China Film Journal

Normally I prefer to write a straight up review, but in light of an unusual experience in watching film, I thought I’d make this a meta-review of sorts:

I went to watch this film at Zhongshan park in Shanghai last Tuesday. When the lights dimmed, a “documentary” about Tibet came on. As you know, this is the sensitive year for anniversaries in China, and is, in particular, the 50th anniversary of the uprising in Tibet that led to the exile of the Dalai Lama.The documentary was called, quite pointedly, “China’s Tibet, Past and Future”. If you’ve followed this issue at all, none of the information presented in this film are surprising:

*Tibet has always been part of China and the Tibetan rulers have acknowledged Chinese suzerainty since ancient times. Here are pictures and images of various historical documents that prove this point.
*WHy bother decrying the vetting of Tibetan religious leaders by China’s central government? Emperors used to do this, including with the latest Dalai Lama, so what’s the big deal if the CCP inherits this role.
*Tibet was a despotic, feudal system before the Chinese liberated it. It was a cruel theocracy of vast socio-economic inequality. The lamas and their families–the upper strata of the ancien regime–owned everything, including virtually all the arable land and other resources of production. Regular people had next to nothing.
*China liberated Tibet and gave it a good dose of progressive socialist ideology–and things improved greatly.
*Tibetan heritage is fluorishng and the standard of living has steadily improved.

It was clearly and unambiguously agitprop, but 21st. century China style, wrapping the historical narrative of Tibet up in and interweaving it with that of modern China as a whole, including the successful Beijing Olympics and the upcoming World Expo. At fifteen minutes, it was long and tendentious, and made me a bit impatient, since even after it finished, there was yet another long preview (of a regular movie), so that the film we came to watch didn’t start until a good twenty or twenty five minutes after the time stated on the ticket.

*24 City (24城記）*

Jia Zhangke has said, over the years, that he wants to alternate making docs and fiction films, and in this case he has melded the two.There are real people mixed with actors doing recreations–Joan Chen, Lv Liping, Zhao Tao, among others–but while these actors put on some decent performances these interviewees, the film doesn’t end up being more than a series of vignettes. I doubt that Jia intended to put together some systematic history of the place, but there is an unfinished, work-in-progress feel to this movie that tends to work towards its detriment. However, many of the interviews with the real people are better, because you know they are real–so here, again,is a meta-level question–how does the fact that you are watching Joan Chen change your perception of what’s being shown? It’s obvious that no matter how good Chen’s acting chops are, what she is doing is a performance. Most of the time, of course, we accept this–because that’s what makes fictional films possible in the first place–however, in this case, while Chen and the others are fine, they are still a bit actorly–and you wouldn’t really notice that fact unless you had all these more “real” performances to compare them with.

Jia is probably too intelligent not to notice this himself, but it still took me aback when he confronted this head on during the Joan Chen segment, where she says in her youth, at the prime of her beauty, her coworkers at the factory compared her to the actress Joan Chen. A little pomo joke? Maybe, but it made me a bit skittish. I suppose I still relish the suspension of disbelief,and don’t like the feeling of being taken for a ride, even if the ride, for the most part, is an enjoyable one.

That said, there are some moving moments, both from the actors and the real interviewees–enough to remind you that Jia Zhangke is one of the only Chinese filmmakers out there that can convey the gravity of China’s changing. That pathos, that uniquely Chinese pathos that glossier magazines and Western media don’t–or rather, *can’t* pick up on–are captured by Jia’s lens. One can almost forgive the lack of polish for that very reason–Jia, more than other filmmakers is continually creating audiovisual artifacts for us, the rest of the world, Chinese and non-Chinese alike–that will, I believe, stand the test of time,not only for their aesthetic excellence but because they are excellent chronicles of China. They are chronicles of physical reality, of its metamorphosis–but more than that,they are chronicles of the spirit, of what Chinese people call *jingshen*, which can mean anything mental, intellectual, spiritual–and in Jia’s case, it’s the emotional undertow, the things that are not said, that are glossed over and ignored by ideological or mainstream rhetorics that finally, as it were, get their say.

It is this kind of pathos that you don’t normally see among the audiovisual artifacts being produced today: and that’s what makes the contrast with the Tibetan propaganda film so striking. Jia was once an unofficial or underground filmmaker–and he no longer is, and he is, as well as know, no longer a skint and scrappy indie guy. He makes money. He’s got connections. But there’s still something very real, and very heartfelt at the core, and in a world of cinematic
phoniness, there’s something to be said for that stick to your guns type mentality.

To bring it back to Tibet: it is a strange juxtaposition, watching these two films together–we’re so used to seeing just previews before the movie that to see this stylish bit of agitprop is a bit startling: it hearkens back to newsreels of old, a time when the news was delivered on big screens, or when the political just had to intrude everywhere
because the world was in the throes of war or what have you. I feel obliged to mention that when we went, on Tuesday afternoon, even with the half off discount the theater was nearly empty.I highly doubt that Jia is going to make much money off this film, at least on the domestic market. Likewise, watching propaganda in the afternoon with a handful of other people didn’t quite jibe with I am sure that they play the Tibet film before the other, popular movies, so that before you settle down to watching “Transporter 3″ you get a good dose of “historical” education about the Tibet issue. Just in case things get hairy and out of control in Tibetan areas this March, or throughout the rest of this sensitive year.

