No sane Hollywood producer would intentionally devalue a pop culture icon. Audiences won’t ever witness, say, Superman kicking the crutches out from under a cripple, or Batman caught drunk behind the wheel of the Batmobile. Yet in his directorial debut, Lost in Wu Song (LIWS), the multiple-hyphenated scriptwriter-director-actor-producer Lu Yitong deftly deconstructs one of China’s prominent literary figures Wu Song. Wu Song, of course, isn’t a pop icon, not yet. Rather he’s a popular, traditional Chinese hero from the pages of the 14th-century classic novel The Water Margin. Idolized by Chinese everywhere, Wu Song is considered the quintessence of manhood. Fond of fighting and drink – once, while under the influence [of alcohol], he killed a tiger with his bare hands – Wu Song is, like his Western counterparts, a righteous man, one whose reputation must remain unsullied. Yet in LIWS, Lu portrays this mythic character as a dumb, violent boozer.
Quite obviously, this is not a mainstream film. It has no big stars; it is not backed, financially or otherwise, by a big studio. Nor does it have a plot constructed by formula. It is neither an art-house flick, nor a product of the sixth-generation school of social realism. Rather, this is an independent production, a deadpan, offbeat comedy by first time, Beijing director Lu. Four years in the making, LIWS was financed solely by private investors, mainly Lu, his relatives and friends.
Which is why this wry, thought provoking tale of an idealist, wannabe filmmaker, Men Desong, is so refreshing. Men, still a virgin at 30, has a dream: to make the definitive film about his childhood hero Wu Song, and then retire and become a Buddhist monk. Men’s biggest problem is finding the right actor to play Wu Song, one who is a living embodiment of the legendary brute. Men pursues his quest with a daft, bullheaded tenacity, in spite of pressure from his producers to compromise. What follows is a series of Don Quixote-like misadventures, the outcome of which changes Men for good.
Equally stubborn, Lu, 43, never compromised his independence in the production of LIWS. While this is his film debut, he has worked in, and around, the industry for two decades, in France, the US and India. And his experience, as well as his love for cinema, is evident in the reception this film has received at various international festivals and with critics. To name but one tribute to Lu’s skills as a filmmaker, LIWS won the 2005 International Federation of Film Critics award (FIPRESCI). Nevertheless, Lu, much like other independent filmmakers, has yet to secure a deal for domestic release of his film.
In the meantime, he’s just completed a short film that will be part of an omnibus movie project, wherein seven directors were randomly assigned a color as the theme of their work (Lu received green, representing spring, hope and vigor); the resulting seven films will be screened at the Calcutta Film Festival in November 2006. In addition, the director is planning his next feature-length film, set in Shanghai.
We spoke with Lu about his enthusiasm for cinema, his approach to deconstructing myths, and the state of independent filmmaking in the Chinese mainland.

that’s: LIWS is a film-within-a-film. Is it based on your own experience?
Lu Yitong: LIWS has very little in common with my life or experience. It has much more to do with my inner intellectual world. This film’s a fable; it’s suggestive. It relates to the process of modernization in China, which is based on Western models, and filled with contradictions and absurdities. One of the consequences of the process, in particular China’s economic growth, is that idealism has been destroyed. It has also created extreme uncertainty. I have observed this process – from a distance – and [in the film] I express my thoughts on it also from a distance.

that’s: Tell us about the characters in the film.
LY: Growing up as a boy, Wu Song was for me the perfect super hero. But now I see him as a symbol of the contradiction between traditional and modern values. Pan Jinlian is Wu Song’s sister-in-law. In the legend, she poisons her husband, Wu Song’s brother, because she wants to be with her lover, Xi Menqing. Wu Song avenges his brother and kills the couple. In LIWS, Pan Jinlian symbolizes a reality [that the dreamer and would-be filmmaker] Men Desong must confront. If Pan were living today, excepting the fact that she kills her husband, she would be a very modern and independent woman.

