful musical career, or the film companies he formed to produce his own movies and promote the independent filmmaking scene, or his influence on cinema, or even his personal life. In short, the editor has narrowed his focus strictly to Lau’s acting.
HKIFF Society/available at http://www.hkiff.org.hk

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March 2006 issue

Recently, Chinese action movies have been breaking into overseas markets, opening doors with a powerful kick one might say. But far from being looked down upon as “niche films” or direct-to-video products, these Kung Fu flicks (Hero, Kung-Fu Hustle, Fearless) are vying for the top prize at all the prestigious film festivals, and winning lucrative international distribution deals.

True, way back in the early 1970s Bruce Lee had popularized sword scraping action and swift kicks to the groin, but in those days the films were not taken seriously; indeed, it has taken decades for this kind of cinematic language to enter the mainstream. But the chop-socky action picture has come of age with big budgets, Hollywood-style special effects and savvy marketing.
Take, for example, Dragon Tiger Gate (DTG), a co-production of three great Chinese studios – Hong-Kong Mandarin Films, Beijing Polybona Film and Shanghai Film Group. The film is an adaptation of the 1970s Hong Kong comic book of the same name written by Tony Wong Yuk-long. It features three upright brothers – played by Donnie Yen (S.P.L), Nicholas Tse (The Promise) and Shawn Yue (Initial D) – who fight organized crime and bring justice to Asia.
“This comic book talks a lot about righteousness … the main theme we’d like to bring to the audience,” says Hong Kong filmmaker Wilson Yip Wai-sun (S.P.L., 2005). The elements are hardly original – violence meets morality in a simplistic plot – but movie moguls have seldom gone broke by underestimating the audience’s intelligence.
Producer Raymond Wong, bills DTG as ”a big cinematic event in 2006”, and hopes the film will outperform an earlier, and rather similar, work, Seven Swords (which Wong produced in 2005). To be released this summer, DTG, like Seven Swords, has a big budget (RMB 80 million) and is chock-a-block with fighting scenes and special effects.

Indeed, the film might very well be just the sort of project Bruce Lee would trade his black belt for were he alive. It certainly carries on his tradition, including his weapon of choice, nunchakus, which is a handy instrument with which to beat righteousness into one’s opponent. Yes, this film is ultra-violent, but Yip claims the violence is not gratuitous. “As long as the motive behind [it] is to uphold righteousness, the action scenes in the film won’t be considered as violence,” he claims.
Perhaps. But when the nunchakus are flying who really cares?

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Chief editor: Steven Crane
March 2006 issue

Chen Kaige (Farewell My Concubine) is no longer a fifth-generation director; he’s become a maker of the blockbuster. Nothing wrong with that; The Promise (Wu Ji) is an exhilarating romp, with great care exercised in all departments. Photography, sets and costume design provide eye candy, while the SFX and action scenes will delight the most demanding audiences. Wu Ji’s a Chinese fantasy tale about a love triangle involving a slave, a general and a concubine, which gives moviegoers plenty to chew on for 128 minutes – about what you’d expect from the most expensive movie ever made in China (USD 42 million). The film reportedly broke the China opening weekend box office record pulling in USD 9 million (total earnings in China are expected to reach USD 25 million), which is good news for the marketing team. Premiere tickets were sold at an exorbitant (RMB 2,000), while ordinary tickets were 30 per cent dearer than usual – which is probably not the best way to fight piracy. Evidently designed for foreign audiences or the Chinese newly rich, The Promise doesn’t seem to fit the definition of cinema as “entertainment for the masses”.
China Film Group

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February 2006 issue

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February 2006 issue

A Chinese Tall Story contains all the necessary ingredients required for an amusing festive-season movie. The RMB100 million production provides some of the most eye-popping scenes ever seen in a Chinese film. But there’s also lighthearted comedy, eccentric characters, and a touching romance. The plot is thus: 500 years ago, a monk is looking for his three disciples; along the way he falls for a lizard imp and battles evil in the form of UFOs, a bizarre Buddha and assorted monsters. Ten years ago Hong Kong filmmaker Jeff Lau explored the legend of the Monkey King with two successful, hilarious movies starring the SAR’s number-one comedian Stephen Chow (Kung-Fu Hustle). Lau’s proven to be capable of delivering witty situations with a sense of anything goes. Yet this episode is less convincing for lack of a really talented comedy artist (Chow does not appear). Indeed, what’s most interesting is the eagerness of the various production companies to show off their prowess within the Chinese film industry. No question the movie is ambitious: it’s an over-the-top show piece, with an excessive number of visual effects, and nearly every actor signed by the Emperor Motion Group (a branch of Emperor Motion Pictures) makes an appearance.
Emperor Motion Pictures/H. Brothers

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February 2006 issue

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February 2006 issue

A pastiche of personal memories mixed with snapshots of China’s modern history, Zhang Yang’s Sunflower is in one sense a semi-autobiograhical account of his conflict with his father. At the same time, the story’s thirty-year time span, including the “cultural revolution”, serves as a document of social changes.

