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

Hong Kong-based director Stanley Kwan has seen the relationship between the Shanghai and Hong Kong film communities pass through three distinct phases: from indifferent to competitive and, of late, collaborative. "Throughout the last fifteen years, I experienced firsthand how Shanghai has changed," he says, adding that his interest in Shanghai, whatever the state of affairs, has never waned.

In one sense, Kwan's movies trace the industry's history and its relations. He was one of the first directors to shoot in the Chinese mainland with Center Stage (1991), a biopic of Shanghainese screen legend Ruan Lingyu. Says Kwan: "It was a real Hong-Kong movie shot in the Chinese mainland... though all the money came from Hong Kong." Nonetheless, the experience broke the ice, so to speak, and was a starting point for future cooperation.
After the 1997 handover, the Hong Kong film industry began to integrate itself into the Chinese mainland film industry, though the process was not always smooth. "Each side brings something," says Kwan. "The Chinese mainland provides the studios and beautiful locations; Hong-Kong supplies pop stars and money."
That said, Kwan has no problem holding up his end of the bargain. In his latest film, Everlasting Regret, based on a novel by Shanghainese author Wang Anyi, he cast two of Hong Kong's most bankable stars, Tony Leung Kar-fai and Sammi Cheng; Jackie Chan took the role of producer. Indeed, Kwan says that Shanghai Film Studios counted on him to attract big stars from Hong Kong and get some financial partners.

But the business continues to change and partners increasingly share in the investment and the risks. For Kwan's next project, a biographical film on the life of opera legend Mei Langfang, Chinese mainland investors, together with their counterparts from Hong Kong and the US, will contribute to the estimated RMB 80 million budget. This time Kwan will cast an even more bankable Tony: Leung Chiu-wai the star of In the Mood for Love.

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

Dragon Squad is the latest attempt to revive Hong Kong's golden age of action movies. Directed by Daniel Lee (Star Runner), this multi-layered film also typifies the current approach to filmmaking in the SAR, aimed at overcoming the industry's decade-long financial crisis. It works thus: assemble an international team and piece together a movie with the widest appeal possible. Dragon Squad was co-produced by America's favorite mullet-coifed limb-breaker Steven Segal, and features a cast of recognizable stars, including the lead, Heo Jun-ho (Silmido), and Michael Biehn (Terminator). Unfortunately, some of the less experienced cast members reveal a startling lack of acting skill. The plot follows a team of Interpol agents who enter into a game of cat and mouse with a gang of mercenaries. It's formulaic and viewers won't find any surprises. However, the main problem is the abundance of main characters (a dozen) and the uneasy shifts between butt-kicking and dramatic sequences. That said, the action is terrific, and these scenes benefit from expert editing and, more importantly, the spirit of traditional Chinese swordplay. In spite of its many flaws, then, Dragon Squad delivers on one level, that is if you appreciate a well-placed, swift kick to the groin.
Shankara/Visualizer Film Productions

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

Looking back - but not necessarily in anger - is currently the theme of choice in the art-house film scene. Take Wang Xiaoshuai's Shanghai Dreams or Peng Xiaolian's Shanghai Story for instance. Both films concern the impact of the past on the present – especially that most troubled of decades from the mid-1960s to mid-1970s. In Sunflower, Beijing-based director Zhang Yang looks back (for 130 minutes) at a family in his home town. The story centers on Xiangyang, whose father, a painter, is sent to the countryside in 1969. When he returns seven years later, Xiangyang doesn't recognize him, or his parental authority. Yet slowly the father regains his influence and eventually leads his son to a successful painting career in the late 1990s. Zhang injects a personal note in the father-and-son conflict; his own father, Zhang Huaxun, was a successful filmmaker from the 1970s. As a result, this is personal filmmaking at its best, providing thoughtful analysis and psychological insight.This RMB 12 million film is one with which audiences can identify; the father-son relationship parallels the transformation of society as a whole, as evidenced in the radical shift from the traditional siheyuan to modern multi-story buildings. Still, the underlying sense of nostalgia is balanced by hope for the future.
Fortissimo Films/Ming Productions

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

What is love? Hong-Kong filmmaker Peter Chan addresses this simple, yet unsolvable question, in his first directorial effort since 1996. Of course, the question gets complicated when you have a USD 10 million budget and an international cast and crew. The plot is thus: Ten years ago, Lin (Taiwan heartthrob Takeshi Kaneshiro) and Sun (Chinese mainland actress Zhou Xun) were a couple living in Beijing. They split and went their separate ways. Fast forward to the present when they meet in Shanghai on the set of a musical. Lin tries to win Sun's love back, but she's romantically involved with the musical’s director, Nie Wen (Hong Kong's 'God of Song' Jackie Cheung). For a love-triangle, this sounds rather complex, at least on paper. But Chan has transferred the somewhat convoluted plot to the screen in a very straightforward fashion, and in the process raises an interesting question: What is the nature of reality and fiction? Produced by Andre Morgan (Million Dollar Baby), Perhaps Love is certain to seduce audiences and critics alike. Indeed, the film has already pocketed the Best Foreign Film award at the Queens Film Festival in New York, and many more awards are expected. So what is Love about? Guess we'll never know.
Applause Pictures

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

Guanzhou Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
January 2006 issue

At the risk of going out on a limb without a safety net, A Chinese Tall Story is the perfect family entertainment for the New Year holiday. An hilarious, feel-good movie full of lighthearted drama and gut-busting sight gags. More fun, in short, than a barrel of monkeys. To make a tall story short, a long time ago, even before Star Wars, a monk fell in love with a monster and an alien princess. Reduced to twenty-five words or less it doesn't sound like much. But the movie is as impertinent and comical as its director, Hong Kong-born Jeff Lau Chun-wai.
Lau is a playful man, with a permanent smile and ready with the jokes. He's in his fifties, but a child at heart. Much like the Monkey King, one of the characters in this three episode saga, inspired by the Chinese classic, Journey to the West. However, in the latest installment, Lau departs from the source material and delivers a surprisingly modern tale full of witty ideas, colorful characters and dazzling visuals.

