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

The past few years has seen a flowering of Sino-European co-productions: The White Countess; The World; Red Little Flowers; Love in the Year of the Tiger; Jade Warrior; Luxury Car; Summer Palace and Dam Street, to name a few. Why? In part, because foreign film producers have easier access to the Chinese mainland – and co-productions are seen to benefit both parties.

The results have been generally positive. “We work together; respect each other and appreciate each other’s work and opinions,” says Polish filmmaker Jacek Bromski who helmed the first Sino-Polish joint project (between Changchun Film Studios and Poland Studio Zebra), Love in the Year of the Tiger (LYT). Referring to the unusual degree of mutual respect, Bromski adds that “it’s often not like this when we co-produce with other countries.”

That said, foreign and domestic producers recognize that by definition, co-production means both partners share in the profit, and risk. Last year, proceeds for joint projects, which still account for just 10 per cent of the overall number of films screened, accounted for an astounding 35 per cent of the total box-office revenue.

That windfall can be attributed to various incentives, such as tax breaks (of up to 50 per cent) and better distribution opportunities. Co-productions are not considered ‘foreign’ films and thus are not subject to the ‘20 foreign films per year’ quota. In 2005, the top four box office films were co-productions.

Sino-European co-productions are in a particularly favorable position; they enjoy access to funding from European organizations (France’s Fonds Sud Cinema; Holland’s Hubert Bals Fund, etc.,), and at the same time they can participate in China’s national film competitions (The Hundred Flowers Awards and The Golden Rooster Awards). Indeed, LYT will vie for the Golden Rooster Awards this month in Hangzhou.

Though it’s no small achievement to take home a Golden Rooster, foreign production companies are much more interested in China’s expanding market. Some estimates state that China’s annual box office revenue will reach RMB 8 billion by 2010, up from RMB 2 billion in 2005. “China is a potentially huge market; there are not a lot of theaters but it’s a start,” says French producer Sylvain Butzteijn (Rosem Films), whose latest production, Luxury Car directed by Wang Chao, won the Un Certain Regard/Fondation GAN award in Cannes last May. Butzeijn, like many other European producers is bullish on the industry’s future in China; indeed, he believes the market will be huge in the next decade or two.

In addition to the numbers and the profits they imply, some foreign producers are attracted to China for artistic reasons. Butzeijn, for example, says Sino-European co-productions are a way of introducing Chinese films to the global market, and an opportunity “to take part in the development of a great international cinema.”

Of course, what appeals to an international audience doesn’t necessarily appeal to domestic tastes. A case in point: Jia Zhangke’s The World, a Chinese/French/Japanese co-production, met with a mixed response in Chinese theaters.

To cater to audiences in China and abroad, some filmmakers are combining cultural elements in their works. Producers Francesco Ferracin and Beth Sanders of the UK-based company Silk and Steel Productions have two film projects in development with Chinese partners. Jasmine, shot and set in Shanghai, will reinterpret the European myth of the Flying Dutchman and “blend the qualities of Far-Eastern aesthetics with a traditional European tale”, according to the press kit.

Bromski has taken a similar approach. LYT is set in the 20th-century and concerns a Polish prisoner of war saved by a Chinese hunter. “When the story is based on the natural confrontation of two different cultures,” he says, “both audiences can learn about our differences and similarities.”

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

Despite his kung fu prowess, Jackie Chan is no match for China’s DVD pirates. For one thing, he’s vastly outnumbered. But that hasn’t stopped Chan from fighting for his rights. Indeed, at every personal appearance in China or elsewhere in the world, he declares his position with no punches pulled: “They’re robbing the creative industry.”

Of course, robbery is a crime, and consequently Chan has become something of a caped crusader, which is not to say he’s battling alone. Recently, he joined forces with a group of more than 60 film producers to lobby the government to take stern action against those who pilfer creative works.