that’s: One of the film’s themes is the conflict between fantasy and reality.
LY: [Of course] there’s no such thing as a living Wu Song; he’s the product of my character’s [Men’s] imagination – Wu Song is a symbol. All the characters around Desong are symbolic of reality. Mei Li [the modern Pan Jinlian] doesn’t just represent love; she represents reality through sex. I wanted to tell the story of an idealist, Men Desong, who confronts an all-powerful reality. He’s like Don Quixote trying to fight his enemies which turn out to be windmills. Like him, Desong is bound to fail. He’s ridiculous; yet at the same time, he inspires respect. In the film, it’s not clear whether, in the end, he accepts reality or not. He may very well continue to struggle against his windmills. My main interest is to show the failure of my characters.

that’s: In the movie-within-the-movie, the cast is constantly rehearsing but they never actually begin shooting.
LY: The [interior] film only exists in Desong’s imagination. LIWS’s plot traces the progression of a quest, a quest for Wu Song, i.e., a quest for an ideal. As such, the rehearsals show different actors portraying Wu Song, all of whom perform the same scene. Desong compares their performances in his search for the ‘real’ Wu Song. When he finally finds the right one, his film is ruined because the living Wu Song shatters Desong’s illusions.

that’s: Can Chinese viewers accept your deconstruction of the Wu Song myth?
LY: I didn’t want to cause my compatriots too much grief by completely annihilating their hero; the destruction of idols and heroes is a painful process. [But] to reverse and to deconstruct [a myth] is also a pleasurable experience. This contradiction is, in my opinion, both inspiring and fruitful. In artistic terms, the process falls in the grey zone between affirmation and negation.
This film also addresses issues such as the contradiction between idealism and reality, tradition and modernity, money and art, etc. These contradictions are very much a fact of life in contemporary China. If I told you that heroes of ancient times are the criminals of the present day, what would you think?

that’s: Is black comedy a reflection of your personality?
LY: I’m a skeptical person. I like to explore that which is hidden, its multiple implications and multi-layered significance. In my past life, when I was an artist, I liked [French Dadaist] Marcel Duchamps and post-modernist concepts and art. Satire, provocation and playfulness are the most important characteristics of the post-modernism movement. So when I saw films that featured these qualities, I naturally liked them. For example, the films of Stanley Kubrick, the Coen Brothers, and Quentin Tarantino’s early works.

that’s: Is Men Desong and his approach to filmmaking a portrait of the current state of the industry in the Chinese mainland?
LY: No. Desong could never become a director; he’s [probably] too thick and slow-minded for that. Yet he may also be too smart. There’s a Chinese saying that goes “very intelligent people appear to be stupid.” So who knows, perhaps he could be a director after all.

that’s: Describe the role of a Chinese independent filmmaker.
LY: The Chinese independent cinema scene is much more political than the Western one. But I want to keep a distance from politics. My criticisms are [aimed] at the cultural level. I believe problems with reality, including political problems, are all related to and rooted in the cultural tradition.
I really like Arthur Rimbaud’s poem about “art being elsewhere”. And Milan Kundera’s interesting modification to that poem: “life is elsewhere”. I believe both life and art are elsewhere; only by having an ‘elsewhere’ can you really be independent. China’s current independent film scene is ambiguous and awkward. Many independent Chinese films are independent from the Chinese film system, yet they’ve fallen into the system of Western film festivals and film critics. It is very difficult to reconcile this contradiction, but not impossible.

that’s: Where does LIWS stand then?
LY: From LIWS’ financial investment to the production process to the inner spirit of the film, you can say it’s a 100 per cent independent film. But I don’t want to overemphasize this concept of independence because if you’re independent for the sake of being independent then you’re no longer independent. Independence doesn’t have a particular form – it’s a spirit, a state of mind.
LIWS is not a ‘realistic’ film but rather a ‘post-expressionist’ one; it goes back and forth between dream and reality. Yet, for a debut film and a Chinese independent film, the budget was slightly higher than the norm.

that’s: How do you expect audiences to react to such a film?
LY: To be able to balance art and commercialism is the highest aim in cinema. LIWS is trying to head in that direction. On the surface it’s funny, and underneath there’s satire and criticism. This can satisfy different types of audiences. In China, we say “people who have ethics will see ethics; wise people will see wisdom; common people will see the ordinary.” I hope that with LIWS I’ve come close to realizing this thought. It’s my deepest wish that the largest number of people can see my film, as it touches on universal themes.

Special thanks to Caroline Nath.

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