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

Lost in Beijing (LIB) revolves around an odd love rectangle, a ménage á quatre, to be precise. It tells the story of two couples living under the same roof, bound by emotional and financial ties. A creation of the young, Shandong-born filmmaker Li Yu (Dam Street,2005), the film offers a unique, albeit awkward, premise that has stirred much controversy at home and abroad.

Two outsiders, Liu Pingguo (Fan Bingbing) and her husband An Kun (Tong Dawei), venture into the big city to search for employment. Liu finds work as a masseuse while An works as a window cleaner. One evening Liu finds herself at a company party and while highly inebriated is abused by her boss Lin Dong (Tony Leung Kar-fai). An witnesses the assault and is furious, yet when he realizes his wife is pregnant, he considers the financial rewards of blackmail. Eventually, Liu, An, Lin and his wife find themselves an unconventional solution.

Li’s third directorial effort focuses on the urban nouveau riche and young rural workers against the backdrop of a fast-changing society. We caught up with 34-year-old Li to discuss just how she became lost in Beijing.

that’s: What inspired you to make this film?
Li Yu (LY): The concept of this film is to explore the value of life in today’s China in the context of its fast-growing economy and material modernization. Film to me is a dream that reflects my feelings about our world. The inspiration comes from my feelings of excitement and also my concern about these changes. Changes in our material circumstances often challenge our priorities in regards to money, love, family and friendship. I just hope that people won’t get confused during this period of transition. I hope this film will not upset people but remind them that there is something else, something that may be more important than money. We have to face reality and think carefully about the importance of love in our lives.

that’s: With its setting and multiple perspectives, LIB would make a good premise for a TV series. Did you have that in mind when you created it?
LY: I don’t know if LIB is suitable for adaptation. I personally don’t like TV series. I was working for CCTV for a while but I mainly shot documentaries. I benefited a lot from that experience in terms of exploring the lives of Chinese.

that’s: How was the experience of working with veteran Hong Kong actor Tony Leung Kar-fai and Chinese mainland actress Fan Bingbing?
LY: Even though I am a young director, I don’t consider these actors as stars. Rather they are partners working together with me to make the film. I respect their experience, but I pay more attention to their attitudes toward the characters. I am thankful for their effort and their contributions to this film.

that’s: Dam Street (which won the C.I.C.A.E. Award at the Venice International Film Festival in 2005) drew much more attention overseas than in China. With LIB were you trying to make a more commercial film for the Chinese audience?
LY: Dam Street could have had better distribution [in China] if we had experience, and worked with a more experienced domestic distributor. In general, I respect the producer (Fang Li) and the way he gave focus and direction to our film even while writing the script. We wanted to share our views with the audience, not just tell them what we think and feel.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
May 2007 issue

Also published in a different form in (c) that's Beijing Magazine
Deputy Chief editor: Oliver Robinson
May 2007 issue

While Chinese screens are often dominated by over-hyped, over-blown, over-budgeted epic films, a new, more subtle, more realistic and ultimately more relevant genre is beginning to emerge. Best described as down-to-earth tragicomedies, this genre places colorful working-class protagonists in tragic situations. Jiang Wen’s In the Heat of the Sun, produced in 1994, was arguably the first, followed by Peacock (Gu Changwei), Still Lives (Jia Zhangke), Getting Home (Zhang Yang) and The Postmodern Life of my Aunt, directed by Ann Hui On-wah.

The latter, set in Shanghai and Anshan (Dongbei), depicts Shanghai as a morally bankrupt city largely populated by shysters. The victim is played by sexagenarian Ye Rutang (Siqin Gaowa), a naïve, kind-hearted Dongbei lass, well schooled in the arts of honesty and citizenship. She thus becomes a magnet for dubious sorts, such as amateur opera singer Xiao Pan (Chow Yun-fat), who cajoles her into lending him money for trachoma meds and non-existent cemetery plots. Then there’s Ye’s roommate, Jin Yonghua (Shi Ke), who throws herself, porcelain vase in hand, in front of oncoming traffic in an effort to bilk insurance companies. Even Ye’s nephew Kuan Kuan (Guan Wenshuo) cons her by faking his own kidnapping to pay for his love interest’s plastic surgery.

This fresh and rambunctious script is the work of prize-winning novelist cum scriptwriter Li Qiang (Peacock) whose meticulous observations of Shanghainese lifestyle add depth and authenticity to the characters, especially its protagonist, Ye Rutang. In one scene, Ye, old-fashioned to a fault, knits herself a full-body swimsuit, but when she plunges into the pool the suit releases a slick of red dye.

“Our ambition was to shoot a movie which was highly entertaining as well as experimental and heartfelt,” says Hui. And that it is.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
May 2007 issue