The pilfering takes place on a grand scale. Last year, the Chinese film industry produced in excess of 260 films, which collectively earned about RMB 2 billion (USD 250 million) at the box office, states a report by the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. Yet in 2005 alone, piracy cost the China film industry USD 2.7 billion (RMB 21.6 billion), according to LEK Consulting. Motion Picture Association (MPA) senior vice president, Asia Pacific, Michael Ellis says that China’s losses account for 55 per cent of the worldwide loss of revenue due to audio-video piracy. Put another way, the numbers suggest that in 2005 bootleggers made ten times the total revenue of the PRC film industry.

In short, the level of piracy in China, which is at an extremely high level indeed, is crippling. It hurts Hollywood, of course, but Ellis says that the “first victim is the national [Chinese] cinema”.

The root of the problem is weak intellectual property rights. As late as 1982, China had no IPR laws to speak of. Since then, laws have been enacted, and anti-piracy campaigns have had some impact. In 2005-2006, police made 2,600 arrests and seized a total of 167 million pirated products. MPA, however, says the government needs to make greater efforts to crack down on pirates, including stiffer deterrent sentencing.

But the most effective method to weaken the pirate’s grasp on the industry lies not in the courtroom, but rather in the classroom. In other words, educating the public on the importance of IPR protection. As such, the government launched IPR Protection Week in April, and a host of new IPR protection plans and arrangements.

But even if these efforts succeed, with the number of Chinese Internet users reaching 111 million, it’s going to take more than a few big character posters to stop the bleeding. Illegal downloading cost the Chinese film industry RMB 8 billion (USD 1 billion) in 2005. No wonder Chan’s anti-piracy slogan is “Fakes Cost More”.

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

One might think that fair-haired, well-muscled Nordic warriors and dark and slender Chinese swordsmen have little in common. Yet in Jade Warrior (Jadesoturi) Finnish film director Antti-Jussi Annila has constructed a cultural bridge between his homeland and China.

A Sino-European co-production – involving Finland, China, Holland and Estonia – the RMB 27.5 million film is based on The Kalevala, an epic 19th-century poem still influential in Finland to this day. “The heroes in The Kalevala are not typical heroes; no matter what they do they can never get the women they love,” says Annila.

Jade Warriors follows the travails of one hapless warrior (Tommi Eronen) as he fights to be reunited with his beloved Zhang Jingchu (Peacock). To achieve that aim, he travels across time and place, from ancient China to cold contemporary Finland. Along the way, the past feeds the story in the present day, and slowly reveals the warrior’s origin in China’s Iron Age, as well as his exceptional fighting skills. It’s an odd mix to be sure, but the 29-year-old filmmaker says the hybrid plot is not too far-fetched. Both The Kalevala, and China’s wuxia pian tradition of chivalrous marital arts’ spectacles, share a common theme: “melodramatic love stories of warriors, swords and sorcery”, explains the director.

Annila is both a student and fan of Hong Kong Tsui Hark and John Woo, both of whom are masters of the wuxia pian genre. Indeed, Annila says that his aim in making the film was to “find the source of the huge energy of those Hong Kong action films”.

That said, Jade Warriors promises to be more than your average kung fu flick; rather, it offers an exploration of the cultural connection between the two countries which extends back to the late 19th century. Those ties are perhaps best exemplified in a running motif in the film based on a Finnish artifact, sampo. In Finland, it is said to bring good fortune to the Nordic people, while its Chinese counterpart, sanfu, or sampo in Mongolian, means ‘the secret source of all happiness’.

The Finnish sampo concept then, which is central to The Kalevala, closely resembles the shamanistic cosmologies of Mongolia, and those of Tibet. The Kalevala has been translated into 54 languages, and inspired J.R.R. Tolkien to learn Finnish so that he could read it in the original language. In light of the above, that Jade Warrior is the first ever Finnish kung fu film is really not so surprising; after all, the quest for happiness is universal.