China changes, or China never changes. Same ideological posture, except now in IMAX. However, Jia’s world, everything changes–and the only thing that lasts, the only thing that binds us are memories.Children are lost to their parents. Migrations, emotional rows, generation gaps all tear families asunder. The ligature of memory is strained as people get older–it seems strong when they are recalling it in front of us–but of course, we know that simply recalling something and saying it verbally doesn’t really do justice to the “strength” or “saturation” of that memory among the many memories that are stored in your brain or the salient memories constitutive of the sense of self and identity. Therefore, you get the uneasy sense that you are watching something that was unearthed quite by accident, and could very well have been lost. Maybe these “little people”, these “laobaixing” don’t mean much in the large scale of things: you read media articles with Chinese government planners, bureaucrats and energy scientists that are talking about the year 2100 like it’s tomorrow. Just about all of us who are alive now will be dead by that time, and our secrets and wounds, the maybes and could have beens–both individual and collective–will be just as gone. I’ve always been afraid that the official Chinese meta-narrative would swamp and subsume everything else–which is why it’s that much more incumbent on artists, in whatever medium, to keep recording the micro-sadnesses, vicissitudes, twists and turns, warp and woof of the individual life and consciousness. Lest it be completely be forgotten by History.

Technorati Tags: tibet, tibetans, dalai lama, china, chinese, ccp, jia zhangke, movies, movie, film, cinema, documentary, joan chen

This film is about the Chinese that left China in the 19th c. to build railroads in Canada and the US, and of course, has a bit of intrigue and romance as well.
The story follows Little Tiger (Sun Li), a plucky girl living the hard scrabble life on the streets of Hong Kong. Without family or friends, Little Tiger has to pretend that she’s a boy (a la Mulan) and work odd jobs to keep herself afloat. Her dream is to learn English and then go to the “Gold Mountain”, where she thinks she can make some real money and perhaps find her long-lost father, who went there and was never heard from again.

Fate has it that she runs into James Nichol (Luke McFarlane), the dashing young lad that is sent by his railroad tycoon father to get 2000 coolies to Canada right quick, lest they not able to finish their railroad and thus forfeit everything to their debtors. From there on in you can expect plenty of fortune cookie type moments thrown in, and you can guess who falls in love with who, and you can almost guess if there is a happy ending or not.

The two performances that I enjoyed the most were not by either of the main actors, but by Tony Leung Ka Fai as the bookman with the mysterious scar on his face as well as the venerable Peter O’Toole, who gets to play a drunken, aging old China hand responsible for finding workers for the Nichols. Peter O’Toole’s performance is of note, and not because it’s bad–I think it’d be hard for an actor of his caliber to be awful, but there are some ropey lines in there, especially when O’Toole is speaking Chinese and says some cheesy things like “forgive him, he is but a foreign devil” or just “oh shit”…it’s the kind of role that are easy paychecks for O’Toole John Hurt and the like–a sagging face, a slurred voice, drunken roues, world-weary philosophers, a still posh English accent–its still a joy to watch but there is, truth be told, nothing of real value in a role or performance of that sort. It adds nothing new. It is, literally, just a role.

The story itself, when it moves to Canada, has the normal ups and downs. There are a couple of secrets, a couple of conspirators, an couple of racist baddies, etc. There is also supposed to be this streak of melancholy because of all the Chinese workers that lost their lives in this process–they said 3 for every mile of railroad–and they hit this point home fairly often enough in the movie, when random Chinese workers get tragically killed. There are some bits about the emotional lives of the workers–but for the most part, the story is focused on Little Tiger, the she that is a he, as well as James Nichols, who learns a little something about Chinamen, building railroads, and himself in the process.

On the whole, not too bad, but nothing that you really want to waste your time watching if you have something more pressing to do, or something of real quality to watch.

The famed Chinese film director died on October 18 at the age of 85. The International Herald Tribune said this about Xie’s life during the Cultural Revolution. <blockquote>Xie himself was targeted during the Cultural Revolution, his 1964 film “Stage Sisters” attacked because it “advocated the reconciliation of social classes.”

Xie recalled in the 2002 interview that his parents committed suicide amid the political pressure — his mother jumping off a building and his father overdosing on sleeping pills — and he had to collect their bodies himself.

Xie was also denounced at a rally attended by more than 100,000 people.

Top young Chinese director Jia Zhangke said it was still risky for Xie to make films about the period in the 1980s, when China had started to open up and implement economic reforms.

“He was very bold, he had a rebellious spirit for that time,” said Jia, whose movies were also once banned.

Not surprisingly, Xinhua mentioned that Xie’s films tackled the Cultural Revolution but never mentioned what he himself experienced.

6th generation director Jia Zhangke mentioned that he had recently talked to Xie and that Xie had always been quite supportive of his films. He also said that he hoped to give the old man a bottle of maotai to take over to the next world, since that was Xie’s poison of choice.