In the business for more than two decades, Lau's been involved in the production of more than thirty films. He's often associated with Wong Kar-wai (2046); indeed, they are best friends, since they co-funded and co-founded the Jet Tone film company in 1993, a project that was set up to produce both art-house and commercial films (Eagles Shooting Heroes, 1993; Ashes Of Times, 1994; A Chinese Odyssey 2002, 2002). Which is not to say that they think alike. Wong's preference is for realist cinema. Lau, on the other hand, is fascinated by the magic of a medium in which the impossible becomes possible. Thus, Lau's stock-in-trade is the nonsensical, cartoon-ish sight gag. Indeed, Lau spearheaded Hong Kong's special brand of humor, moleitau (literally 'nonsensical'), and in the process made a name for himself as a sort of Chinese Tex Avery (creator of Daffy Duck, Droopy and Screwy Squirrel).
He's also made another of his best friends, Stephen Chow Sing-chi, a superstar with a string of unforgettable comedies: All for the Winner (1990); Out of the Dark (1995); and A Chinese Odyssey Part 1 and 2 (1995) to name but a few. If Chow's now known as the 'King of Cantonese comedy', the title, in large part, is due to Lau.

Which brings us back to the Monkey King saga, more familiarly known as Journey to the West a work that has no equivalent in Western literature. Ten years ago, Lau wrote a three-chapter screenplay based on the classic sixteenth-century novel written by Wu Cheng-en. (Wu, in turn, was inspired by a real monk, Xuan Zang, who lived during the Tang Dynasty.) Two of Lau's chapters were shot in a row – A Chinese Odyssey: Pandora's Box and A Chinese Odyssey II: Cinderella – with Stephen Chow playing the Monkey King. "We made only two films considering the bad box office at the time," recalls Lau, adding that the period movies were, perhaps, too avant-garde as such. "No one dared invest in a third installment."
Of course, what is avant-garde one year, becomes classic the next, or the next. Two years after their release, the films developed a following – on video. A very large following. Today, both films are considered masterpieces. And their acceptance provided both Lau and Chow with an opportunity to display their full potential.
In the latter's case as a comedian and a thespian. Chow's character, Monkey King or Sun Wukong, is half-human/half-monkey. Born from a rock, he lacks manners and discipline; he's mischievous, yet pure of heart. Brave, too – he frequently challenges gods and monsters alike. It's these qualities that make the cheeky Sun Wukong the best-loved folk character in China. Such is his popularity that disobedient children are often (affectionately) said to be 'As naughty as Sun Wukong'.
For those unacquainted with the novel, the 100-chapter Journey to the West is an adventure tale, albeit one filled with humor. It relates the journey of the monk Tripitaka as he travels to India in search of enlightenment and with the purpose of bringing the Buddha's Holy Scriptures to China. Tripitaka, escorted by animal spirits, the Monkey King, the pig monk (Zhu Bajie) and the river/sand monk (Sha Wujing), finds himself in danger any number of times; 81, to be exact.
For those of you unacquainted with Chinese TV and cinema, Journey to the West has been adapted almost as many times as Tripitaka broke a sweat on his journey. Still, this rich source material allowed Lau plenty of room for innovation, especially in this third episode.

A Chinese Tall Story, budgeted at RMB100 million, is a prequel of sorts, focusing on Tripitaka prior to his famous journey. Lau has also added some bizarre new elements and goofy characters. During the production of Kung Fu Hustle for Stephen Chow in 2003, Lau discovered that the Chinese mainland film industry had mastered the art of computer generated imagery – which was not the case in 1995 – and was confident that they could put his ideas on film. That confidence extended to the decade-old script, which he submitted to the producers at Hong Kong-based film company Emperor Motion Pictures (EMP). "The audience," he declared to his new employers, "is now more receptive to change."
But after reading the script, they weren't so sure. For one thing, Lau updated Journey to the West, including a scene featuring UFOs. "When they found out there were flying saucers in the script, they came to check the rushes everyday!" he says with a laugh.
Indeed, Lau's unconventional sense of humor, his blending of parody and slapstick, might well offend the average banker. Though the film's dramatic scenes, that seamlessly combine fantasy and CGI effects, would have that same banker counting the box office receipts. As for the UFOs, Lau says they weren't meant to introduce an element of science fiction, rather the intent is to challenge the Chinese superstition that sky-dwelling gods control the universe. "Once aliens are there, gods stands no chance with their kung fu," says Lau. "Aliens have scanners and guns; they're so powerful!" Well, you can't argue with that.

Lau may not be serious about aliens, but he's on firm ground, after ten years thinking about it, with his casting. Tripitaka, the leading character of the film, is played by Hong Kong pop idol Nicholas Tse Ting-fong (The Promise, 2005). In the book, the monk is an honorable, decent man. The same cannot be said for Tse, at least not if you believe what's written about him in the Chinese tabloids. "If I can make the audience believe a not very decent young man can play a decent monk, then the character will be even more powerful," says Lau of his casting strategy, adding that, "It's a huge challenge!" Lau had to be firm with Tse: "I didn't let him do his look à la James Dean," explains Lau. "I didn't want him to be seen as a hero."
The supporting players are equally powerful, and cast against type, which is to say different from the characters in the novel. In the film, the three animal spirits are: Xin Wukong (Monkey King), who constantly makes a fool of himself; Se Bajie, a handsome, obedient and innocent version of the Pig, a fallen deity punished for his uncontrolled libido; and Men Shaseng, the sand monk, who hides his naivety behind a mustache. (Without giving too much away, two young girls trap the inept monk in a love triangle.) Then there's the beautiful Princess Xiaoshan from outer space, portrayed by Chinese mainland actress Fan Bingbing (Twins Effect 2, 2004), and the young lizard imp Meyan, played by Hong Kong singer/actress Charlene Choi (All About Love, 2005). The latter, by the way, falls in love with Tripitaka, though that stretches belief. Lau sadistically forced the pop starlet to wear make-up that makes her a match for Quasimodo; her teeth are the stuff of a dentist's nightmare.