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

This column is a part of a monthly contribution to the national daily China Youth Daily. It was published on August 8, 2006 in the paper and in the China Youth Daily Website. Originally written in English, it was translated into simplified Chinese by Joy Shao Jie.

English version:

Spices are very common components of the Chinese cuisine. Most westerners are not used to the hot spicy dishes though. Let’s see how foreign friends react to the red spices when they arrive in China while Chinese are so accustomed to them.

From Xinjiang to Yunnan, passing by Hunan or Sichuan, Chinese food is very spicy. Actually abroad, the name “Sichuan” is synonymous with spicy food. It’ very famous and you can order a special “Sichuan spicy dish” from a Chinese restaurant when you are in England or in France. Yet the Sichuan spices there taste like candy floss compared to the real thing! Us foreigners, we are not very used to this kind of hot food.

Maybe the closest we have to spices in our dishes are black paper, garlic and a bit of curry. In France we have “moutarde” or mustard, a kind of paste made out of seeds comparable to the Japan’s wasabi and which is extra strong. It’s often eaten in small quantity with meat. Yet, it’s different from the dozens of pepper varieties from Xinjiang to Yunnan. Besides, in the UK and the US some exotic foods are very popular, like Indian curry of the Tex Mex cuisine. Yet all these are peanuts. They cannot really compare to a Sichuan style spicy tofu (Ma po dou fu), spicy pig tripes (fu qi fei pian) or the spicy fish soup (ma la shu zhu yu), all delicious, but deadly for the non-trained foreign tongues.

If like me, before coming to China foreigners have never tried it before, it’s then a mouth torture. For us spice neophytes, hot spices fries our brain, upset our stomach and wet our socks. That was my first experience to spicy food upon arriving in China two years ago. No rice, water or beer can extinguish this fire. The only remedy I found so far was to drink coconut milk. It offers an instant relief. So when you invite foreign friends to a spicy food restaurant, always prepare some spare coconut milk for them.

Foreigners aren’t used to spice, but some can stand it. Until they reach a threshold, and when it tastes very spicy for them, it might be just mildly spicy for some Chinese. Eating spice is in fact a question of practice. From childhood some Chinese, Indian or Thai people get used to a large amount of spices in their food. The more they eat the less they feel it, the same cannot be said for Westerners.

I then realized that despite the fact that many Chinese people smoke, the first national addiction isn’t tobacco but probably spicy food. I have a female friend. Let’s call her Laba. She’s from Kunming, Yunnan. She’s twenty something and her hobby is spices. She always asks her Yunnan folks to send bags of spice (seasoned ground red pepper) to her Shanghai’s home. The last parcel contained more than one hundred of these little bags of fire. It would merely last for two months she told me! She is indeed a spice queen.

Sometimes, when I cook French dishes for friends, they don’t bother to taste the real thing, like Laba, they just add tons of hot spices. They might find it’s too light or to plain. A shame, French dishes are also very delicious. Yet my friend’s French plate must taste like a Sichuan dish.

For Laba, no matter where she goes, she’ll take her little bags of spices with her. She claims she cannot do without it; even if it gives her pimples she needs it. She told me it was like a drug. True, in fact the more spice she eats, the more her mouth and her taste buds are accustomed to spice. So to get the spicy feeling, she always needs more. It’s the “vicious spice circle”. The spicy feeling on the tongue must be very exciting; it must make her feel like she lives dangerously.

But it’s not good for boyfriends, for it’s hard to bear a spicy kiss. Besides, spice food doesn’t give good breath. At all. My friend Laba doesn’t have a boyfriend. She has two dogs. So that solves the problem. She can eat spice as much as she wants.
Yet I wonder, one day, if she goes to a foreign country where there are no spices, what would she do? She’ll be craving after a couple of days. Would she smuggle tons of spice to this country? Would she try some substitutes to titillate her taste buds, like these acid little lemon-flavored candies? Or would she get a sweet tooth and start eating very sweet things? I hope her skin problem will get better though and she could start dating one day.

