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

Shanghai, Waiting for Paradise (SWFP) is French journalist/filmmaker Sylvie Levey’s latest exposé of the lives of ordinary people in modern Shanghai. Shot between 2001 and 2006, the 92-minute documentary follows three generations of Chinese living under the same roof in a small apartment on Fangbang Road in Huangpu district. During this period, the family awaits relocation to a new home as their neighborhood faces demolition. It’s this long wait – five years – during which their dreams for a new start clash with harsh urban reality.

Born in the fishing port of Saint-Malo on the northern coast of Brittany, Levey’s interest in China began at the age of 10, after reading Pearl Buck’s novel East Wind, West Wind. Since arriving in Shanghai in 1999, she’s made a series of documentaries on subjects that few foreigners ever experience, including the one-child policy (The Golden Babies, 1999), trans-sexuality (The Unique Destiny of Colonel Jin Xing, 2001) and the women’s penal system (High Crimes in Shanghai, 2005).

SWFP is as intimate as a reality TV show, though it replaces voyeurism with a distinctly humanist point of view. Mixing laughter with tears, and hope with outrage, the film portrays a range of emotions that are as big as life itself. As the camera follows the daily routine of the Wang family before their relocation to a Shanghai suburb, the viewer is treated to a wholly unique work: at times heart-rending, at times comical, a warts and all portrait of an ordinary Chinese family. In the end what emerges is a distinctly Chinese tale, but one that transcends cultural and language differences with its universal appeal.

Despite the difficult topics Levey’s tackled, all her work is made with the consent of local authorities. Fluent in Chinese (she studied Mandarin Chinese in Paris and Taipei), she works without an interpreter to increase the intimacy and understanding she has with her subjects. Known as ‘Le Shiwei’, Levey has been called the “third eye watching China". As an outsider looking at the Middle Kingdom, that third eye has won her multiple awards overseas; the only market where her films are shown.

In our interview at her richly decorated apartment in the former French Concession, Levey discusses how China appears through her camera viewfinder.

that’s: When you arrived in Shanghai in 1999, did the reality match your dreams?
Sylvie Levey (SL): China is always full of surprises. Everything is possible and nothing is impossible. That is what I love about it. But if people come with preconceived ideas, if they seek their imaginary view of China, they won’t find the real China or real people. The key to understanding China is modesty; by being modest you can get as close as possible to the essence of China and its people. What’s more, Chinese respect hard work, courage and dignity; if they feel you have respect for those qualities, then they will appreciate your love of their country. Of course, if you can speak their language, use their sayings and idioms – even with mistakes, they’ll love you even more.

that’s: How does your approach to your work differ from that of other foreign journalists?
SL: I am idealistic and ultra sensitive. I make documentaries from my guts. In most of my work the point of view is subjective, the opposite of what’s taught in journalism schools. I don’t believe in objectivity at all, which for me is meaningless and dull. Subjectivity is my primary interest; the time and money spent on my work is secondary.

that’s: In SWFP, this subjectivity is even more manifest than in your previous films.
SL: That’s because the subjects of this film, the Wang family, are my friends. I shot the film without using a third party, so my relationship with them was direct. I was like a member of their family, and that’s why the film is so strongly subjective: their view became my view. Initially, I thought about having a Chinese friend handle the camera for me, but I gave up on the idea. It wouldn’t have worked with a Chinese outsider. I was looking for a direct approach because Chinese don’t speak to other Chinese in the same way they do with Westerners. We are from the outside; we are lao wai. What’s more, my film will be shown overseas and not on Chinese television; that was one of the Wangs’ conditions before they agreed to be filmed.

that’s: You made this film over many years. How could you be sure that you wouldn’t miss key moments in the lives of the Wangs?
SL: I always carried a small camera and eventually they became used to it. In the beginning, however, nothing really happened on film. The initial approach was modest; none of us knew where the story would take us. We had some ideas, of course, but fortunately life is unpredictable and so are people.

that’s: In the end, what does your film tell us about Shanghai?
SL: Actually, this film takes the pulse of the city by looking inside the heads of its ordinary Chinese residents. It is a modest attempt to look into the modern Chinese psyche and how it has been affected by what is, at times, overwhelming change. In fact, few works have ever attempted this point of view, with the possible exception of Four Generations under One Roof by the famous Beijing novelist Lao She.

that’s: There’s one sequence near the beginning of the film where the Wangs are watching a news broadcast of the 9/11 attack and making comments that some viewers may find shocking.
SL: It is not for me to judge their comments; my role was to observe. [What they said] was what they thought at the time. I admit I was very surprised by what they said, and there is indeed a risk that some viewers will be offended. Too bad for them. My films are not made to please Western audiences; if they were I’d be making reality TV shows. I’d also be richer, and would own a car and a flat. In the West, there are two caricatures of China: one as an ultra-liberal market where we can make billions. That image, of course, has no human face. The second portrays China as a gray zone for human rights. In my film, I didn’t want to follow these stereotypes even though my raison d’etre as a filmmaker is to work on the edge. What I wanted to do with this film was to introduce the Wang family and China to the West. Like the films of Jia Zhangke and Yasujirô Ozu, I want to tell stories that have universal appeal, the sort of appeal that allows the viewer to sympathize with the characters. My brother Christian, who’s neither into my films nor into China, watched my documentary and said he could identify with the Wangs as fellow human beings and as friends.

that’s: There are echoes in your film of Jia Zhangke’s Still Life, which also deals with destruction and relocation.
SL: When I watched Still Life in a Paris theater, I was struck by how his actors act out the lives of ordinary people on screen. It reminded me that my characters are also actors in their own lives. Jia’s films blend cinema and documentary, fiction and reality. I love his work because it has a humanistic dimension; it’s not propaganda. His characters are human and their story is powerful. He shows China as it is today.

that’s: In your film you followed the story of the Wangs between 2001 and 2006. In the end you produced 180 hours of footage.
SL: Yes, it was crazy and very expensive to produce and then edit 180 hours of film, but I have no regrets. During the years of filming, I was permanently ready. Sometimes I captured nothing and other times I found magic: poetry, misfortune, anger and smiles. Clearly, this took a lot of patience, but it was both necessary and worthwhile. Of the 180 hours of film much was left in the editing room. For example, I spent a lot of time shooting the pavement stones in the courtyard, and the doors, corridors, etc. I could have produced a 60-minute silent film on Old Shanghai streets. At times, I was obsessed with these streets and even dreamed of finding a millionaire to rescue them from demolition. Of course, these scenes did not make the final cut.

that’s: In one scene in your film, a passerby stops, looks directly into your camera and scolds you for filming common people in a poor neighborhood. He thinks you should be showing modern China to the world, and he has a good point. Many Westerners only want to see the old China, which they see as colorful and exotic despite the poverty.
SL: There is no misery in my films, but it’s true that some viewers do expect what might be termed a sensationalist view of China. A friend of mine, Li Xiao from the Shanghai Media Group (SMG), once told me that he went to a festival in France where an amateur Chinese filmmaker presented a film on the killing of a pig. It was horrible; the pig was purposely slaughtered slowly to produce a reaction from the viewer. My friend felt nauseous, but the film attracted a big audience who wanted to reinforce their stereotyped view of Chinese as a cruel people. However, my films will not appeal to these people; for me, dignity and respect are important.

that’s: What’s next?
SL: I’m working on two projects. One is in Beijing the other in Shanghai. I don’t want to say too much right now, but one of them is a personal project about the Chinese television industry, in particular CCTV.

SWFP premiered at the Istanbul International 1001 Documentary Film festival in October 2007. For more information visit http://www.sylvielevey.com.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
January 2008 issue

Iris Chang will be remembered as one of the most important human-rights activists and investigative journalists of her time, in the main for bringing a forgotten chapter of history to international attention with the publication in 1997 of The Rape of Nanking which documents the atrocities of December 1937 in the former Chinese capital.

Born in New Jersey, Chang worked at the Associated Press and the Chicago Tribune before devoting her efforts to examining one of the most tragic events of World War II, the Nanking (Nanjing) massacre, an event some historians have compared to the Nazi holocaust. More than just an account of the carnage, Chang’s tome exposes the Japanese Army’s utter disregard for human life, as well as later efforts by the Japanese government to suppress knowledge of what had happened.

The book became an international bestseller and at 29 Chang became a literary celebrity. More importantly, she also became a role model for thousands of Chinese students in the US. Indeed, her book, the first English-language account of the massacre, became mandatory reading in many college classrooms.