Less repellant, though equally stunning, the film's visuals are the result of big budget, solid CGI, several months of post-production and experienced artists at the head of every department (action director Corey Yuen, art designer William Chang and visual-effect master Eddy Wong). Indeed, we'll go further: this film's SFX make the Lord of the Rings look as cheap as Ed Wood's Plan 9 from Outer Space. The action scenes, especially those set in outer space, are brilliantly staged and reminiscent of Tsui Hark’s best work in the Legend of Zu, Stars Wars and even a few Japanese animation movies involving giant robots (Macross). If trivia interests you, some of the earth scenes were shot on location at Shennongjia, a gorgeous Chinese national reserve in Hubei province.

In sum, Lau has raised the bar, and brought new life to the tale of Sun Wukong. But best to let the man speak for himself: "When I make a movie, I first think of myself and how I can have fun out of it." Which sounds like a quote from the Monkey King himself. In fact, Lau is an endangered species, one of the few directors who doesn't live for box office receipts and one of few people in show business who hasn't always got an eye on the next project. A good family man, Lau is jovial and cunning, upright and subversive. Who knows, perhaps one day mothers will be saying to their mischievous children, 'You're as naughty as Lau Chun-wai!'

Special Thanks to EMP/H. Brothers Film/David Vivier/HKCinemagic.com

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

Il y a quelque chose de magique qui émane de Seven Swords (Qi Jian), et ce ne sont pas seulement les huit millions de yuans (soit environ six millions d’euros) que le film a engrangé lors des deux premières semaines d’exploitation en Chine populaire – malgré une terrible tempête sur la côte Est de la Chine qui aurait du inciter les gens à rester chez eux. Seven Swords prend sa source dans la tradition du wuxia (« chevalerie chinoise »), « la littérature wuxia est à la fois un art et une culture » comme l’explique le realisateur hongkongais Tsui Hark. « Ce sont des histoires imaginaires développées à partir de nos vies quotidiennes ; elles expriment l'esprit de justice, l'héroïsme et l'humanité ». Les romans de wuxia sont le fruit d'un héritage culturel profond et sont pour la plupart des histoires, se déroulant dans la Chine Ancienne, où les chevaliers évoluent dans le monde des arts martiaux, ou « Jiang Hu ». Le wuxia pian est le genre filmique dérivé de cette littérature fabuleuse (les films de kungfu appartiennent à cette catégorie). Dans ces histoires regorgeant d'action, les personnages pratiquent le kungfu et possèdent toutes sortes de pouvoirs magiques – comme se déplacer en volant sur la cime des arbres et réaliser des acrobaties qui feraient pâlir d'envie des Van Damme, Schwarzenegger et autres Stallones. Tigre et Dragon (Ang Lee, 2000) nous en avait déjà donné un aperçu. Une infinité de personnages, des intrigues croisées et complexes s'offrent au spectateur lorsque tout ce petit monde repose les pieds sur terre. La dernière production de celui que l'on appelle « le Spielberg hongkongais », Tsui Hark, tente de séduire le public chinois en lui offrant l'essence ultime du wuxia sur grand écran.

Né au Vietnam, Tsui Hark est dans le métier depuis plus de 25 ans. Il nous a livré quelques uns des meilleurs films de wuxia jamais réalisés en Chine continentale ou à Hong Kong. Formé aux méthodes hollywoodiennes de réalisation, il est toujours à la recherche de nouvelles idées qu'il expérimente afin d'explorer l'héritage culturel chinois et de l'exposer aux nouvelles générations de spectateurs.
Tsui Hark a débuté sa carrière à la fin des années 70 en réalisant la célèbre série télévisée de wuxia The Gold Dagger Romance, son premier tournage officiel, bien qu'il réalisait déjà à l'âge de 13 ans des films expérimentaux en 8 mm. En 1981, il rencontre la reconnaissance internationale avec Zu, Les Guerriers de la montagne magique, un récit d'arts martiaux défiant les lois de l'apesanteur. Malgré la première utilisation des techniques hollywoodiennes d'effets spéciaux (blue screen) dans un film hongkongais, Zu est un flop au box office local. Le film devient culte à travers le monde par l’intermédiaire de la VHS.
Depuis, avec plus de 60 films produits, dont 40 réalisés, Tsui a essayé de trouver le juste milieu entre expérimentation, ambition et succès commercial au sein de sa propre compagnie, la Film Workshop. Il a co-fondé la Film Workshop en 1984 avec sa femme Nansun Shi, une des productrices les plus respectées de Hong Kong. Dans ce laboratoire d'expérimentation cinématographique, ils se sont attachés à faire revivre toutes sortes de genres. « Nous pensons que l'héritage chinois a beaucoup à offrir » affirme Nansun. « Nous essayons de trouver les histoires qui pourraient avoir du succès à la fois sur le marché international et sur le marché local. »