China Youth Daily

(c) China Youth Daily/Thomas Podvin
August 2006

I had arranged to interview Shu Haolun, an independent documentary filmmaker and teacher at the Shanghai University Film and Television School, following the June premier of his second directorial effort, Nostalgia, at the Shanghai Film Library in Hongkou District. However, after the screening and a heated Q&A session with the audience, Shu, a graduate of Southern Illinois University, was far too agitated to answer any more questions, especially questions posed in English.

Instead, we arranged to meet the next day, and though the temperature was fiery, Shu appeared composed. Needless to say, appearances are deceiving. In short time, the 34 year-old filmmaker revealed himself as a man of passion, one who relies on his gut instincts. Indeed, Shu is as intense as the summer’s heat, though his energies are filtered through the camera lens. Which is to say he shines a bright light on selective subjects: his family, the city in which he was born, China’s rapid development and its effect on ordinary Chinese people.

While that may seem a rather broad spectrum, it’s not. Shu’s brand of non-fiction filmmaking is highly personal. Nostalgia puts his family center stage, along with his own memories of growing up in a neighborhood of shikumen (stone-gate houses), one that has been slotted for demolition. Though Shu’s documentary is highly subjective (in one scene he recalls a childhood sweetheart), his sense of nostalgia, indeed his memories of Da Zhongli, an area of 7,000 residents in the Jing’an district, is one that has universal appeal, grounded, as it is, in humanist principles.

As mentioned above, Shu is passionate, but he is also compassionate. A trait that is evident in his directorial debut, Struggle (2001), a film that concerns three migrant workers who lost their hands while working in one of Shenzhen’s sweatshops, and their struggle, aided by lawyer Zhou Litai, for a better life, fundamental rights and justice. While in production, Shu became intimate with the workers and their lawyer, and as a result, Struggle is more than just an exposé; it expresses an undeniable sympathy with the suffering (and the struggle for human dignity) of its subjects.

For his next project, Shu will revisit territory covered in an earlier work, How Yukong Moved the Mountain, a 12 episode, 763 minute documentary on the “cultural revolution” by the late Dutch documentary filmmaker Joris Ivens (1898-1989). Entitled A Letter to Ivens – a revisit to Yukong, Shu’s version will once again center on the experiences of his family, childhood and his hometown.

that’s: Why did you chose to study filmmaking in the US?
Shu Haolun: At the time [mid-1990s], the only film school [in China] was the Beijing Film Academy (BFA). It was quite a closed system; you had to be extremely smart and to perform very well in the entrance examination to [gain admission]. Or you needed to have the right connections. I failed the entrance exam [and wasn’t connected]. So it seemed impossible for me to enter the BFA, which had a superior air because of its monopoly, as if it were the kingdom of filmmaking in the Middle Kingdom. So I studied English and went to the USA. I wanted to see other parts of the world, and I think I’ve made the right choice.

that’s: What inspired you to make documentaries?
SH: Back in 1998, I was studying at the Southern Illinois University [SIU]. My university advisor signed me up for the documentary classes. I had already missed the orientation week because I was late due to some visa issues and didn’t know what the classes were about. One of them was about documentary history, from the late 1960s to late 1990s.
In China, we weren’t much exposed to documentaries. The films I was watching in the US were very different, like Chris Marker’s La Jetée (1962) and Alain Resnais’ Night and Fog (1955). Later on, I saw a documentary that blew my mind, Barbara Kopple’s American Dream (1990). It was about a workers’ union at a meat factory. It wasn’t done in the style of 1960s Cinéma Vérité, but it was a very powerful work, maybe one of the most powerful non-fiction films [I’ve seen].

that’s: Why did you return to China?
SH: At SIU, we had to make a film as an assigned project. At the time, I wanted to make a fictional film. But I couldn’t get approval from the teachers’ committee, who wanted a more realist story. That upset me, so I came back to China to make films.

that’s: How did you choose Struggle as your first project?
SH: The story is fascinating; there’s no question about it. I think the human aspect of the film is also very strong. One of the migrant workers, Xiao Hongxing, is from Hubei Province; his family couldn’t support his studies, so he went to a technical school instead of college and got a technical degree. Later, he went to Shenzhen [as a migrant worker], and unfortunately suffered an industrial accident that left him crippled. The story of Xiao and the other workers is shocking.