This year, the 70th anniversary of the tragedy has inspired more than a half-dozen filmmakers to commemorate its victims. Bill Guttentag’s Nanking opened in China in July, while Lu Chuan’s Nanking! Nanking! and Roger Spottiswoode’s The Children of Huang Shi are in production. In addition, Simon West, Oliver Stone and Stanley Tong all have scripts in development. That said, one project puts Chang center stage, the Sino-Canadian co-production The Woman Who Couldn’t Forget: The Iris Chang Story. This feature documentary employs archival footage, re-enactments and even CGI to allow the viewer to see the story unfold, much as Chang did during her research. The film is directed and produced by seasoned Canadian filmmaker William Spahic and his spouse, Anne Pick, Hot Docs International Documentary Festival founder and award-winning documentary producer-director-writer.

that’s: How did you come up with the idea of a docu-drama blending archival footage with interviews and re-enactments?
William Spahic (WS): We first heard about Nanking from our son Matthew, in grade 10 here in Toronto, who wanted to do a historical assignment on holocausts. We thought that meant the Jewish holocaust in Europe but he chose the Nanking holocaust instead. In helping him proofread his essay we learned about the Nanking massacre. Our research and writing of the script started in July of 2006. In December 2006, we first went to Nanking for the 69th anniversary of the holocaust, where we filmed the remembrance event at the Memorial Hall and interviewed nine survivors and other people. In March 2007, we had a script and returned to Nanjing to film the drama scenes as well as other interviews. In April, we went to Japan and filmed the Japanese perspective. We found a Japanese war veteran who had chilling stories of atrocities he had committed in China. In the same month we filmed in California, New York and Washington.

that’s: Before the release of Chang’s book, how was the Nanking massacre perceived in North America?
WS: As Iris states in her book and we confirm it in our film, the Nanking holocaust was swept under the carpet by all concerned for geo-political reasons. Very few non-Chinese people in North America knew about Nanking. Her book more than any other event changed that forever. Most of the recent spate of documentaries and feature films on the subject credit Iris Chang’s book for opening their eyes to those terrible events in 1937.

that’s: Why and how did you put Iris Chang at the center of the film?
WS: We’re the only film that has Iris as the central character, thanks to an exclusive agreement with her parents Chang Ying-Ying and Shau-Jin. We also interviewed and talked to her husband and her friends and colleagues. By getting to know Iris, the audience will, through her eyes, get to know and understand the Nanking massacre on an emotional level that goes well beyond a standard documentary primarily using archival footage. Modern day audiences have built-in emotional filters against such emotional exposure. We wanted to reach our audience on that same emotional level, i.e., personal and emotional, as the people who went through and survived the atrocity. There is no other way of looking at it.

that’s: Indeed, Chang was emotionally and personally involved.
WS: Iris had just completed but not published her first book, Thread of a Silkworm and was looking for a subject for her next book. She was aware of the Nanking massacre from her parents, whose families narrowly escaped before the Japanese took Shanghai and Nanking. She saw pictures of the atrocities and realized for the first time that she was witnessing real people’s lives at the very moment of their deaths. She did not perceive them as nameless statistics or objective historical events but as real human beings in real tragic events. She determined to do something about it. Iris was deeply influenced by what she found in China on her research trip, especially interviewing about a dozen survivors. That left a deep emotional motivation for her to write the book. After she wrote the book and later in life, she became a human rights crusader. On her grave [she committed suicide in 2004] there is an epitaph stating she was a human rights crusader.

that’s: Is the film difficult to watch?
Anne Pick (AP): We do make a conscious effort not to sensationalize the graphic archive but we choose not to shy away from it either. Some of the images are hard to watch and we are careful where and how we use them and how long they are on screen. But it was those very images that finally convinced Iris that she had to tell their stories. We hope in our film it is the emotional aspect we are underlining, not the gore.

that’s: Talk about Olivia Cheng, who portrays Iris Chang.
WS: Olivia has the same qualities that Iris had: determination, drive, intelligence and beauty. She even resembles Iris. In fact, when we filmed a scene with Olivia interviewing Professor Wang in Nanking in March 2007 [he was one of the people who helped Iris research her book in 1995], Wang completely forgot that he was talking to Olivia and kept calling her Iris and telling her that she needed to write the book. We are very happy to have found Olivia to play the part of Iris, especially since we inter-cut video interviews of the real Iris and our actress throughout our film. The cutting back and forth is seamless.

that’s: Did you encounter any difficulties when shooting in China and Japan?
WS: We had full co-operation in Nanjing and the Jiangsu Province Foreign Affairs authorities were very helpful. The hardest part was listening to the tragic stories the survivors had to tell. It had the same impact on us as on Iris when she interviewed survivors in 1995. Several times our crew would break down and weep when they heard the sad stories from our survivors. Similar to Iris’s experience, we also felt they were our motivation for making the film and they drive our narrative. But what amazed us all is that they bore no ill feelings toward the Japanese people. All they wanted was the recognition of what happened to them and above all they wanted peace in the world. Japan, on the other hand, was a mixed experience. For example, one war veteran also felt the need to tell his story because he did not want this type of tragedy to happen again. And we found people sympathetic to getting the truth told. But then we interviewed a right-wing nationalist who denied everything. That was hard to take. Emotionally, it is not an easy film to make.

AP: Japan needs to come clean, take ownership and stand accountable for its Imperial Army’s actions in the Pacific theater, China and Korea during WW II.

WS: We are not interested in making a political film. We are making a documentary about a brave young woman who dealt with bigger issues. Our motivation for making the film was the same Iris had for writing the book. And I quote her: “That beneath the thin veneer of civilized society lies a darker side of human nature.” We must always be on guard because if the darker side rises to the top as it did in Nanking many human lives are affected. All she wanted and all that the Chinese survivors we met want is recognition of what happened by way of a sincere and meaningful apology, some reparation to the victims and above all, to teach the true facts of Nanking in Japanese schools.

that’s: How will your film stand out from other films made this year about the massacre?
WS: Our film is the only film that tells Iris’s story and by doing that tells the story of Nanking. All Western films on Nanking have been influenced by Iris’s book but ours is the only one to give her the narrative she deserves. And because we are using the docu-drama format we will be able to give the audience the perspective that lets them get to know who Iris was and through her find the emotional door to a truly tragic and horrific event. We’re hoping to have a premier in Nanjing in December 2007 and with the help of the curator at the Nanjing Memorial Hall, we will have a screening and a permanent exhibit there.

For more information on Iris Chang see http://irischang.net.
2007 marks the 70th anniversary of the Nanking massacre, the 10th anniversary of the publication of The Rape of Nanking and the 3rd anniversary of the death of Iris Chang.

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

More powerful than a locomotive, Superman Returns’ producer Chris Lee is surprisingly mild-mannered

As soon as Chris Lee knew he’d be joining the Superman Returns' production team, he rushed to his local comic book store and invested nearly USD 400 in back issues. Though not a great fan of the superhero from Krypton (he prefers The Batman), the 50-year-old Hawaii-born film producer needed to do his homework. Which is to say he had to study the 70-decade long evolution of the Man of Steel. Clearly, the man’s a professional.

A Hollywood executive and former president of motion picture production at both Tri-Star Pictures and Columbia Pictures, Lee’s supervised many Academy Award-winning films and box office hits. A large number of which featured A-list actors (Jerry Maguire with Tom Cruise; Philadelphia with Tom Hanks; My Best Friend’s Wedding with Julia Roberts; Legends of the Fall with Brad Pitt, etc.,). Along the way, he’s not only mastered the production of large, big budget films, but the technical requirements of computer generated imagery (CGI) on projects such as Final Fantasy, Starship Troopers, and Godzilla.

What sets him apart from his producing peers in Tinseltown is his passion for the art itself, and his willingness to share his filmmaking experiences with film students and fellow cineastes alike. In addition, there’s something about Lee that one might call unique, at least in the film industry. Despite his obvious success, he remains true to his roots, and his friends.

In 2002, Lee left the Hollywood fast lane to return to Hawaii, where he founded the Academy for Creative Media (ACM). In cooperation with ten campuses affiliated with the University of Hawaii, ACM offers a platform for indigenous voices to tell their stories, via films and video games, to the broadest possible audience. In the four years since the academy was established, it now offers a total of 27 courses to 200 students.

Lee has also lent a helping hand to numerous mainstream projects wherever they may be. He was creative producer on Bryan Singer’s (X-Men) Superman Returns, released this summer in China, and co-producer of Chen Daming’s (Manhole) comedy One Foot off the Ground (OFOTG).

Superman Returns, the fifth episode in the franchise, is Lee’s second collaboration with long-time friend, Singer. One of the most eagerly anticipated films of this summer, the film cost USD 200 million and doubled its money in worldwide gross profits.

In contrast, Chinese actor-director Chen Daming’s second directorial effort, OFOTG is a character-driven, small budget film, with no SFX and, of course, lower financial expectations. Regardless, while putting the last spin on Superman Returns in Australia in 2005, Lee assisted in the pre- and the post-production of Chen’s bittersweet tale shot in local dialect in Kaifeng (Henan province). OFOTG concerns the vanishing glory of traditional opera. Lee’s expertise in customizing films for multiple markets has already helped Chen achieve international notice, not an easy task for a zany, if quaint, comedy. The film was screened this autumn at several prestigious European film festivals (Spain’s San Sebastian; Greece’s Thessaloniki) to much acclaim, and will open in the Chinese mainland next month.