Tsui a rendu hommage au folklore et à l'art chinois, non seulement en faisant revivre le film en costumes et le wuxia dans les années 1980 et 1990, mais aussi en franchissant de nouvelles limites. Les trilogies, A Chinese Ghost Story et Swordsman, le film The Lovers font partie de ses oeuvres les plus exceptionnelles et populaires. Ce qui montre qu'aussi iconoclaste, original et expérimental qu'il soit, ce réalisateur de 55 ans n'en a pas moins réussi à produire une série de succès commerciaux. Donc il ne s’agit nullement d’exagérer en affirmant que Tsui Hark a nourri l'industrie hongkongaise du film de 1986 à 1996 avec des idées novatrices, de nouvelles formules et genres filmiques. Les producteurs de Hong Kong ne s'y sont pas trompés, ils ont copié ses films et son style maintes fois. Ils ont inondé le marché avec près de 200 films par an en faisant de l'argent facile. D'un point de vue optimiste, ils ont aussi permis à de nouveaux réalisateurs et acteurs d'émerger et de transformer les modèles en genres populaires. Tous ces films étaient destinés au marché hongkongais ; Taiwan et la Corée faisant office de marchés secondaires. Or, aujourd'hui, il est devenu irréaliste, voire suicidaire, de faire recette en ne visant que le marché local.

Tsui Hark va découvrir cette dure réalité à ses dépends. Au milieu des années 1990, l'industrie du cinéma asiatique va mal, elle doit faire face à la crise financière qui sévit en Asie, à la montée en puissance du piratage, à la compétition des films hollywoodiens et de Chine continentale, et à l'exode de ses cerveaux vers l'occident. L'industrie cinématographique va alors décliner pendant presque dix ans. Il en est de même pour la production de la Film Workshop qui, de cinq films produits par an entre 1986 et 1994, passera à un film par an à partir de 1998.

Après un court séjour aux USA vers 1997 (séjour pendant lequel il va constater que la politique de studios hollywoodiens est trop restrictive à son goût), et plusieurs tentatives à Hong-Kong avec des fonds étrangers, Tsui Hark finit par produire en Chine quelques films discrets qui ne rencontrent pas de succès. Mais ils semblent être une tentative d'évaluation du marché local et des méthodes de production chinoises. A l'évidence cette expérience a certainement balisé le terrain pour son futur projet. « On ne devrait pas se limiter seulement à un certain lieu quand on fait des films, ce serait mieux d'aller dans divers endroits pour travailler, » a expliqué Tsui Hark pendant la conférence de presse de Seven Swords qui s’est tenue à Shanghai en juillet 2005. « Travailler de cette manière est mon rêve, et comme la majorité des spectateurs se trouve en Chine je dois essayer de donner le meilleur de moi-même».

Et c'est ce qu'il a fait. Le wuxia pian Seven Swords, est l’opportunité parfaite pour revenir sous les projecteurs, et renforcer sa renommée et sa bankabilité sur le marché chinois. Avec une intrigue simple - sept guerriers se réunissent afin de protéger un village contre un général démoniaque - mais beaucoup d'attention portée aux personnages et à la production, le film a concrétisé les projets très ambitieux de Tsui. Trois équipes, trois chorégraphes et trois directeurs de la photographie ont filmé, nuit et jour, onze personnages principaux afin d'achever cette co-production Chine/HongKong/Corée/Singapour de 15 millions d’euros.

A l'origine, une importante compagnie de télévision chinoise avait approché Tsui Hark en qualité de consultant créatif pour une série télévisée basée sur un classique de la littérature chinoise, le roman de Liang Yu-sheng, « Seven Swordsmen from Mountain Tian ». Connaissant l'ouvrage sur le bout des doigts et conscient de son potentiel cinématographique, Tsui a réussi à étendre sa collaboration à la production d’une série de longs métrages et séries télévisées qui seront tournées avec des équipes hongkongaises et un casting chinois. En effet, Tsui Hark et Nansun Shi, sa femme et partenaire, pensent qu'une coopération bilatérale est le meilleur moyen de réanimer le cinéma hongkongais. Nansun, productrice de Seven Sword, a évolué dans l'industrie du cinéma depuis trois décennies. Elle explique : «Nous sommes ceux qui pouvons sauver le cinéma de HongKong, si nous n'essayons pas, qui le fera ? ». Extrêmement motivé et enthousiasmé par le projet, Tsui abandonna la production d' Initial D , alors qu'il avait déjà commencé le travail de pré-production et repérage au Japon. Le film fut finalement réalisé par Andrew Lau et Alan Mak (Infernal Affairs), qui livrèrent un produit assez fade, calibré pour la pop idole taiwanaise Jay Chou.

"les films de kung fu deviennent de plus en plus abstraits... il était temps de ramener le genre à la réalité"

Seven Swords est aussi la tentative de Tsui de réconcilier le public chinois avec le monde des arts martiaux. Depuis Ang Lee et son Tigre et dragon, qui explosa sur tous les écrans en 2000, un grand nombre de wuxia pian esthétiques ont été réalisés afin de satisfaire aux goûts des spectateurs occidentaux. Le public chinois, un peu plus circumspect, a alors pensé que le vrai esprit du wuxia avait été trahi et affadi pour l’exportation. « Aujourd'hui les films de kung fu deviennent de plus en plus abstraits, si abstraits que j'ai senti qu'il était temps de ramener le genre à la réalité », explique Tsui Hark.

Avec Seven Swords, Tsui a trouvé un moyen d'expérimenter et de faire de l‘argent. Ironie du sort, il le fait à la manière hollywoodienne, à la Matrix avec ses produits dérivés. Seven Swords deviendra une série de long métrages, une série télévisée, des jeux vidéo et des BD. Les figurines Seven Swords ne sont pas loin derrière… Bien qu'une pléthore de personnages et de nombreuses sous-intrigues soient des caractéristiques du monde du wuxia pian, la complexité de l'histoire est ici autant à imputer au récit qu'à des raisons financières. Tsui explique : « les indices laissés dans ce premier film sont nécessaires et directement liés à la suite ». Ceci aide à comprendre pourquoi beaucoup de critiques et de spectateurs sont sortis perplexes de la projection du film. Pour lever la confusion, Tsui, tout comme Georges Lucas avec Star Wars, a écrit la bible de Seven Swords, détaillant le développement des personnages et le monde dans lequel ils évoluent. « La société est composée de nombreux êtres humains, il en est de même pour le Jiang Hu », dit-il. « Je veux juste rendre Seven Swords proche de la vie réelle et provoquer l‘émotion».