Although we live in different worlds and have almost nothing in common, besides nationality and language, I felt we were connected. In the beginning, they called me ‘journalist Shu’. I am not a journalist, but they basically thought that anyone with a camera was a journalist. But gradually I won their confidence, and they told me their story. After they knew me better, they called me Xiao Shu, or ‘Little Shu’. And these victims from the newspapers became human beings to me. We developed a personal bond.

that’s: You had European funding for this project.
SH: I applied for, and received, funding from the Netherlands’ Jan Vrijman Fund, and from the Swiss Agency. So I was well funded for my very first project, which surprised my US professors. Back in China I started to work on topics I really liked. And this time, no one said the subject wasn’t realistic enough. Later Struggle was screened at many festivals around the world and won the Best Documentary Award at the Fribourg International Film Festival (Switzerland).

that’s: Let’s talk about Nostalgia and your motives in keeping memories of an old Shanghai neighborhood alive.
SH: In 2002, as I was finishing my studies in the US, I learned that the place where I’d always lived in Shanghai, the neighborhood of Da Zhongli, was sold to a Hong Kong real estate developer who planned to build skyscrapers in place of the existing shikumen.
Da Zhongli is our family home, the place my family has always lived. I was worried that if I didn’t film it then, the opportunity would be lost forever. Another source of inspiration was a series of essays in the Shanghai Literature magazine entitled My City Map, which described the writers’ favorite places in Shanghai, be it their birthplaces or where they grew up. Nostalgia was my own My City Map but in the form of a documentary film. This project was personal; I really wanted to do something for my home and my family.

that’s: You might have named your documentary My Home, rather than Nostalgia.
SH: Not exactly, because I miss my home and the 1980s. I miss that particular place and time, which are mixed together; it’s not possible for me to separate them. I also show [in Nostalgia] my personal experiences when I was a teenager.

that’s: Both Struggle and Nostalgia examine some of the negative effects of rapid modernization. Does that mean you are a conservative?
SH: No, I think everybody likes modernization. Nobody wants to live in a cave like during the Stone Age. However, modernization shouldn’t mean unhealthy development.
A while ago I went to Jakarta, Indonesia, but I wasn’t able to see much. The traffic was so packed that if I wanted to go anywhere it would have taken at least two hours. Yes, there are super highways across the city, but the city is not designed on a human scale. You can also see a lot of foreign cars and banks and international brands – it’s like anywhere else in the US. I am afraid that might happen in Shanghai. Modernization isn’t about how many skyscrapers and highways a city has. It’s about how we can share wealth and how everybody can enjoy it. In other words, if modernization is about money it’s wrong; if it’s about people it’s right.

that’s: What about your next project, A Letter to Ivens?

SH: This documentary, currently in development, is about Joris Ivens, who in the early 1970s was invited by then Prime Minister Zhou [Enlai] to make a film about almost every aspect of the “cultural revolution” [in How Yukong Moved the Mountain (1971-1977)]. It ran to 12 episodes, but I will only revisit three. One of them is about a factory in Shanghai that produces generators, a typical Soviet-style factory where they have everything (a school, hospital, dormitories), and where my father worked for decades until he retired. I’ve a personal connection with this place; I used to go to the swimming pool there when I was young. The second episode’s about a [local] pharmacy, which is more representative of a small working environment, while the third episode is about the Da Qing oil fields.

that’s: Is this project a comment on Ivens’ documentary?
SH: The whole project is about how Ivens portrayed the events of that period. I am not interested in whether his work is true or not; my angle is to shoot discussions with common people who experienced that time. Currently, I’m negotiating the rights for footage from Ivens’ film – my concept is to reunite past and present images.