In our interview with Chris Lee, he offers insights into the filmmaking process, both Hollywood style and in China.

that’s: You graduated from Yale University with a degree in political science. How does that apply to the entertainment industry?
Chris Lee: I think one of the great advantages of a school like Yale is that your major need not determine your future. That said, I did plan to become a lawyer or political consultant, but my first job ended up being in television – for ABC’s Good Morning America [a morning news talk show first broadcast in 1976].
When I decided television wasn’t for me, I tried film, working with [Hong Kong-born, US-based] director Wayne Wang on his second movie, Dim Sum: A Little Bit of Heart (1985), which featured an 18-year-old Joan Chen. I worked as assistant director (AD), apprentice editor and various other jobs that come with low budget filmmaking. I decided being an AD and an editor weren’t for me, so I headed for Hollywood proper and got a job as a script analyst for Tri-Star Pictures which eventually led to my position of president of production for that studio.

that’s: What’s your advice to Chinese filmmakers eager to break into Hollywood?
CL: What a broad question! And at the same time, what a specific one, because I don’t think anyone coming to Hollywood is going to have the same experience as anyone else.
What often separates the success stories [from the failures] is the individual’s ability to market themselves and their tenacity; Hollywood is a very tough town that revels in rejection and failure. You need a very thick skin if you want to survive and prosper. You also have to learn from the inevitable failures and not get too discouraged.
My suggestion is to remember the maxim that it’s important to get your foot in the door any way you can; be an intern, be an assistant, go to parties and meet as many people as you can. And know that you need to both make as many friends as possible and be as wary as you can. Also, agents and managers do have the ability to be enormously helpful. Always try to find a mentor and listen to others’ experiences.

that’s: You were a creative producer on Superman Returns. Can you explain that title?
CL: Good question. Everyone knows what a director does, or an editor, cinematographer, etc. But producers play many roles and have many titles: producer; executive producer; co-producer; etc. In my case, I was the creative producer for both the studio [Warner Bros.] and Bryan Singer, and served as the chief liaison between the two. I was with Bryan all the time, involved in everything from script, casting, to second-unit work, marketing and publicity. I wasn’t a ‘line’ producer which is to say, I didn’t come up through the ranks of the talented people who know how to physically ‘run’ a picture. But I was responsible for making sure Bryan had smooth sailing every day.

that’s: Superman is an icon. What challenges were there working on a film with such a well-known character?
CL: There are 70 years of history connected to Superman, so you really want to make sure you get it right. That means honoring the legacy and roots of the characters, but it also means, after an absence of 20 years on the big screen, re-establishing the franchise for an entirely new generation. The fans are, of course, quite vocal on their likes and dislikes and while we of course listen to them, Bryan wanted to try some things that had never been done before – but always with tremendous respect and love for what made Superman great in the first place.

that’s: You also produced OFOTG. Was it difficult moving from a Hollywood blockbuster to a low budget Chinese comedy?
CL: Well, they [the two projects] actually happened simultaneously. Chen Daming is an old friend of mine, but I’ve always known him as an actor. He has been my host in China on several occasions, even translating for me when I guest lectured at the Beijing Film Academy. I was pleasantly surprised when he wrote and directed Manhole (2004), which I thoroughly enjoyed. He asked me to read an early draft of OFOTG and I just loved the characters and asked if I could work on it, developing the script with him. Together, via the Internet mostly, we worked on focusing the story and the comedy and emotion. Then he got financing from the [Beijing-based] Huayi Brothers to make it. I was in Sydney at the time doing Superman Returns, so I couldn’t go to Kaifeng for any of the shooting. But I went to Beijing in January [2006] and worked on the final cut with [producer] Henry Wang. Then in April I went to Bangkok to supervise the sound mix at Technicolor. I’m very proud to be involved and look forward to making more movies with Chen Daming.

that’s: What sort of film is OFOTG?
CL: It’s very much a comedy with heart. If I had to categorize it I’d say it’s similar to Four Weddings and a Funeral (Mike Newell, 1994) with multiple story lines, laughter and tears.
It is very Chinese, but it’s very universal as well. It’s about surviving in changing times and dealing with the people we love. The conflicts and dilemmas are recognizable for any audience. Yet I was [also] excited by the opportunity to make a film about contemporary Chinese society. There are already enough martial arts epics and woeful villagers' movies – these are characters I think Chinese audiences will embrace as their own.

that’s: How familiar are you with the work of OFOTG’s investors, the Wang brothers of Huayi Brothers (The Banquet; A World Without Thieves)?
CL: They’re interested in actually developing a script before shooting it and applying marketing to selling them. They seem very supportive of their filmmakers. I know that they’re very successful and I enjoy working with them. I think they’re mostly successful because they’re audience driven; they’re not interested in making films just for the filmmakers. They remind me of Hollywood producers in that way.

that’s: How can Chinese cinema benefit from foreign expertise?
CL: I think script development could help some filmmakers. I also think better marketing would bring the films to a broader audience. Again, I’m sure there are many ways to define ‘Chinese cinema’ but as a Hollywood producer, I am always interested in pictures that speak to the broadest audience.

that’s: There’s a growing trend in Chinese films to use more CGI effects? Is that progress?
CL: CGI’s just a tool, and it can certainly be overused as it is in many Western films that just end up looking like cartoons or video games. It’s more important to care about the stories and characters. You know, some of my favorite Hong Kong pictures were things like A Chinese Ghost Story (Tsui Hark, 1987) and The Storm Riders (Andrew Lau, 1998), which used all kinds of SFX to tell their stories. So I think there’s a history in Chinese cinema to use SFX. And I think CGI provides an opportunity to tell many of the mythical stories of Chinese folklore in ways that could not be done before – similar to what we do with our superhero films.
I love what Zhang Yimou did with CGI in Hero (2002) and also House of Flying Daggers (2004). I loved the use of color and the CGI sets.

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

In late November last year, a statue of Bruce Lee was erected in the Bosnian city of Mostar. One resident said the martial arts’ icon was equally popular on all sides of the conflict in the former Yugoslavia, in other words, a symbol of universal peace. ”We will always be Muslims, Serbs or Croats,” said Veselin Gatalo of the youth group Urban Movement Mostar. “But one thing we all have in common is Bruce Lee.”

In light of such widespread appeal, it should come as no surprise that film director Antti-Jussi Annila, aka A-J Annila has produced the first ever Finnish kung fu flick. After all, he’s been hooked on the genre since he was a boy. In the summer of his tenth year, he viewed a martial arts movie 36 times. That’s enough to traumatize a kid for life. And to sow the seeds of an unconditional passion for kung fu and wu xia pian (a film genre derived from wu xia or Chinese ‘martial-arts chivalry’ literature).

Now 29, Annila has translated his passion to the screen with Jade Warrior (JW, Jadesoturi), a work five years in the making, but one that he’s been preparing for decades. As a youth, he borrowed the family video camera to make his first action-packed films. Later, at the School of Art and Media in Tampere, Finland, he applied his obsession with swordplay, high kicks and flying chops to five short films which he wrote and directed. Entitled Hard Student 1-5, they were shown at several domestic film festivals. His thesis, if you haven’t guessed already, was based on Hong Kong action films.

Since graduating in 2002, Annila has pursued his dream in earnest, working full-time to bring his first feature-length film to fruition. To do so, he sought and won creative and monetary support from film professionals in Finland and China, but also in Estonia and Holland. In this first ever Finland-China co-production, Annila blends Finnish mythology with Chinese martial arts, and he highlights this unusual combination by setting the story in ancient China as well as in modern-day Finland. The RMB 27.5 million (USD 3.4 million) sword and romance film was shot in location in Finland, Estonia and China (in Fangyan, Zheijiang Province, 500 km north-east of Shanghai).

The plot concerns an ancient Chinese warrior, Sintai, (played by Finnish actor Tommi Eronen from Producing Adults) who while battling a Chinese demon (Cheng Taishen from Jia Zhangke’s The World), falls in love with an equally deadly Chinese beauty named Pin Yu (China’s rising starlet Zhang Jingchu from Peacock and Seven Swords). So far, so good. But from this point on, the story becomes rather more complicated. Sintai not only loses his loved one, but also loses track of her. He takes up the quest after being reincarnated as a blacksmith (Kai) in contemporary Finland.

As mentioned above, the storyline stems from Finnish legend, namely the Kalevala, and from the tradition of Chinese martial art films. The Kalevala is a 19th-century Finnish epic poem of 22,795 verses and 50 chapters, wherein rugged Norse warriors pine for battle, as well as the love of a good woman. Needless to point out, this work alone offers the director plenty of melodramatic material. But add to the mix the graceful representations of flying bodies engaged in swordplay and other kung-fu staples and you’ve got something altogether unique.