Xie’s Chinese movie database (Chinese language IMDB) page is here.

The United Nations has sponsored some public awareness films from 20 prominent filmmakers and artists, and Jia Zhangke was one of them. Out of the several themes the directors could choose from, Jia picked the environment as his theme and his film will be made in a silent film style, starring, (who else?) Zhao Tao.The films are being executive produced by Martin Scorcese.(Links in Chinese)

彭韬凭《血蝉》获亚洲数码录像银奖 王小帅颁奖_影音娱乐_新浪网 via kwout

《血蝉》（Xue Chan/Little Moth) is a film about a girl that gets sold into slavery, joining one of those large beggars’ rings that anyone that’s spent any time living in and reading about urban China knows about. I had never heard of its director, Peng Tao (彭韬）until today, because while in Paris I went to an exhibition on China’s cities, and one of his films was showing there. The film was called “Wait” and was executive produced by Jia Zhangke and starred his leading lady, Zhao Tao. The film was about a woman with a young baby trying to make ends meet in Chongqing. Her husband is living in Pakistan and is absent throughout the film, echoing a theme found in Jia’s film Still Life. Her only form of communication comes in waiting at the post office for letters/mail that he might send, but of course, she never receives anything and then the post office ends up getting demolished (sorry for the spoiler, but the film is only 24 minutes long and being contemplative and arty doesn’t really have much of a plot to begin with). Her noodle stall gets demolished and so she’s forced to scrounge with work with a former patron who gives her some somewhat sketchy singing/karaoke type job, and that’s more or less where the movie concludes.

This was a short film, and it seems that Little Moth is the only feature length film that Peng Tao has made. As you can tell from the above picture though, it seems that he won an award (and was given that award from Wang Xiaoshuai, who is on the left). Googling in Englsih I found that he did indeed win the ,a href=”http://www.hkiff.org.hk/eng/programme/award01.php”>”Silver Digital Award” at the last Hong Kong International Film Festival.

I don’t know if any of his films are out on DVD in China, but would love to get a copy of Little Moth—I think I know what to expect, basically a bit of Jia Zhangke with a dash of Zhang Yang. Excuse me if I’m starting to sound a little cynical at this point, but hey, we all know what the Chinese arthouse is about. That doesn’t vitiate its value, by any means. Technorati Tags: china, peng tao, hong kong, HKIFF, little moth, slavery, beggars, china, chinese, society, awards, silver, zhao tao

Browsing Eachnet for headlines I came across some news regarding an accidental fire on the set of John Woo’s upcoming historical action film Red Cliff.
One person died and six were injured, all in stable condition and expected to live. I just skimmed the articles but so far there’s been no thorough investigation of the matter (it only happened on June 9), but, according to John Woo, the film will still still premiere in Chengdu on July 3 and hit theaters in the rest of China on July 10, as planned. The person that died was some kind of effects technician. He was only 23 years old.

According to the Chinese media, France’s MK2 has secured theatrical rights for the new Jia Zhangke (贾樟柯) film 24 City (24城记), which is going to screen soon at the Cannes Film Festival.

Chinese movies don’t make any money: or at least, the only directors that make money are Zhang Yimou and Feng Xiaoggang, says one real-estate investor who also dabbles in the media. This from a brief Chinese article on Sina.com:

尽管冯仑是一名地产商人，但开办了一本电子杂志《风马牛》。对于“竞争”者如徐静蕾《开啦》等电子杂志，冯仑大揭其底，称“这些杂志基本上赚不了钱”。而记者询问他是否也会投资电影，冯仑连连摆手，称“一年中国电影票房也就三十几个亿，赚钱的就冯小刚和张艺谋两个导演，投资电影其实赚不了钱”。 记者 巫天旭

That’s what he said. Sounds a bit bleak, but on the other hand, considering the DVD market and whatnot, it’s not hard to believe that profit margins from box office and other related products are going to really pull in a lot of money. 

The 10th annual Deauville Asian Film Festival began a couple of days ago, but we hadn’t been keeping close tabs on it. But lo and behold, what pops up in Google reader other than the news that Chinese director Jia Zhangke won some kind of artistic achievement award at the festival. Intrigued by this we opened up the article, only to find that there wasn’t that much information at all. So we decided to find what we could in the English and/or French press. In English there was just about nothing. In French all we could find was this article, which tells us the various films that won awards (Feng Xiaogang’s Assembly 《集結號》 was one of them) and the directors that were offered some kind of “hommage” — but if you look at the bottom of that link you will see that Jia Zhangke was not alone in this category. There are other Japanese and Korean directors, as well as Chinese actor/director Jiang Wen. So why does the Chinese article only mention Jia? Was that some kind of oversight, or are there different subvisions or categories of “hommage”? In all truth, it probably doesn’t matter. Jia’s already the toast of the European film festival circuit, so no surprises here, but he is still young (38), and we’re still cheering him on, and eagerly awaiting his new movies, fiction and documentary alike. We don’t really read French, but maybe you do, in which case you can find out more here, or here.

In case you’re wondering, as we did, where the heck Deauville is, here’s Google to the rescue:View Larger Map