For more information see Shu Haolun's homepage:
http://spaces.msn.com/haolunshui
This article also features in Shu Haolun's homepage

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

Jasmine Women, a classy cinematic adaptation of Su Tong’s novel Women’s Life (co-produced by Tian Zhuangzhuang), deals with the loves and losses of Shanghainese women over three generations, from the 1930s to the1990s. Their fate is far from pretty. The real beauty is in the telling; the life of each character is subtly mirrored in the mores of a given period, as evidenced, for example, in the tale of a single mother circa 1930s. After three years delay, Jasmine Flower (Mo Li Hua Kai in Chinese, a play on the protagonist’s names) was finally released this past April. The late release was due to objections among the film’s investors, who were unhappy with its unusual, yet intriguing, structure. The movie is broken up into three medium length films (129 minutes in total) with each segment (1930s, 1960s and 1980s) having its own distinctive flavor (and form of intrigue). Zhang Ziyi and Joan Chen play three different characters, with both actresses excelling in their multiple roles. Zhang’s performance is of special note; indeed, this 27-year-old Beijing Dance Academy graduate (who pocketed the 2004 Best Actress Golden Rooster Award), is clearly China’s most gifted young actress.
Wanji Group

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

The White Countess is set in late 1930s Shanghai, just prior to the Japanese invasion of eastern China. At the time, nightlife, at least in the foreign settlements, was at its decadent apex. Into this heady world comes a blind American, a former diplomat (Ralph Fiennes), who opens a chic nightclub where he meets a beautiful Russian countess (Natasha Richardson), reduced to working as a bar girl to support her daughter and aristocratic family who have fled the turmoil in their homeland. Co-produced by the Shanghai Film Group, and shot in Shanghai in late 2004, The White Countess is the last collaboration between famed producers Ismail Merchant and James Ivory (A Room with a View, Howard’s End); Merchant died in May 2005 after completing the film. Along with a screenplay by celebrated UK novelist Kazuo Ishiguro, and masterly cinematography by Christopher Doyle, the film displays the Merchant/Ivory’s usual hallmarks: sumptuous production design, detailed period reconstruction, and solid performances. However, this time round, they fall short of their best work. A disjointed structure, ineffective pacing, capped by a hollow emotional climax, all combine to lose the viewer long before the film sails off into a clichéd sunset.
Merchant-Ivory Productions

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

With this disturbing, yet enthralling, thriller, lauded in the US as his best work for a decade, Woody Allen has, ahem, served up an ace against the opposing side (critics and audiences). Match Point’s central question (there’s always a question in Allen’s films), is to what extent our lives depend on luck. On the screen, this quandary is addressed by former tennis pro Chris Wilton (Jonathan Rhys Meyers). About to marry the daughter of a well-off British family, he falls for his prospective brother-in-law’s seductive American spouse (Scarlett Johansson). Match Point is a unique effort among the 71-year-old director’s extensive filmography. It’s Allen’s first (though in all likelihood not his last) attempt to escape intrusive Hollywood executives – the film was shot entirely on location in Great Britain. What’s more, it’s the antithesis of his usual style: no neurotic New Yorkers, no over-intellectualized dialogue, no comic relief, and no jazz soundtrack. Instead, we have a great piece of operatic tragedy, proving that Allen is still a filmmaking force. Indeed, the director, in his inimitable fashion, admits as much. Following an avalanche of positive reviews, he declared: “The only thing standing between me and greatness is me.”
DreamWorks/BBC