Last month, Jade Warrior premiered in the Vanguard category at the 31st Toronto International Film Festival. The film has been sold in 20 territories (from Japan to Poland) by France-based Rezo Films International, and will be released by Warner China Film HG Corporation in China this month.

In our interview with Annila, he discusses his love of the martial arts’ genre and its influence on his craft.

that’s: You seem to have spent your youth living in a sort of fantasy world.
Antti-Jussi Annila (AJA): In my childhood, I spent my time in the forest with nothing but a knife as if I were the son of Tarzan. When I was ten, I watched Sam Firstenberg’s Revenge of the Ninja [1983] with Shô Kosugi 36 times in one summer. When I was twelve, I dreamed to someday win the Wimbledon tennis tournament. I still have that dream, though I haven’t played tennis for years.

that’s: What are your favorite Chinese movies?
AJA: There are a lot of them: Tsui Hark’s Once a Upon a Time in China; Liu Chia-liang’s 36th Chamber of Shaolin; Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Eat Drink Man Woman; Wong Kar-wai’s In the Mood for Love; and John Woo’s The Killer.

that’s: What attracts you to wu xia pian?
AJA: I love the melodrama and the melancholic portrayal of emotions in wu xia pian, as well as the way emotions are connected with action scenes. In the original kung fu films, the action often feels separated from drama, but in wu xia pian they seem to go hand in hand; feelings and drama are conveyed through physical movements. Wu xia pian also has a lot of fantasy elements, and I love stories that blend emotion and fantasy. This doesn’t happen in real life, yet this film genre offers feelings you can also experience in real life.

that’s: Wu xia pian is a Chinese art form. Is there a Finnish version?
AJA: My inspiration for the story came from the Kalevala, but the idea to set it in ancient China came from my love for Chinese wu xia pian. And I discovered that these two sources of inspiration are really close to each other. The film is a mixture of the two cultures. It is not Chinese or Finnish; it’s a combination of both. JW is a melodramatic love story, with elements of Finnish and Chinese myth, and action scenes inspired by the wu xia pian genre. It is the first of its kind, and I hope it will come across as something different.

that’s: How do you merge wu xia pian and Finnish myth?
AJA: I have been watching kung fu and wu xia films since I was a young boy. Wu xia pian is a form of Chinese action film that visualizes themes such as the way of the warrior, courage, hate and love. Our national epic Kalevala could also be described as such; the men are very skillful warriors in battle but they’re totally incapable in love affairs. Which seems to fit quite well into the wu xia pian world.

that’s: Time travel is another unusual element in the film. Why is JW set in ancient China and present-day Finland?
AJA: The story has elements of reincarnation, so from the beginning, in pre-production, we set the story in ancient times and the present. The connection between ancient China and contemporary Finland is [represented by] an iron chest that travels with our hero [Sintai/Kai]. Kai is a blacksmith stuck in the past and living in seclusion on the edge of an industrialized city. His forge is a gate revealing visions from ancient China, what really happened in the past and whom he can trust in the present. The connection is not only material but also spiritual, because our main character really sees and feels his memories from his past life in ancient China. We tried to make these worlds and times connect in material and spiritual ways, so, no matter how far apart they are, they’d fit into the same story.

that’s: Why did you cast Zhang Jingchu as the character Pin Yu?
AJA: We wanted to find an actress who could be strong and vulnerable at the same time. We didn’t want to cast somebody just based on their name and star-power. At the casting session, Zhang Jingchu stood out amongst other Chinese actresses – all of them were really good. But after the screen test, I was sure she was the one. And I think she was excellent in her performance.

that’s: The warrior Sintai isn’t played by a Chinese actor. Why?
AJA: The story stems from the Kalevala and the main plot happens in Finland, so the lead actor portraying Kai is Finnish (Tommi Eronen). The same actor is also present in the Chinese part of the story as Sintai. Sintai’s father is Chinese but his mother is Finnish; he is a son of two nations. The main character is a fusion of two cultures – like the film itself. Our hero is based on Kalevala’s heroes but has a story of his own. He is not a typical hero from an action film; he’s a man with multiple flaws. He fights against his destiny – like we all do sometimes.

that’s: How did you design the fighting scenes with Chinese action-choreographer Yu Yan-kai?
AJA: We didn’t have any specific movies in mind because we wanted to make our own style, mixing Chinese kung fu and Finnish fighting. Yet, following the tradition of the wu xia genre, [we let] the actors perform the action scenes themselves, which gives their movement authenticity. The action idealizes movement and the beauty of battle rather than violence. We also designed the action choreography to reflect the drama. The fight scenes are not just action, but also narrative elements. They set the pace for the melodramatic story.

The weapons vary from spears to swords, from birch branches to iron fans, from chopsticks to smith hammers. The skills of smiths and warriors aren’t that different after all, and here they finally become one. The ultimate battle between the demon and Sintai/Kai is waged with hammers and anvils. What’s more, all the action sequences have an element of difference. Sometimes the action is like a dance between two lovers; sometimes it’s really brutal between two enemies.

that’s: Are you feeling satisfied now that your dream has become reality?
AJA: JW is a dream come true. To bring together [my] culture with the culture I have come to love has been an adventure. I hope this feeling is conveyed in the film. My [next] humble dream is to someday direct a ninja musical. After that, around year 2029, I hope to have more time to spend on my favorite hobbies: clearing the forest, cutting down trees and working on something really concrete, like a tree house, for example, one similar to Tarzan’s.

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

Lei Feng (*) would not approve. In Shanghai, the shining citadel of modern China, it seems that fundamental values – civility, courtesy and selflessness – have all but vanished. In short, the model citizen spirit, prizing good manners and high ethical standards is on the endangered list. In its place, one finds the hustler, whose conduct is governed by the law of the concrete jungle: every man for himself.

To be fair, Shanghai is not the only city suffering from a lack of feeling for one’s fellow man. But such is the depth of the problem that the authorities have taken action. Recently, city officials have arranged public seminars on etiquette, and reinforced the message with a number of publications, including the good manners manual, A Million Families Learning Etiquette, and Recognizing Phonies, a consumer’s handbook that might have helped Lei Feng spot bogus beggars unworthy of his goodwill. Even ‘Little Emperors’ and ‘Little Princesses’ are now being instructed to employ the all-but obsolete phrase “thank you, Mum” or “thank you, Dad”. And not least, there is the anti-corruption campaign.

The success of these efforts remains to be seen, but in the meantime Shanghai’s moral dissipation has provided material aplenty for Hong Kong-based filmmaker Ann Hui. Her latest film, The Postmodern Life of my Aunt, opens nationwide this December, and features a cast of reprobates straight out of The Threepenny Opera.

With all the ingredients that have won praise at home and abroad by critics and viewers alike, The Postmodern Life of my Aunt is an exceptionally good, character driven comedy-drama, albeit one that is suffused with topical societal issues.

Hui’s 21st film revolves around a 60 year old woman, Ye Rutang (award-winning Mongolian ethnic actress Siqin Gaowa), who after losing her job leaves her hometown, the northeast post-industrial city Anshan (and incidentally Hui’s birthplace), for Shanghai. Ye’s trusting nature is severely tested in sin city where she falls victim to a series of scam artists who aim to cheat her out of her life’s savings. The list of con men includes her 12 year old nephew (Guan Wenshuo), who fakes his own kidnapping to extract pocket money from his aunt; a charming opera singer (Chow Yun-fat, absent from Chinese productions for six years) who deals in the futures market for funeral plots, and Ye’s new neighbor (Shi Ke), who claims she needs cash to pay her daughter’s hospital bills. Eventually Ye is bled dry, forcing her reluctant daughter (TV heartthrob Zhao Wei) to come to the rescue.

Adapted from the eponymous novel by Yan Yan, the film portrays Shanghai as a moral vacuum, where only the most ruthless types can survive. At first, this jaundiced view might peg Hui as a cynic, but beneath its bleak surface this film reveals Hui’s sympathy for victim and exploiter alike. “Shanghai is an extreme representation of all the fast-moving cities in the world,” says Hui, “and the fate of all those people who cannot catch up, those who can, and the marginalized.”

Indeed, as with all the films Hui has made in the past 20 years, Postmodern Life is about people – and for people. “I’d call Ann Hui’s films examples of ‘humanistic cinema’,” says David Bordwell, author of Planet Hong Kong: Popular Cinema and the Art of Entertainment (Harvard University Press, 2000) and Professor Emeritus of Film Studies at the University of Wisconsin. “She’s less interested in technical experiments or physical action than in psychological dramas that reveal unexpected sides of human beings.”

Put another way, Hui has remained true to her ideals. Like other members of the so-called New Wave of Hong Kong directors that came of artistic age in the late 70s, she studied abroad and then worked for television before directing feature films. The New Wave, she jokes, was “an injection of new life into the mainstream cinema”. New Wave refers to the earlier French film movement of the 60s, though its Hong Kong incarnation was in reaction to escapist Mandarin-language studio-based productions – read fantasy kung fu films – rather than French conservatism.