Zhang was born at roughly the same time (1967) as the film’s main character, Xiangyang, and shared his sense of rebellion. In the film, Xiangyang’s father, a former painter, hopes to recapture his lost glory through the talents of his son. Yet Xiangyang is reluctant to pick up a brush; so reluctant that he explodes a firecracker in his hands to disable himself. “[In some ways] that part [of the film] was full of my own memories,” says Zhang. “It is just like my childhood; I was not well-behaved and was often beaten by my father.”

Zhang’s father, Zhang Huaxun, was a filmmaker who in the 1970s made some of the first Kung Fu movies on the Chinese mainland. But unlike his screen alter ego, Zhang’s act of rebellion was to pursue his father’s profession. His parents wished him to become a doctor, but he chose his father’s métier. In 1992, Zhang completed his studies at the Beijing Central Drama Academy and later joined the Beijing Film Studio as a film director. Says Zhang, “When I got older I became more sensible, but I’ve always remained quite rebellious, relatively independent-minded.”

This spirit has served him well in his career. Zhang’s directorial debut was an independent production called Spicy Love Soup (1997) that became a domestic box office hit and a success with critics overseas. Sunflower has also received its fair share of accolades after appearances at several international film festivals.
So in the end, much like Xiangyang, Zhang eventually won the respect of his father and the two were reconciled. Says Zhang Yang: “My relationship with my father was difficult, and for me this film was a way of resolving that.”

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

Until recently, the risks and profits associated with producing big-screen animated films based on comic books have been left to the Americans (Sin City and Heavy Metal) and the Japanese (Ghost in the Shell, Akira).

Enter the Dragon. Last July, two Chinese companies formed a joint venture to produce The Clash of the Storm Riders, a big budget animated feature inspired by Hong Kong-based Ma Wing Sing’s comic book Storm Riders. Hong Kong-based Asia Animation will produce the film (which will hit theaters in the first quarter of 2007) and the Shanghai Media Group (SMG) will handle authorization procedures, marketing and distribution in China. With a budget of RMB 40 million and more than 200 animators from Shenzhen and Hong Kong, this will be China’s first real challenge to the dominance of the US and Japan productions. To paraphrase Asia Animation’s producer Tommy Tse, this film will provide a chance to do good business.

Indeed, the name Ma Wing Sing, or Ma Wing Shing, all but assures big returns at the box office. Ma is considered one of China’s most influential comic book artists and has almost single-handedly transformed the Chinese comic book industry. His groundbreaking works – Chinese Hero and Wind and Cloud – feature longhaired, muscular heroes, the sort that young males and females alike can admire. And Storm Riders has already been adapted into a successful TV-series and a live-action movie. “This bestseller represents an important part of the local culture,” comments the film’s award-winning director, Dante Lam Chiu-yin.

That said, the very popularity of the work has put a lot of pressure on the film’s creative team. Lam (Heat Team, 2004) says one of the biggest challenges is to preserve the comic book’s Chinese flavor. “We have to … stimulate and develop our local style and not follow the Hollywood and Japanese models.”

And then there’s the technical problem. This project is Lam’s first venture into animation – all his previous work has been on live-action films. With no actors to direct, Lam says the emphasis must be on character development. “I am going back to basics,” he says. “I will focus my attention on scriptwriting.” Lam hopes to translate his ideas using a variety of techniques from hand drawing to the latest animation technology. He’s even promised one “secret” animation technique, which the studio is guarding closely.

Though it may seem like a disadvantage, the idea of having a live-action film director was part of the plan. The producers hope to combine a live-action sensibility with a variety of animation techniques – in a sense creating a “new kind of animated film”. Clearly, in an animated film, the visuals are important. As such, Lam has hired a stunt director to bring a sense of realism to the martial arts action scenes.

But the real trick is to combine creativity, technology and commercial appeal. “It is not easy to be creative as well as to always please picky audiences,” says Chen Bin, a SMG producer. But as Ghost in the Shell proved, it can be done.

This article also features in the film-production company Asia Animation Ltd. website: http://www.asiaanimation.net/company/index9.asp

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