Seven Swords n'est pas parfait, mais c'est une réussite pour son créateur; le film lui a permis de retrouver une crédibilité financière. Suite à ce succès, Tsui cumule les nouveaux projets. Dans un futur proche, il produira un film co-financé par la France, The White Phoenix, et une comédie Kung Fu avec Stephen Chow (Crazy Kung Fu) en vedette. Il semblerait que Tsui Hark va continuer à jouer son rôle d'ambassadeur cinématographique de la culture chinoise pour de nombreuses années à venir.
Que la force soit avec lui.

Remerciements à Film Workshop / Mandarin Films / Mme Nansun Shi / M. Gu Ming.

Article publié en anglais dans that’s Shanghai magazine, Octobre 2005.
Version française publiée sur HKCinemagic.com, octobre 2005.
Photos Film Workshop /Mandarin Films /Beijing Ciwen Film /Boram Entertainment.
1728 mots.

"When your city is no longer your city, history can turn the right man to the wrong choice." With its opening sentence, Everlasting Regret hooks the viewer and for the next 115 minutes never lets go. And what a history it is, though the quote is misleading. This is a woman's tale set in Shanghai over a 40 year period, a period of marvelous historical change. Hong-Kong singer/actress Sammi Cheng plays Wang Qiyao, in her best role to date, taking her from a young beauty-pageant winner in the glamorous 1940s to her days as a simple housewife and mother in the post-Mao area. Released in the Chinese mainland as To Live, To Love, the film is based on Wang Anyi's Changhen Ge, an influential, award-winning novel written in the 1990s. Both the movie and the book shine with nostalgia. In the film the city's past is wonderfully recreated by Hong-Kong director Stanley Kwan and production designer William Chang (in large part responsible for the beauty in films by Wong Kar-wai). Everlasting Regret is influenced by both Wong's In the Mood for Love and Zhang Yimou's To Live, but in the end it is a work that stands on its own, an exquisite and bitter tale of a woman, that like Shanghai itself, is like no other.
Shanghai Film Studios

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

It's been 100 years since China's first film, The Battle of Dingjunshan, essentially a recording of a Chinese opera performance, appeared on the silver screen. In the decades since, the medium has had its share of difficult times, but there is much to celebrate. Tributes have been extensively organized in China and the rest of the world; the 62nd Venice International Film Festival, for instance, opened and closed with contemporary Chinese movies and featured a retrospective of classic Chinese films. And in October this year, the City University of New York organized an international symposium and a retrospective of more than 30 Chinese movies. Professor Ying Zhu, who teaches cinema studies in New York, coordinated the event. The Shanghai-born expatriate, author of Chinese Cinema during the Era of Reform, offered that's a short history of Chinese cinema.

that's: How would you describe the evolution of Chinese cinema?
Ying Zhu: Tumultuous, yet inspiring.

that's: What are the most important periods in Chinese film history?
YZ: Chinese films are divided into six generations. The first generation was the pioneers of Chinese cinema, such as Zhang Shichuan (Burning of the Red Lotus Temple, 1928) and Zheng Zhenqiu (Orphan Rescues Grandfather, 1923). The second generation includes 1930s/1940s left-wing filmmakers who cultivated a realist tradition blending Classical Hollywood with the tradition of Chinese performing arts (Wu Yonggang's Goddess, 1934). The third generation consists of both the second-generation disciples such as Xie Jin (Two Stage Sisters, 1964) and the self-taught left-wing filmmakers of the 1940s.
The fourth generation was the first generation of professional filmmakers, including Wu Yigong­ (My Memories of Old Beijing, 1983). They received formal film training in the late 1950s, early 1960s, under the socialist educational system. The fifth refers specifically to the 1982 graduating class of the Beijing Film Academy and includes Chen Kaige and Zhang Yimou; famous for making experimental art films in the early to mid-1980s, they challenged the socialist-realist tradition. Finally, the sixth generation is a group of internationally-known young filmmakers from urban centers who appeared during the post-Mao era (Jia Zhangke with Platform, 2000).

that's: How would you describe the Golden Age?
YZ:Historically, there were two 'Golden Ages', the pre-war 1930s and the post-war 1940s. In the pre-war phase, the emergence of the leftist Lianhua Company revived national cinema and successfully pushed for the industry's early institutional restructuring. Leftist films achieved an astonishing critical and popular success with many classic movies (Street Angel and Crossroads). The post-war phase (1946-9) witnessed an output of films of artistic quality and popular appeal despite ideological divisions (Long Live the Mistress and Crows and Sparrows).

that's: And more recently?
YZ:The arrival of Chinese cinema's Art Wave/New Wave in the early to mid-1980s is certainly a "Golden Age" with the Chinese fifth generation films creating critical splashes all over the world. From the mid-1980s until the early 2000s, the Chinese film industry entered a recession. Several factors contributed to this downturn, including privatization of film infrastructure and competition with cable TV, video and Hollywood films.
However in 2004, for the first time in decades, China produced more than 200 movies and the total industry revenue increased by 66 per cent to nearly USD 435 million. Domestic film production, distribution and exhibition fields benefiting from new government regulations have permitted private and overseas investment in the cash-starved industry. Most significantly, domestic Chinese film receipts exceeded those from foreign films for the first time since 1994. Feng Xiaogang's A World Without Thieves and Stephen Chow's Kung-Fu Hustle earned handsome profits. Despite relatively small film output and rampant piracy, Chinese cinema looks to be at the dawn of yet another Golden Age.