“New Wave filmmakers sought to forge a new vision for Hong Kong cinema, focusing on local subjects, relevant to people’s lives, and spoken in the language people could understand – Cantonese,” says Assistant Professor of Contemporary Chinese Cultural Studies at the Santa Barbara University of California Michael Berry, who interviewed Hui for his book Speaking in Images: Interviews with Contemporary Chinese Filmmakers (Columbia, 2005).

In the mid-1970s, Hui shot dozens of documentaries and TV dramas before successfully turning to feature filmmaking with The Secret (1979), The Spooky Bunch (1980) and The Story of Woo Viet (1981). The New Wave movement, it must be said, lasted just a couple of years, but Hui’s work has maintained its relevance, first to the people of Hong Kong and later to their compatriots on the Chinese mainland. No matter the genre.

Hui has directed ghost stories, political dramas, martial arts epics, romantic melodramas and comedies. “From the start she tried to make genre films that carried a personal touch,” says Bordwell, adding that her vision is distinct in genre.

Perhaps because she considers film something more than just a commercial entertainment. Hui has often said that she is not a very social person, so it may be that the medium offers her a means of expression; a proxy for life, if you will. In the 1950s, she was sent to an English primary school which did wonders for her command of that language, though at the expense of her Chinese. That said, Hui’s fluency is best expressed visually. In Berry’s book, she revealed that she views cinema as a language, one that can be understood universally, and one that helps her to express herself on contemporary issues.

That command of visual language is evident in films such as Summer Snow and Visible Secret, both of which happened to be commercial successes. There were failures, too. Ordinary Heroes (1999) was lauded by the critics, but it lost HKD 5 million. After which Hui was unable to attract investors and forced to take a teaching job for the next two years. In spite of all her festival awards and critical acclaim, she’s often had trouble financing her films. “It’s very difficult for me to find money in Hong Kong for the kind of films I make,” says Hui. Indeed, at one point, such was the parlous state of her finances that she couldn’t afford an office.

Still, she never sold out. Hui’s humanist approach to filmmaking is, as Bordwell says, “a consistent factor in her career”. Which is not to imply her work is repetitive. In addition to moral issues, exile is a recurring theme in her films (Song of the Exile; Love in a Fallen City) which is not surprising considering her background. Born in 1947 in Anshan, Hui’s father is Chinese, her mother, Japanese. She grew up in Hong Kong where she graduated in English and Comparative Literature in 1972. In 1974, she studied at the London Film School before returning to Hong Kong to work on TV productions. In 1990, she made the abovementioned Song of the Exile (1990) starring Maggie Cheung, a film with strong autobiographical elements. The story is built around Hui’s relationship with her Japanese mother, and their shared search for an identity, no easy task considering the post-war relations between China and Japan.

Likewise, The Postmodern Life of my Aunt is a study of identity and exile. Ye Rutang, a native of Anshan and the product of an era strikingly different from modern Shanghai, is also caught between two cultures. Granted, Hong Kong, or indeed any large city, might have served just as well as Shanghai as a symbol of moral decadence. But with financial backing coming largely from Cheerland Entertainment Organization, Class Ltd., and Beijing PolyBona Film Distribution Co., Ltd. – the setting, for marketing and monetary reasons, had to be set in a city on the Chinese mainland. And so Shanghai was the obvious choice (audiences will note scenes shot in Changfeng Park and along Sichuan North Road).

Unfamiliar with Shanghai, Hui commissioned prize-winning novelist Li Qiang (Peacock) to write a screenplay based on elements peculiar to the city. In the end, however, Hui discovered that “the Shanghainese way of life is very much similar to the Hong Kong lifestyle. Since the early 1950s,” she says, “many Shanghainese came to Hong Kong and chic Hong Kongers adopted, at least in part, a Shanghainese style in terms of clothing, entertainment and food.”

Hui regards consumerism, and the accompanying change in social values, as the inevitable consequence of any fast-growing economy. “Present day Shanghai,” she says, “is reviving the [consumer] lifestyle, and along with it the 1970s/1980s Hong Kong spirit of go-getting.”

Needless to say, the anything goes attitude is part of the parcel.

Although contemporary Shanghai serves to exemplify the materialism and venality of a developing society, Hui doesn’t judge its inhabitants too harshly. “The film begins in a light-hearted way,” she explains, “then moves towards tragedy, but it never quite reaches its grandeur.”
END

(*) Lai Feng was a soldier of the People's Liberation Army. After his death he was characterized by propaganda as a selfless and modest person who was devoted to Chairman Mao. His lifestory was used as an education tool for the masses.

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

For those in the film industry, thinking outside the box often appears to be mission impossible. Actors, particularly after they’ve won an award, are easily typecast. Directors, well, once they have a hit in one genre, are expected to follow suit. Take, for instance, the actor Liu Ye, who is forever cast in the role of weak coward. Or director John Woo, who is stuck with action films despite his decade-long desire to make musicals.

Yet Academy Award-nominated independent documentary filmmaker Christine Choy (Cui Ming Huei) has artfully avoided labels. Although many have tried to define her. The Shanghai-born, 53-year-old might be variously described as “a versatile artist”, “a hip teacher”, and “a prolific activist filmmaker” as well as “an open-minded, free-spoken lady”. Indeed, she’s an attention-grabbing speaker, one who never runs dry of anecdotes.

In the 1970s, Choy gave Tsui Hark (Seven Swords) his first script-writing job after he graduated from the University of Texas. She’s also a good friend of Chen Kaige (The Promise), with whom she often argues politics. But in addition to hobnobbing with the industry elite, she teaches film at New York University (NYU) classroom, where she’s nurtured the talents of then unknowns, such as Todd Phillips, Bianca Jagger and Marla Hanson.

Her own journey began early, at eight she left China for South Korea; at fifteen she left her family to study in New York. Later, after receiving a degree in architecture from Princeton University, and another in urban planning from the Columbia University, Choy, in the 1970s, found herself in New York in the company of a group of anti-everything activist filmmakers from the Newsreel film company. It was there that she learned her craft, producing political and militant films on topics Hollywood couldn’t care less about.

Since then, Choy has made more than fifty non-commercial documentary films on a wide range of issues, and in the process given voice to countless individuals who would otherwise never have been heard (or seen). She’s made films about child care (Fresh Seeds in a Big Apple, 1975); civil rights (Who Killed Vincent Chin?, 1988); kung fu (Shaolin: Art of Zen, 1994); the Nanjing massacre (In the Name of the Emperor, 1995); her family home in Shanghai (Ha Ha Shanghai, 2000); and America’s fear of China (Agent Yellow, 2003), to name but a few.

And along the way, she’s won both critical praise, and numerous awards. More recently, she’s returned to Shanghai, and now works at Shanghai Television.

In our interview with Choy, she discusses her career, filmmaking in China, and her enthusiasm for new projects.

that’s: In addition to your film work, you’ve spent considerable time in University both as a student and a professor. What is your attraction to academia?
Christine Choy (CC): One day I woke up and thought about how I might send my children to university as I had no savings. One of my friends said that if I became a university teacher my children could attend for free. At that time, I had already won some [film] awards and was nominated for an Academy Award. I didn’t care about awards, but universities seem to think highly of them. So I was accepted by NYU. I had never taught at university before and I didn’t know what I was doing. [Yet] I was a very popular teacher back then, because I let everybody smoke in the classroom, drink coffee and take their shoes off. I focused a great deal on internationalization, as I believe creative energy has to come from many different perspectives.

that’s: After teaching, you left New York for Hong Kong.
CC: In 1998, the Hong Kong government wanted to set up a school for creative media and asked me to start it. They just had money and a garage. I was born in a Shanghai house designed by American architect Frank Lloyd Wright, went to America, became an architect and came back here to design a garage! Still, I hadn’t been an architect for too long, so the offer to design a whole school made me feel as if I were in heaven.

that’s: Even so, 2001 was a terrible year for you …
CC: In 2001, my contract in Hong Kong City University was over and I left for the US. Then, 9-11 happened and the whole country became sadistic; it was a nightmare. That year was the worst year I ever experienced. I saw people turn very reactionary; Muslims categorized as evil. It was depressing, but what could I do? I did another three years at NYU and then I took a sabbatical and came to Shanghai.

that’s: Are you here permanently?
CC: I like the idea of Shanghai as my hometown. In any case, the stories in the US have dried up, and there is much that is interesting in China. In England or France for example, it took hundreds of years to get industrialized; China was instantly industrialized. As a result, this country is facing a lot of contradictions, and contradictions make good movies! I am glad China produced 350 films last year; more than Hollywood. A lot of them were garbage, a few were good and some films were loved by the audience, like Crazy Stone.