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

“Every morning, the President of the United States is given a report that outlines the most active international and domestic threats ... this document is called the ‘Threat Matrix’”. So begins each episode of this ABC TV series, which dramatizes the behind-the-scenes action at the security institutions in the world’s most powerful state. The show is reasonably well written, at least when compared with other such couch-potato fare; though it does, at times, verge on the cheesy, and occasionally suffers from an overdose of gung-ho patriotism, and predictability. The drama unequivocally plays off 9/11, portraying homeland security agents as heroes in their defense of the Stars and Stripes. There are striking similarities with Jack Bauer in FOX’s 24 (see Movie Reviews, P25), but Threat Matrix is less dynamic, suspenseful, and successful. A point underlined by the fact that the series only lasted two seasons (16 episodes). Yet the real menace, for viewers, comes from the TV industry’s endeavor to exploit terrorist attacks for entertainment purposes, trivializing extreme situations, and playing up xenophobic fears. No-brainer TV it may be, but a balanced view would be of greater public benefit.
ABC

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

In The Sentinel, Kiefer Sutherland plays Jack Bauer, a Secret Service agent assigned to protect the President from a conspiracy to assassinate him. The main suspect is a fellow agent, with the rest of the film devoted to the subsequent hunt for the mole within. Hang on a minute, that’s the plot from the TV show 24, but with so many similarities one could be forgiven for confusing the two. Sutherland actually plays Agent David Breckinridge, and the suspect is Pete Garrison (Michael Douglas), but the rest of the plot may as well have come from 20th Century Fox’s hit series. Perhaps to compensate for the lack of an original storyline, much of the footage is shot with a handheld-camera in an unsuccessful effort to liven up the proceedings. This style comes as no surprise: director Clark Johnson cut his teeth on gritty cop shows such as Homicide and The Shield. But his sophomore flick, with its far fetched twists and clumsily staged action scenes just can’t match the pace of his small screen efforts. In sum, why should moviegoers pay to see this work at theaters, when they can watch almost exactly the same thing at home (only better) on TV?
20th Century Fox

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

(c) that's PRD
PRD Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
July 2006 issue

According to its publisher Doubleday, Dan Brown’s global bestseller has sold over 60 million copies in 45 languages and counting. As such, it was inevitable that the book would be brought to the big screen, and almost as predictable it would make hundreds of millions at the box office. What no one could have foreseen was that The Da Vinci Code would be such a turkey of a film. In case you’re one of the few souls who hasn’t read the book, the plot can be summarized as follows: French cryptologist (Audrey Tautou) teams up with an American religious-symbol expert (Tom Hanks) to find the killer of the Louvre curator, and unveils a two-thousand-year-old secret that threatens the foundations of modern Christianity. Of course, as one would expect with a Hollywood production, the film is full of gorgeous locations (including the Louvre), and a star-packed cast (with a typically distinguished Ian McKellan as Sir Leigh Teabing). But with too many characters, locations and plot twists, what flowed with relative ease on the printed page, is laborious on celluloid. However, both media do share one thing in common: theological and historical nonsense.
Columbia Pictures

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

(c) that's PRD
PRD Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
July 2006 issue

In this double billed compilation, the so-called ‘Taiwanese Godfather of Electronica’, DJ @llen, offers over twenty disparate tracks of electronica, performed by an impressive array of international artists, including Lee Coombs, Marco V, Cloud 9 and Havana Funk. Despite his cool attitude (check that cover), the veteran beat matching master doesn’t mess about; he blends tempos, pushes records and balances rhythms with meticulousness precision. On the Electro Acid and Tribal House CD, Oscar Goldman’s playful “Thrust 2” is laid into Mark Knight’s mesmeric “Inside You”; SuperChumbo’s fiesta-style “Dirtyfilthy” is faded into Smokin Jo and Washington’s late night house “State of Mind”. The attitude on the Funky Club and Latin House CD is more lighthearted and uplifting, as befits a selection of summer tunes. Cloud 9’s anthemic “How Shall I Rock Thee?”; Soul Central’s (featuring Kathy Brown) gospel-influenced “Strings of Life”; Havana Funk’s groovy Brazilian “Bakiri Ban“ and Belezamusica’s soulful “U Got Me Spinning” are all held together by DJ @llen’s turntable expertise.
High Note Records