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

Cent ans après sa création, le cinéma chinois tire son épingle du jeu

Cette année, le cinéma chinois a fêté son centième anniversaire. L’industrie cinématographique a connu des hauts et des bas au cours de son siècle d’existence. Des bas avec l’invasion japonaise dans les années 1940 qui a considérablement diminué le nombre de productions, ou la « révolution culturelle » dans les année 1960-1970 pendant lesquelles bon nombre de studios étaient en « pause ».

Après cette période tumultueuse pour le septième art, l’Académie Cinématographique de Pékin a ré-ouvert ses portes en 1978 accueillant des étudiants pour la première fois depuis 10 ans. Et quels étudiants ! On compte parmi eux Zhang Yimou et Chen Kaige. Cette promotion est aujourd’hui connue comme la « cinquième génération ».

Ce sont ces réalisateurs qui dans les années 90 ont permis au cinéma chinois de traverser les frontières et de recevoir les récompenses les plus illustres. On pense à ces premiers films montrés à l’Ouest, Adieu, ma concubine de Chen Kaige qui reçu la palme d’or en 1993 à Cannes, ou Épouses et concubines de Zhang Yimou auréolé par la critique internationale.

Cette dernière décennie a en effet était favorable au cinéma chinois et à ses réalisateurs. Sa créativité et réactivité ont attiré bon nombre d’investisseurs d’Asie et d’occident. Ce qui a permis de produire de meilleurs films, plus internationaux et donc de séduire un nombre plus large de spectateurs.

Si les films de Chine continentale sont particulièrement appréciés pour leur peinture judicieuse de la société chinoise, ceux de Hong-Kong attirent le spectateur grâce aux arts martiaux et scènes d’action spectaculaires. Ces films étaient auparavant distribuées dans un nombre de salle restreint, principalement dans les Chinatown, et n’ont jamais réellement atteint une distribution grand public.

La vitalité du cinéma de HongKong a cependant montré des signes d’essoufflement dans les années 1990, et notamment suite à la rétrocession de l’île à la Chine en 1997. Ce qui est surprenant de constater est que cette diminution de la productivité (de 200 films/ans à environ 60 films/an) a eu un impact positif et conséquent sur les relations entre les trois principaux centres cinématographiques, Shanghai, Pékin et Hong-Kong.

On a commencé à s’unir pour produire des films bénéficiant l’industrie entière, avec une qualité hollywoodienne comme Kung-Fu Hustle de Stephen Chow ou Seven Swords de Tsui Hark.

Ce dynamisme n’est évidemment pas resté sans réponse à l’Ouest et Hollywood a tenté de recruter des acteurs, réalisateurs et techniciens confirmés pour des projets américains. Michelle Yeoh et Zhang Ziyi ont terminé Memoirs of a Geisha à Los Angeles, Gong Li travaille sur une séquelle du Silence des agneaux appelé Lector Variation.

Ce succès et cette qualité de production croissante ont aussi donné suite à des co-productions Est/Ouest et autres deals de distribution avec Columbia Tristar-Asia ou Miramax. En 2000, Ang Lee réalise son Tigre et Dragon, révélant au monde, et avec succès, le premier film de sabre chinois (wuxiapian) « internationale ». Zhang Yimou suivra plus tard avec Hero, puis Le Secret des poignards volants.

Ces films, qui ont rencontré un succès planétaire, prouvent que si goût et passion sont de mise, une histoire typiquement chinoise peut traverser toutes les frontières.

(c) Shanghai Scene
Chief editor: Dave Taylor
November 2005 issue

Richard Meyer’s biography of Ruan Lingyu is the first text in English devoted to China’s most famous film-star of the silent era. By the time of her death in 1935 China’s ‘Greta Garbo’ had crammed a remarkable number of 29 films into just 24 years. Ruan specialized in portraying ill-fated characters, most notably The Goddess, in which she played a single mother who turns to prostitution to support her son. As Meyer points out, Ruan’s own life was far from savory. One married lover whittled away her money in gambling dens; another, a violent tea merchant, refused to marry her.
After her suicide in 1935, she became a symbol for women’s liberation and the denunciation of China’s feudal society. Meyer succeeds in painting a portrait of Ruan against the backdrop of the era in which she lived and worked. A good primer for anyone interested in this remarkable actress from a long lost era.
Hong-Kong University Press
Available at www.hkupress.org & www.amazon.com

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

The Myth, starring the prolific Jackie Chan, marks a return to form for the action hero whose career has been in decline for nearly a decade. The stunts, plot, jokes and acting are better than usual, and the film has some moments of real poetry. Chan suffers from spreading himself too widely (actor, stuntman, director and producer) which often results in half-baked flicks. However, here the film is more than the sum of its parts. The plot features parallel storylines: one contemporary, the other set during the Qin dynasty. The cast is equally diverse, intentionally so, as Indian actress Mallika Sherawat will increase the potential box office take by adding a third of the world’s population. In any case, Chan’s ambitions are clear: “I want to be an Asian Robert De Niro,” he recently boasted. One can always dream, but at least the man is back on the ladder instead of falling off it.
Media Asia

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

Guanzhou Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
November 2005 issue