that’s: Recently, the documentary medium seems to have reached a wider audience. Both Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9-11 and Al Gore’s The Inconvenient Truth, for instance, had widespread success.
CC: Scare tactics! They scare you, both Moore and Gore. It’s a very simple formula. Moore is with these gun lovers and describes what’s going to happen and the big man behind it all is Bush, of course! Gore also uses this tactic: “If you don't watch out, you’ll soon see what will happen to the earth -- fifteen years from now, Shanghai will be under the ocean, so let’s do something about it.” It’s all very emotional.

that’s: It’s also very manipulative.
CC: Of course. All movies are manipulative but when it’s manipulative for a good cause I think it’s wonderful.

that’s: You view the documentary film as a quest for truth. That was your aim in films such as Who Killed Vincent Chin?, In the Name of the Emperor and Agent Yellow.
CC: I did. I tried to find an answer. But none of these films actually provides an answer. It gives the audience a direction; audience may decide what is true or not. I give an angle to it, but the angle, of course, is manipulative and is subject to a point of view – mine.

that’s: For In the Name of the Emperor, a film about the Nanjing massacre, you tracked down some Japanese soldiers. How much of the truth did you uncover?
CC: The project began in 1992, but at a time the Koreans and Japanese were investing heavily in China. I couldn’t make the movie at the time because the Emperor of Japan was about to visit China. I was so mad. Later, my producer suggested I go to Shanghai, which is not far from Nanjing. She went to Nanjing, found some survivors and started asking questions. But we couldn’t use their answers because they were uniform. Then I had another crazy idea. I gathered some students from Fudan and Jiaotong Universities in a hotel room, and asked them what they knew about the Nanjing massacre. Guess what? None of them knew anything. Next, a friend of mine who lived in Japan said she knew some soldiers. We went to Japan, very hush hush, drove to a crazy little town in the mountains not far from Tokyo, and went to the soldiers’ homes. After the interviews, I returned to NY, read the transcriptions and found I was sitting on a gold mountain. This was incredible stuff. Later, I got a phone call from an American banker who had some old footage of Japanese soldiers torturing Chinese citizens in Nanjing, and their victims in the hospitals. He gave me that footage. I put it together with the soldier’s testimony. The film was very successful and Iris Chang used the manuscript of the film for her book The Rape of Nanking.

that’s: In retrospect, is it easier to make films in China or in the US?
CC: Financially, it is easier in China because the labor is cheap. But aesthetically the local industry is weak. Their approach is formulaic and they’re not into experiments. In the US, the labor is expensive, but you get what you pay for. A documentary editor in the US costs about USD 3,000 a week and a cameraman about USD 700 a day. But they are really good! And they take their time; they know how to do the details. Here, the editor just needs two days to cut a film. I couldn’t believe it. Soundtrack composition is also weak here. No matter what the film’s subject is, they add piano music or violin solos. Yet China has so many different instruments; it’s musical tradition is so rich, but they never use it. In America, you can mix singing; hip hop; blues; jazz; country music; etc.

that’s: Talk about your current projects in collaboration with the Shanghai television and the Zigen Fund.
CC: The Zigen Fund is a non-governmental organization that has been in China for 20 years. Its main focus is rural areas; they provide educational support to girls from the Miao ethnic minority, for example. At USD 10 a year per person, they have already given support to 17,000 young women, at least up to high school level. None of them were able to go on to college, but they are the first generation of Miao people able to read. The previous generation was illiterate. My film The Shanxi Story deals with rural education in China, while The Guizhao Story is about Miao people and their health issues. In a village [where I shot the film], there is only one doctor. She’s a Miao, trained in Western medicine, but she has to play other traditional roles as well -- she’s a farmer and a mother. She’s a very dedicated woman. I found her story very interesting. It was like a symbol; in times of progress you cannot just get rid of traditions. You need a kind of process so traditions are not cut off. And especially these people, the Miao, who have lived in the same mountainous region for more than 1,000 years. This film is about modernization, what it brings to society, but also about the idea of preserving traditions.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
Photo courtesy Mick Ryan www.mickryan.com.
August 2007 issue

While interviewing New York-based theater and opera director Chen Shi-Zheng, the story of the deadliest shooting in US history on the campus of Virginia Tech, was making headlines around the world. Which proves that truth is stranger than fiction. Granted, the US has long been plagued by expressions of violence, in part because of its notoriously liberal gun laws. But news of the latest massacre added a weird element to the discussion with the Changsha-born director. Chen’s US-financed directorial debut Dark Matter (DM) is based on a similar event that occurred 16 years ago in the University of Iowa.

Indeed, it concerns the real life story of Lu Gang, a Chinese physics student enrolled in a PHD program who shot and killed five people and wounded one before turning the gun on himself in 1991. Yet Chen’s film goes far deeper than the newspaper headlines, exploring cultural shock, unscrupulous academic competition, university politics and disenchantment.

Starring Liu Ye (Curse of the Golden Flower), Meryl Streep (The Devil Wears Prada) and Aidan Quinn (This Is My Father), DM reflects on how young Chinese immigrants struggle to make their mark in a culture that is at once seductive and impenetrable. And how in the process, they often downscale their American dreams to fit American realities. Lu Gang’s on-screen alter ego Liu Xing, played by Liu Ye, is however an extreme example in that he refuses to compromise. A promising physics student, he devotes himself to research on dark matter, an uncharted area of modern astrophysics. Quickly appreciated as a brilliant scholar by his advisors, he nevertheless struggles to grasp the politics and social dynamics of an American university, with tragic results. When his chance of achieving success is dashed by school politics, he unleashes his rage on his former mentor and colleagues.

DM doesn’t focus on the actual killing spree, nor does it offer pat explanations. What’s important here is that Chen fills the gaps before the final showdown using his own experience. He, too, was an uprooted Chinese living and working in the US. And he, too, was torn between admiration and puzzlement.

Before immigrating to the United States in 1987 and graduating from the New York Tisch School of the Arts in performance studies, the now 44-year-old director made a living singing Elvis Presley songs in Mandarin, as well as traditional Chinese operas. Talented and versatile – much like the King – Chen has worked to create new artistic forms of expression as a director, a choreographer, singer and actor. To do so, he has crossed boundaries between music, opera, theater and dance and produced some intriguing variations of the classics (Peach Blossom Fan, The Peony Pavilion, Orfeo, The Return of Ulysses), works that he has staged around the world (France, Denmark, the US, Hong Kong and Singapore). DM, which won the Alfred P. Sloan Prize at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival, is Chen’s opportunity to break out of the theater’s four walls and tell a modern life-and-death story on film.

Below, Chen discusses life in the US, violence, Dark Matter and his latest opera project.

that’s: Many young Chinese dream of studying in the US. Is DM a warning that they should pursue their dreams with caution?
Chen Shi-Zheng (CSZ): I definitely did not make it as a guidebook or warning for Chinese students studying in America, although I hope they will be part of the film’s much wider, global audience. Dark Matter is concerned with disillusionment, power and the urgent importance of really paying attention to each other and trying to understand cultural differences. It’s also about how individuals perceive and react to pressure, and by that I don’t mean just Lu Xing, but also all of the other main characters, and what motivates them to do the things they do.

that’s: The US is seen to embody a culture of violence. Might Lu Gang or the character of Liu Xing have reacted differently in another environment?
CSZ: It is absolutely incorrect to characterize the US as a violent country. Violence happens there, yes, but violence happens everywhere, and there are certainly countries that are far more violent – even in Asia. It’s generally a very peaceful place, which is why the news media focuses so much on violent incidents, giving maybe people outside the US an exaggerated idea about it. I didn’t know Lu Gang, and I doubt that even anyone who did could say how he would or wouldn’t be in different circumstances, or why this happened seemingly so suddenly. In fact, one of the criticisms I’ve gotten about Dark Matter is that there’s no indication before the tragic ending that anything is wrong. From what I have researched about the actual incident, it seems that nobody saw it coming; Lu Gang just suddenly snapped. Even though Liu Xing is a completely fictionalized character, I did try to capture that idea in the film.

that’s: You portray Liu Xing’s attempts to negotiate between his expectations and reality as a failure.
CSZ: Generally speaking, it is very common for anyone who leaves one country for another to have unrealistic expectations. You go because you have extremely high hopes that your life will be better than it was in the country you left. Then it’s a bit shocking to find out that it is not a perfect paradise. How you handle that disillusionment is probably more a matter of personality than anything else. In the case of Liu Xing, he thought he would have complete freedom to make an impact on science and get a lot of support for his work from his idol, his professor, but he ran into a resistance he didn’t expect and the result of course was very tragic.

that’s: How autobiographical is DM?
CSZ: It is not autobiographical. As an artist, of course my own experiences are expressed on some level through my work, and yes, I did (and still often do) feel a sense of dislocation in the US. But I also think that artists generally feel like outsiders wherever they are.