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

Jolin Tsai’s popularity is inversely proportional to the size of the mini-shorts she wears on the sleeve of Dancing Diva. At the tender age of 18, this Taipei-born singer broke into the entertainment industry, and after eight years of catchy chart toppers (and fine-looking photos), Tsai, the “Teenage Boy Killer”, has won a strong fan base throughout Asia – and the US. Dancing Diva, released in May, is her first album with EMI/Capitol Music, and at first listen something of a letdown. The album’s tagline – “Trend setting! 39 perfect mins!” – is a wild exaggeration. In fact, this CD offers ten, less than perfect tracks of hip hop, R&B, dance and saccharine pop that set no new trends, except, perhaps for pastel-blue pants. That said, all ten cuts are so easy on the ear that 39 minutes seems almost too brief. Take “Dancing Diva”; this slick dance number, with its Middle-Eastern influence, is only three minutes long, barely enough time to warm up the dance floor. Duration aside, other tracks offer rock fused with break beats, “Mr. Q”; funk, fun and rap, “Nice Guy”; or classic Mando-pop, with violin and emotional choruses, “The Finale”.
EMI Capitol Music

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

Mr. Zhou’s Melody 967 is undeniably influenced by the brief, but brilliant, Brit Pop of the mid 1990s, acts such as Radiohead, Suede and Pulp. Yet, this is Britpop with Chinese characteristics, as one might expect from a band founded by Beijing-based frontman/singer/guitarist Zhou Fengling and lead guitarist Zhou Guangbin. The band may have been formed just five years ago, but the two Zhous are veterans of the China rock scene. Indeed, Zhou Fengling has been on the scene for nearly two decades. He first won fame back in the golden age of China rock, with bands like The Face and Hearts 5, sharing the stage with the likes of Dou Wei and even Radiohead itself, at memorable gigs in Hong Kong in the 90s. With such a wealth of experience, you might expect Melody 967 to push the boundaries a little more. The melancholic “Peacefully Brilliant” and the mesmeric “Outsider” are admittedly bright pop numbers, but the band never really offers anything that might be called unique. True, the atmospheric, ear friendly tunes sound remarkably like a Brit Pop record of yore – on “Gate” and “Pupil”, Fengling’s falsettos sound uncannily like Thom Yorke’s – but even the melodic guitar attacks and effects are too reminiscent of times past. This is a pleasant enough soundtrack for the summer, but one can’t help but feel that Mr. Zhou (both of them) are capable of much more.
Modern Sky/Badhead

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

When one considers modern Irish folk music, the names that come to mind typically include Sinead O’Connor, Altan and The Corrs. With her delightful brand of folk/country/blues, 31-year-old Ireland-born vocalist Cara Dillon makes a worthy addition to the list. At age 14, Dillon won the All Ireland Traditional Singing Trophy; at 20, she joined what was then the most exciting British folk band Equation, before eventually going solo. Released in February 2006, her third album After the Morning, produced by long time collaborator Sam Lakeman, is arguably her best effort. Whether she’s performing new numbers or covering traditional Irish favorites, Dillon displays considerable flair with catchy melodies and emotional hooks. Both “Never in a Million Years”, which features crystalline vocals atop an acoustic guitar and discreet drums, and “I Wish you Well”, accompanied by virtuoso banjo and a mesmerizing chorus, are instantly memorable. While these cuts offer a fine example of folk and pop crossover, Dillon also refreshes folk classics such as “Brockagh Braes”, “Here’s A Health” and “The Streets of Derry” (a duet with fellow Irishman Paul Brady). To date, with few notable exceptions, Irish country/folk music hasn’t broken much ground beyond the British Isles. Dillon’s albums could very well break those boundaries.
Rough Trade Records

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