It’s no secret that film directing in both China and the West is a predominantly male métier. But try telling that to director Peng Xiaolian. Not only has she defied the odds with a string of critically-acclaimed films, but she continues to go against the grain by making films in Shanghai, her hometown. While the city has become an attractive backdrop for major foreign film companies (most notably Warner’s The Painted Veil starring Edward Norton and Paramount’s Mission Impossible 3 with Tom Cruise), local filmmakers still struggle to get Chinese films off the ground. But Peng remains doggedly undeterred. The fifth-generation filmmaker insists upon shooting in Shanghai despite the fact that Beijing remains the best place by far to get a movie made in China.
Her latest film, Shanghai Story, was shot in 2003 and released in cinemas this year during the mid-autumn festival. The film, Peng’s tenth, is about the legacy of the “cultural revolution” in today’s China. Shot in just 45 days, the film was selected for competition in five international film festivals and swept a record four Golden Rooster Awards [China’s equivalent to the Oscars] in 2004, as well as the Best Actress Award at the 2004 Shanghai International Film Festival.
Peng always writes her own scripts, including dialogue from real-life conversations she has recorded. It’s a method she’s used to great effect since her student days in the late 1970s when studying at the Beijing Film Academy with alumni Zhang Yimou and Chen Kaige. Upon graduation and after a couple of art-house successes under the Shanghai Film Studio’s umbrella -- Me and My Classmate (1986) and Women’s Story (1989) -- she furthered her studies at the New York University. In 1996, she returned to Shanghai, a city she’s since made her permanent home. In the last nine years she has directed no less than six feature films. Amongst them, Once Upon A Time in Shanghai (1999) achieved cinematic release in the US, while Shanghai Women (2002) was a sleeper hit in Japan, running for 13 consecutive weeks. In an exclusive interview with that’s she discusses the film industry, and her favorite movie themes – Shanghai and Chinese women.

that’s: What drew you to filmmaking?
Peng Xiaolian: When I was young there was no one to take care of me at home during the summer vacations so my mother brought me to the studio where she worked as a translator for Russian films. I saw there how they made and processed films. I thought it was what I knew best and so, in 1978, I applied for entry to China’s only film school at the time, the Beijing Film Academy [BFA].

that’s: Your generation – the first after the “cultural revolution” – is referred to as the “fifth generation” filmmakers.
PX: That’s what a lot of people call it. But I don’t care for labels. Maybe it’s important to others, but not to me. The most important thing to me is that people care about who you are, what you’ve done, and if it actually makes sense.

that’s: Shanghai itself is a central feature of your films, Shanghai Story, Shanghai Women, and Once Upon a Time in Shanghai. You obviously have a special affinity with your hometown.
PX: Yes, Shanghai is like a character in my movies. The culture is so different from the rest of the country. It’s the most interesting, modern and artistic city in China. During the 30s and 40s there were many colonial concessions here. It was – and still is – a multicultural city. It’s like a foreign city in China. That’s why I pay a lot of attention to Shanghai, to its culture and to people who live here.

that’s: It makes sense; you grew up here.
PX: Yes, since I returned from New York, I love Shanghai more than ever. Shanghai is to China what New York is to the US. When I grew up here, I never appreciated how interesting Shanghai was. Everything was so commonplace. New York gave me the critical distance to appreciate just how interesting Shanghai really is. It wasn’t until then that I realized that Shanghai is the city I love the most.

that’s: What’s your latest film Shanghai Story about?
PX: It’s the story of a Chinese family and set after the “cultural revolution”. During this time many people were hurt emotionally and that’s what the film is about. Chinese people couldn’t cope with their feelings or with the shadows of this era. Shanghai Story is about a country – China - and its people. It’s about the lives of modern Chinese, their feelings and their thoughts resulting from the “cultural revolution”. So, this movie, like most of my films, is based on ordinary people’s lives, which is what I really care about.

that’s: Was it difficult to put the project together and how was it received?
PX: I was lucky with the Film Bureau in Beijing which gave the film a very favorable reaction. The final cut passed through the censorship process without a single word being changed. We won many Golden Rooster Awards in 2004. All 22 of the jury members voted unanimously for Shanghai Story as the best picture. So people were really moved by the film. It was also the first time they gave the Best Director Award to a female director.

that’s: You like to use real-life dialogue in your movies. Why?
PX: In Shanghai Story, the family story had to be natural; that is, they shouldn’t talk in a dramatic way. I wanted to give the film a docu-drama style. Actually we did a lot of beautiful photography and camera work so it doesn’t really look like a docu-drama at all!

that’s: Shanghai Story features strong female characters. How has the situation of Chinese women evolved since you made Women’s Story (1989) and Shanghai Women (2002)?
PX: Women’s Story told of the struggle of three peasant women in the 1980s when China started to reform. They flee from the country to the city and fight to change their lives. The situation for women is very different now. I couldn’t say it’s better, just different. Shanghai Women (2002) is about women in the big city who try to find their own spirit and space in life. Chinese society today is changing in a very commercial way. Now a lot of women who try to be independent have difficulties getting a job, whereas it’s easier for men. Company managers will hire a 45-year-old man but not a women older than 35. They encourage women to retire at 40 or 45. In the work environment they think a 30-something woman is already old! So there’s a gender and age issue here. It’s stupid. They just like pretty women and don’t care whether they’re smart or educated.

that’s: What about women in the film industry?
PX: It’s very difficult for women to make movies nowadays in China. The market is driven by commercial concerns, not cultural ones. In the ‘80s there were a lot of female directors. Now only a few women filmmakers make feature films. Most work in TV.

that’s: Is Shanghai the place to make modern Chinese films?
PX: It’s extremely difficult to make movies in Shanghai. I don’t really know why. I don’t think Shanghai will be the new cinema center in China any time soon. The Beijing film industry, however, is getting stronger and stronger. Not just because there’s the Beijing Film Academy, as people don’t care about school. What they care about is the market, the current situation and the powers that be. That’s what Beijing currently offers. It’s easier to make movies there and it’s very attractive for foreign investors.
Shanghai is simply too complicated and weak.

that’s: Filmmaking also takes center stage in your next project…
PX: Yes, it’s a movie called Shanghai Rumba starring celebrated actor Xia Yu [Waiting Alone]. It deals with filmmakers in the late 1940s, their work, lives and loves. They try to make left wing movies and have a lot of trouble with the national government of the time. They try to shoot secretly and to protect their low-budget films. Nowadays we still face the same financing problems. Like the characters in the film, we don’t have nearly enough money but we still try to make the best film possible.