that’s: How might outsiders – Chinese immigrants, for example – prepare themselves for life abroad, especially in the USA?
CSZ: I’ve been in the United States for quite a while now, since 1987. Times have changed both in China and the US since then, and I think that my expectations at the time were probably different from the expectations that young Chinese students have now. Also, you can’t really say that New York City is typical of the US. In NY, there are so many people from so many different races, backgrounds, countries and experiences that in a way you can feel very comfortable there, because everyone is different. In other parts of the country I feel more aware of being Chinese and different from the people who grew up in places like the Midwest. It’s very clear to me, though, that it is crucial for all sides to be open-minded and tolerant of each other’s differences and to realize that we’re all part of the same human race.

that’s: Your three leads – Liu Ye, Meryl Streep and Aidan Quinn – also come from very different backgrounds. How did you integrate their diverse approaches to the film?
CSZ: They were all amazing, and working with them was a great gift I will always treasure. They are completely professional and communicated on the level of brilliant actors. In the theater and opera world I have been mixing Eastern and Western elements together for a long time and have come to understand how the approach in each tradition is fundamentally different. As a director, I am kind of a bridge between them and I ask each side to experiment with the other’s approach. It’s very exciting, because it always creates something completely new and unique that is beyond East meets West.

that’s: Liu Ye is a very versatile actor who has appeared in Chinese blockbusters (The Promise) and art-house films (Lan Yu). What did he bring to the role of Lu Gang?
CSZ: He’s so brilliant and has such great instincts as an actor that I wanted to give him a lot of space to find the core of the character. I also loved the idea that it was his first time in the US and I wanted to capture his real reactions to it, to get a very genuine feel. I didn’t want him to be too rehearsed or studied. I’m really happy with the results; he’s great and he gave a very honest performance.

that’s: This is your first feature film. What differences did you find between working on film and the stage?
CSZ: On the stage everything happens live, so if there is a mistake there is nothing you can do about it. In film you can have multiple takes. But actually, this film was made with such a limited budget and on such a tight schedule – we shot the whole thing in just 21 days in Utah and three days in China – that in itself it was very challenging. The upside is that a film will potentially be seen by many more people. It also exists as a tangible, material thing, whereas with live theater or opera, when it’s over it’s gone.

that’s: Your current project is altogether different. Monkey: Journey to the West is an opera/circus spectacle involving 45 Chinese circus acrobats, vocalists and martial artists.
CSZ: This is a really exciting project. I am working with Gorillaz [the award-winning virtual Brit-pop band], who are an amazingly talented couple of guys [composer Damon Albarn and animation designer Jamie Hewlett] who also happen to be really “hot”, especially with young adults. I wanted to take a new look at this important Chinese classic that is not only serious but also wildly imaginative and fun. I’ve spent the last two years casting the performers for a huge number of roles from among circus companies and other performance groups. Monkey is a combination of live performance and animation, so it is very complicated, and we worked very hard to get it ready for the premier in Manchester, England last June. It will also go to Théâtre du Chatelet in Paris, and then to the State Opera House in Berlin this summer, and I believe also to the Lincoln Center Festival in New York next year.

Special thanks to Kathrin Veser
Photo courtesy of American Sterling Communications LLC

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

Published in a shorter version in that's Beijing
Chief editor: Oliver Robinson
July 2007 issue

Fascinating for some, slow-moving for others, Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation nonetheless struck a chord with audiences. Many viewers could identify with its twin themes of the lack of communication in modern society and how alienating urban environments lead to an aimless existence. Lost’s concept was to thrust a US fifty-something actor (Bill Murray) into an ultra-modern Asian city he doesn’t understand – Tokyo. There, he finds solace with a much younger American woman (Scarlett Johansson) as they help each other realize who they are and who they want to be with.

New York-raised David Ren’s debut feature Shanghai Kiss is also a semi-autobiographical piece that follows the outline of Coppola’s bittersweet drama. However, Kiss finds its own voice as a valentine to Ren’s birthplace – Shanghai. The film concerns a young out-of-work Asian-American actor, Liam (Ken Leung, X Men 3), who turns his back on L.A. to connect with his Chinese ancestry. While in Shanghai, he leaves behind his one true love, Adelaide (Hayden Panettiere, NBC’s Heroes), and pursues a new romance with an older woman, Micki (Asian-American starlet Kelly Hu, The Scorpion King), who forces him to reconsider his Chinese roots.

At which point, Ren might shout, “It’s the story of my life!” Before making the film, he came to Shanghai in search of his own origins. Largely penned by Ren, the script draws from his own experiences as a 22-year-old filmmaker who as a child left China for America, and later, at 16, left New York for Los Angeles to escape his hard-drinking father.

When sharing personal-life vicissitudes on film, such intimate moments should find a framework that resonates with a wide audience. To tell the tale fittingly, Ren teamed with the Konwiser brothers (Miss Evers’ Boys) who co-directed and co-produced Shanghai Kiss in cooperation with China Film Group. Kip and Kern Konwiser is a critically and commercially successful US-based production team with multiple talents as writers, directors and musicians. With their Emmy Award-winning experience in storytelling, they helped Ren weave the comic and dramatic elements into a touching story that is as moving as it is comical.

Kiss is Ren’s attempt to reach out to his father, to communicate and find resolve. However, when the film premiered at the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival in March, his father’s plane was grounded by a snowstorm. Frustrating, yet not surprising, for a filmmaker who uses his art to deal with the tragic ironies of life.

What follows is our interview with directors David Ren and Kern Konwiser, who elaborate on their love for Shanghai, their cooperative work and the quirkiness of fate.

that’s: Where does the film’s concept – a man torn between two cultures, two countries and two women – come from?
David Ren (DR): I wrote this film at a time when my father began to drink more and more heavily. It was becoming increasingly harder to communicate with him. So I moved to L.A. to make sense of my life and we began to grow farther apart. One day, I received a message from him telling me that his mother – my grandmother – was dying and her one wish was for me to go to Shanghai and visit her. At the time, I couldn’t have cared less about Shanghai or where I came from. Growing up in New York, I distanced myself as much as possible from my Chinese heritage, only wanting to be seen as an American. I reluctantly went to Shanghai and it changed my life. I realized that in China, family was the most important thing a person could have and I foolishly threw my family away. I moved to Shanghai for a few months in an attempt to connect with my family and my ancestry. For the first time in my life, I saw the beauty in my culture and I knew that I would always carry my Chinese heritage in my heart and treasure it always. I will always consider myself Chinese, first and foremost, and that is something I’m very proud of.

Kern Konwiser (KK): As his co-director, I felt something universal in the journey of a young man from self-indulgence to self-confidence and, subsequently, to finding genuine love. This was a central theme for us in making the film. To quote from a famous ancient text: ‘If I do not love myself, then who will love me? If I only love myself, then what good am I to others? And if not now, when?’ I always felt that those three questions pretty much tell the emotional narrative of Shanghai Kiss.

that’s: The film pays homage to the ‘Paris of the Orient’.
KK: The script was inspired by David’s time living here, and the film is intended as a love letter to Shanghai. That intent drove so many of our decisions, from shooting in anamorphic 35mm to take in the widest possible panoramas of the city, to selecting our locations. Not only on famous spots like the Bund and Nanjing Road, but throughout the different concessions and neighborhoods.

that’s: Where did you shoot, aside from the Bund and Nanjing Road?
KK: The courtyard and entrance to Liam’s [the main character] apartment is a neighborhood in the French concession. The interior of his apartment with the view of Pudong skylines was built as a set inside a condemned, palatial building at 3 on the Bund. We filmed the exterior of the Jin Mao Tower for Liam’s arrival, but Liam’s hotel room is actually a room on the top floor of the Bank of China building in Pudong. various other locations were found throughout the nine districts of the city.

that’s: How did you work with the director of cinematography, Alex Buono, to capture the spirit and the beauty of Shanghai?
DR: When Alex and I first arrived here, I took him around the city to get a sense of the culture, from the touristy spots to the smoky clubs, to the arcades, to the wonton stands, to the old temples and neighborhoods. I want the film to be affectionate to the city, but one that doesn’t look like a tourism ad. I want viewers to feel that a Shanghainese made this film. We also filmed Shanghai with a richer color palette than Los Angeles. L.A., by comparison, seems grey, bleak and dull. We filled Shanghai with smoke, neon lights and strong bright colors, and tried to film at night as much as possible.

that’s: Explain how you shared your tasks as co-directors.
KK: It was important for me that David always knew that we were working together to make his movie. It’s a very personal, largely autobiographical story for David. His instincts had to be the driving force. That said, David didn’t have any practical experience making movies when he approached my brother and me. By sharing the director’s duties with David, I worked with him to ensure that his vision was being articulated to the key crew (cinematographer, production designer, editor, etc.) and also to the actors. Filmmaking is a collaborative medium. I worked to get the ideas in David’s head into the hands of the people who would bring it to life. One advantage of this film having two directors is that every choice, every idea was challenged by the other. So we had to understand that idea well enough to describe it to the other director, to convince him that this was the right idea.