Special thanks to Tomson Films and Runa Zhou.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
November 2005 issue
Photo courtesy Mick Ryan www.mickryan.com

Guanzhou Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
November 2005 issue

Although a film about antelope poaching in Tibet may not be everyone's cup of yak tea, in his highly acclaimed Mountain Patrol (Kekexili), Xinjiang-born director Lu Chuan tells the valiant story of a group of Tibetans and their battle against such poachers. "To make a film requires a lot of courage," says Lu. Indeed it does. Tackling thorny social issues isn't easy in China and like the mountain patrol, Lu has sometimes had to sacrifice principle for commercial reality.
Lu's sacrifices have not always been restricted to the financial end of things. His first film, The Missing Gun, was a "nightmare" for the young Beijing Film Academy graduate. Two years later, he went back for more, shooting Mountain Patrol on the 5000-meter high Qinghai-Tibetan plateau. Warmth and oxygen were luxuries; Lu became severely ill and one member of the production team fell victim to Tibet's notoriously risky roads.
For his hardship he was awarded the chance to represent China in the Foreign Language Film category at the Academy Awards in March 2006. But the world of film financing being what it is, his newfound fame did little to attract investors, and he had to abandon his plans for Nanking! Nanking! -- a film about the Nanjing Massacre. Yet Lu is not the type to surrender so easily. Like the yaks that graze the Tibetan plateau, he thrives in harsh environments.
His latest project, Border Area (Bian Jiang), is currently in production in the Xinjiang-Uyghur Autonomous Region. The plot has broad appeal and casting Hong Kong singer/actor Leon Lai should help increase the film's earning potential, so hopes are high. Produced by Huayi Brothers & Taihe Films, Border Area is adapted from the Wang Gang novel "Yinggelishi" with a screenplay written by Lu's father, Lu Tianming. The film follows a Xinjiangnese student who tries to learn English for the love of his classmate; a decision that brings unexpected turns to his life. Something Lu himself should be familiar with.

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

Wang Xiaoshuai, director of Beijing Bicycle, and more recently Shanghai Dreams, which brought home the Jury Prize at Cannes, met with us at Duolun Museum of Modern Art to discuss the trials and tribulations of filmmaking and deliver a lecture on his craft to an eager audience. The museum was a fitting backdrop for the lecture – as chief curator Gu Zhengqing sees it as “a site to rethink societal problems” a favorite topic for Wang’s company, Sixth-Generation films.

Wang’s lecture, Carving My Time — from The Days to Shanghai Dreams, explored the parallels between life and cinema, and between the lines, the reality of China’s current production methods and distribution.

While Wang Xiaoshuai might be considered successful – he has produced several well-respected works – realizing his dreams in the film industry has proved to be an arduous journey, along a road strewn with compromise.

Shanghai Dreams – the fruit of Wang’s real life experiences growing up in grizzly Guizhou – also serves as a metaphor for the current, rather desperate, situation of the Chinese film industry. As it turns out, the film was no dream to produce. Between having to beg film-star Wang Luodan to participate in the film, and scrounging for money to complete the project, Wang and co-producer Pi Li certainly had a rough go of it.

Their situation is typical of most non-commercial film producers who rely on private investors. With a single phone call, Wang might dial up RMB 500,000 or conversely, struggle for months to scrape together enough coin to cover the basics. Without box office revenues, enticing investors in China is reliably difficult. Most revenue comes from sponsorships – advertisements which air before the film starts. Sponsors therefore see the film as a mere pretext for audiences to watch their commercials. And even with sponsorship and decent box office revenues, many films end up in the red.

Shanghai Dreams came dangerously close. Riding a wave of euphoria following his victory at Cannes, Wang was encouraged by the film’s distribution company to release Shanghai Dreams two months ahead of schedule. Suddenly short of time, Wang cut a few deals and lost 50 per cent of the expected sponsorship revenue. He calculated the risk by banking on an early release and a higher box-office gross improving his chances of securing financing for his next film. The math is straightforward. Shanghai Dreams cost RMB 10 million, and the box-office brought in a “rather satisfying” RMB 3 million. This amount is shared between cinemas, distribution companies, PR agencies and film reproduction labs. International sales, which begin at around RMB 8 million (USD 1 million), 80 per cent of the initial investment – will help recoup costs. In China directors don’t make money with movies. Says Pi: “Our own profit will come from DVDs and CCTV – and it’s a very small profit.”

Despite their sobering financial circumstances, Pi and Wang are optimistic. Together they founded the “Debo” or “Huge Morals” production Company. Both men believe in the old Chinese saying: “With high morals you can solve any problem.” Wang and Pi realize how important it is to offer more opportunities to young filmmakers. “With Debo, we plan to do more commercial projects to support independent films,” explains Pi. A necessary evil perhaps, but one they hope will subsidize a broader array of local artistic films.

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

This is not old news; Shanghai Dreams has just been released with English subtitles on DVD, finally giving local audiences the chance to view this Grand Prize winner at the 2005 Cannes film festival. Set in the 1980s, Shanghai Dreams is a return to form for the director whose career has been languishing since his groundbreaking Sixth Generation debut The Days. An exploration of the limits (and betrayals) of authority, the film explores the predicament of a generation whose city-born parents resettled in China’s impoverished interior during the “cultural revolution” to help jump-start the country’s industrial march of progress, but who now yearn to go home as China begins to take its first steps toward economic liberalization.
Wanting a better life for his children, a father repeatedly exhorts his teenage daughter to concentrate on her studies and forces the girl to break off her relationship with her factory-worker sweetheart; events soon take a tragic course. Bleak, yet fascinating.
Zoke Movies

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