DR: Then, while filming, we could generally move twice as fast by having two directors with a shared vision giving orders. Sometimes, I would be at one location, finishing a scene, while Kern would move on to the next location, setting up. This really saved us a lot of time and allowed us to finish the film on our schedule, which was hectic.

that’s: You and your brother Kip have worked as music producers. Did you apply any of those talents to Shanghai Kiss?
KK: One musical connection in the movie is that we have always had a deep fascination with jazz – Duke Ellington, in particular – so the song that plays during the Shanghai nightlife sequence where Liam and Micki are dancing in the club is a Duke Ellington song called “Acht O’Clock Rock” that I remixed in an electronica style.

that’s: Kelly Hu isn’t from the Chinese mainland. How did you get her to play a Shanghainese?
DR: I know a lot of Westerners have a preconceived notion of what a Chinese girl should be and maybe Kelly doesn’t match this preconception. The reality is, with the globalization of China and the Westernization of the country in terms of media (Internet, movies, television, books), more Chinese, especially in a major metropolis like Shanghai, are becoming Americanized. When Shanghai women are watching Hollywood movies and Sex and the City, how different are they really from American women? In that sense, I thought Kelly perfectly played the balance between a traditional Shanghainese woman and one who has a more Western influence. By contrast, China is also influencing Western culture dramatically; Kill Bill and The Matrix didn’t come from nowhere.

that’s: Ken Leung is the product of two cultures, like his character in the film. Is that why you cast him in the lead?
KK: Ken connected with this role because he had just returned from his own first journey to China, where he visited his grandmother’s home, just as Liam does in the script. And then he read it only a few days after his return. It seemed like a natural fit from the start.

that’s: It’s flattering to see a Hollywood movie set in Shanghai, even if the city is still considered as a very exotic, mysterious place in the US. What’s your take on that?
DR: Shanghai is exotic because the architecture seems to have many different influences, from the British buildings on the Bund, to the French Concession, to the futuristic skyline of Pudong. That said, Shanghai is a city slowly losing its past. The old neighborhoods are being torn down to build bland apartment complexes and skyscrapers. While modernization is good, I would like the city to retain a part of its culture.

Shanghai Kiss has been selected in the Panorama section at the 10th Shanghai international Film Festival

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

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

Competition in the Chinese entertainment industry is so intense, that were it permitted, agents would scout maternity wards for the next sweet young thing. Indeed, ‘the younger the better’ might could be the modus operandi for the companies like the Emperor Entertainment Group (EEG), that is if its recent discovery, rising superstar Isabella Leong Lok-Si, is at all representative.

EEG is a Hong Kong-based artist management/record company that courts the youth market with its hand-picked assets, including such heartthrobs as the Twins, Edison Chen and Nicolas Tse. The company recruited Leong at the age of 12, and has since taken the former teen model and groomed her for a spot on the A-list.

Some might say the market is already saturated with product (especially now the amateurs have entered the idol competition), but in Leong’s case, she was in the right place, at the right moment, with the right attributes. She’s tall (172 centimeters), beautiful (wide forehead, large eyes and perfect complexion) and talented. And a touch exotic. Indeed, in China she’s been dubbed Xiao Zhang Bai Zhi (young Cecilia Cheung), in reference to the actresses shared profession and, no doubt, their mixed blood (Cheung’s mother is half English half Chinese). “I am half Chinese, half Portuguese, and half English,” says the 18 year old starlet. Meaning, of course, a third of each.

Since signing Leong in 2000, EGG has done much to expand her visibility (TV, music, film and stage) and, of course, bankability. At 16, she’d already released an EP (Isabella), made several guest performances at the Hong Kong Hung Hom coliseum and won various awards (Guangzhou Radio Golden Hits Awards; Yahoo! Hong Kong Buzz Awards). In 2005, at seventeen, she made her film debut in Law Chi-leung’s Bugs Me Not!, for which she was nominated Best New Performer at the 42nd Golden Horse Awards and the 25th Hong Kong Film Awards. Later that same year, her sophomore movie, the Pang Brothers’ psycho-thriller The Eye 10 was released, while she was in Macao shooting Isabella a Media Asia production helmed by Edmond Pang Ho-cheung. She also played a supporting role (a fiery urchin) in Jeff Lau’s A Chinese Tall Story.

In addition, as of the end of last year, Leong had appeared in 20 TV commercials and print advertisements (Coca Cola, Maybelline Cosmetics) and won more awards (e.g., Guangzhou TV Station Great Potential Newcomer). Not bad for someone who at the time had yet to blow out 18 candles.

That said, the actress’ stand-out performance was in the art house film Isabella, wherein she was more than a pretty young face; indeed, she proved her acting chops in a performance that one critic called “compelling and genuinely impressive”.

While Leong didn’t take home an award for her effort, following the film’s screening at the Berlin Film Festival last February, Chinese music composer Peter Kam won the Best Film Music Silver Bear, vying against celebrated composers like James Horner (The New World, Braveheart) or Klaus Badelt (Wu Ji). One might argue that other honors were due. The film is clearly different from the usual Hong Kong fare; its pace, aesthetic, music, and emotional and lyrical mood are unusually thoughtful and well-crafted.

Shot entirely on location in Macao, the low budget (USD 1.3 million; RMB 8 million) Isabella takes place on the eve of the Portuguese-governed territory’s return to Chinese sovereignty. The plot concerns a thirty-something, womanizing cop, Shing (Chapman To, who also co-produced), suspended for corruption. In a chance encounter, he meets Yan (Leong), the daughter he never knew he had. Yan insists on living under his roof, challenges his girlfriends and generally disrupts his life. The film’s title does not refer to its leading actress, rather to Yan’s runaway dog. She and her father search for it, and in the process become acquainted, but, of course, they never find it. The pooch is a metaphor – Yan’s last link to her late mother and the yet-to-be-found connection with her newly-discovered dad.

Pang, whose style of direction was described by Variety as “a mixture of Claude Lelouch and Wong Kar-wai”, offers more depth and subtexts than this simple synopsis may suggest; for Pang, Macao’s historical significance is as a symbol of the clash between the culture of East and West, and as such, appropriate for this story of long lost daughter reuniting with her father.
Leong’s personal history was also significant in her winning the role, as it parallels that of the character she plays. Born in Hong Kong in 1988, she was raised in Macao and suffered the loss of a parent. Says Pang: “Her personal experience made her the perfect candidate for this part.”

Pang also stresses that the title is in no way meant to promote the actress, insisting that the choice was nothing more than coincidence. “We cast Isabella long before I decided on the title,” says the 33-year-old director, who claims he did not write the script with Leong in mind. “I liked her name, and later found its meaning [God’s promise] matched the theme of my film.”

Leong agrees that her character in the film “resembles me in a lot of respects”. And she drew on her personal experience (the death of her father in Macao, for example) when playing the part. “My personal experience was important for my performance,” she says. ”A lot of memories just came back; I always felt depressed there and quickly sensed the character’s state of mind.”

Both Pang and Leong say the shoot was an emotional one, intensified, perhaps, by To’s physical resemblance to Leong’s late father. A resemblance that was a little too close to reality.

“When I cried [on the set],” says Leong, “it wasn’t acting; it was natural emotion.” An emotion that Pang encouraged, advising the actress not to analyze her character.

As a result, Isabella works; the drama is poignant, and the sentiments appear genuine, which greatly benefits the overall mood of the film. Leong’s performance is surprisingly mature for a young, and relatively inexperienced, actress. At 17, she captures the essence of a rebellious-cum-ingenuous and fatherless girl.

In past roles, Leong’s directors seem entranced by her charm, youth and freshness; yet only Pang has managed to capture her teen angst and bring out an exceptional performance. Says Pang: “Though I didn’t get the chance to watch Leong’s previous movies, I realized she really exceeded herself with her performance in Isabella.”

Indeed, Pang thought Leong a shoe-in for the Best Actress Award in Berlin. Though Leong appeared more concerned about an outbreak of acne than her chance to win the top award. In fact, she behaved as a typical teenager, joking that “I’ve never had a pimple in my life. Perhaps the festival has disrupted my hormones.”

Leong, didn’t win, of course, but the festival did provide plenty of exposure, and considerable international respect. Film critic Tim Youngs wrote that “[Leong] displays considerable range in her first leading dramatic role, exuding a rough edge and displaying believable emotion.”

In the wake of such acclaim, Leong has received a number of offers, some of which may provide equally good roles. Or not, as the case may be. However, two are worth mentioning. One is High Tea, in which Leong is cast opposite fellow EEG star Deep Ng and the veteran Hong Kong actor Kenneth Tsang. Here, Leong plays a young adventurous kung-fu expert involved in a hunt for lost treasure. Part Da Vinci Code, part Mission Impossible, this promising act