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 Here are pictures and images of various historical documents that prove this point.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.

Hidden in plain view among the abundant offerings of this year’s San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival (which runs from March 13 to 23) was a program of four short films under the title By Hand. Aside from the delightful opening bit of animation, three were documentaries featuring men of a certain craft, from a pushcart cinema operator in India, to the proprietors of a halal slaughterhouse in New York, who intend to pass their hand-made talents to their children.

In Salim Baba, the pushcart man has several sons who already help him on his daily runs through Calcutta, wheeling the cart with his century-old, custom-rebuilt film projector to show eager children an assortment of classic Bollywood videos and trailers, which the old man cuts and splices himself. The skills will be passed on, but it remains to be seen whether such an out-of-time tradition will survive our digital age.

When we first meet 27-year-old Imram in A Son’s Sacrifice, his dress and demeanor suggest hip-hop more than halal. The business his elderly Bangladeshi father started in Queens has flourished, thanks to the influx of South Asian, African, and West Indian immigrants into New York. All he needs is a successor, whom he finds in his hamburger-eating, half-Puerto Rican son, whose competence is exceeded only by his devotion to his family.

But the centerpiece was Tailor Made: Chinatown’s Last Tailors, where brothers Bill and Jack Wong are the endearing victims of their own success story, and seem quite comfortable with it. Their father started Modernize Tailors in 1913, and the two eldest brothers have run the business for the past fifty years. In the postwar boom, they were the largest men’s tailor shop in Vancouver, employing 20 people and suiting up celebrities like Sean Connery and Gordon Lightfoot. In the off-the-rack, globalized 21st century, they still do a boutique business, from the mayor of Vancouver who rolls in throwing around a few Cantonese phrases, to the department store who seeks them out for their vintage Singer Buttonholer, which is almost as old as they are.

They are now 85 and 83, and their North American success story has produced an extended family of doctors, business folk, and other professionals, but no tailors. It turns out that neither Bill or Jack intended to take this path either. After World War II, they both graduated with engineering degrees, but were unhireable as Canadian Chinese. Nevertheless it’s clear the wise and witty Bill loves the business he turned to because of the limits white society imposed upon him. The more reticent Jack tends to stay in the background. When asked about his trade, he says at one point, “Maybe I can be a carpenter,” a remark expressing both ambivalence in his path and as well as an inherently hopeful attitude that’s made them and Modernize Tailors endure.

Their youngest brother Milton, whom they helped raise, did breach the wider world, and spectacularly, as an investment banker, university chancellor, and Order of Canada honoree. As a gift to his brothers, he buys the original storefront which he then converts into a retirement home-cum-living museum and work shop, for the brothers to continue part-time tailoring. The only thing left to do, is find a successor to take over their store.

It is this search which takes up the lion’s share of the CBC documentary, with two strikingly different candidates. One is an Asian-American architect and part-time fashion reporter, who is attracted by the artistry as well as a desire to make connections with his roots. Unfortunately he does not sew and never really picks up the essential skills, which dashes his romantic and somewhat rose-tinteed aspirations. It’s a testament to Bill’s integrity, that he dissuades the apprentice from continuing at the probable cost of seeing the shop close forever.

The other apprentice candidate, a Caucasian, who turns up is none other than the tailor from Holt Renfrew, the department store client of Modernize. Unlike the architect, he can sew and do all the tailor stuff well. That makes him attractive to the fashionistas on London’s Saville Row, where our young tailor ends up. He comes back to break the news to Bill, but not before he shares a Saville Row catalogue and we are let in on a rich moment: young tailor points out excitedly to old tailor that the haute coutre fabric of the day can be found right on his shelves, to which Bill replies laconically, “So, it’s back in fashion.” Young tailor decides to return to Saville Row, but not before both apprentices and many family members help them move across the street to their new old home.

The film ends with a postscript, showing the now part-time tailors at their new shop. I felt comforted by that sight, as well as by this Vancouver Sun article. In addition to more background on the Wongs and Vancouver Chinese, it indicates that the Chinatown area, long in decline, may be poised for a resurgence that could support once again an exemplar of craft such as Modernize Tailors. But Bill and Jack Wong are irrevocably the last of something – they are the final generation of pioneers, every bit as pioneer as the frontiersmen, trailblazers, and homesteaders of the North American West – and I strongly hope that people who see this story will begin to view the brothers and their achievement in that same spirit.

Tailor Made: Chinatown’s Last Tailors

Directed by Leonard lee, Marsha Newberry

Canada 2007, 45 min.

I did see Nanking, which was nothing special, biut was more looking forward to seeing this Canadian film Iris Chang: The Rape of Nanking, which is supposedly about both the woman and her life (she committed suicide in 2004, as we all know) and the historical events of 1937. I would love to hear some comments or even get a review from someone, anyone, who has seen the film. After a cursory search, we found a review from Straight.com where Janet Smith said that the movie was ok, but thought that some of the reenactments of Chang’s life were a bit too extraneous and cheesy. Russell Edwards, writing in Variety Asia Online said about the same thing, albeit a bit more harshly:

Docu opens with thesp Olivia Cheng stranded in the first of several hokey re-enactments from Chang’s life, underscored by saccharine music, before informing that the author committed suicide in 2004. Talking heads — including Chang’s family, friends and colleagues — are less than probing, but the film gains disturbing momentum when dedicating substantial screen time to the overwhelming testimonies of Nanking survivors. However, the final reels, which consider the severe impact of Chang’s research on her own mental state, lack rigorous detachment and slide into sentimentality. Helming is pedestrian, but interviews and archival footage carry the narrative over rough patches. Tech credits are OK.

He calls the reenactment bits “hagiography” and says they are overly sentimental. I haven’t seen the film, but I can certainly imagine people making films that way — these subjects just lend themselves to that hokeyness, which is not to say it’s inevitable, but just that there are some people who, when making films, don’t know when too much hokeyness is too much.

The “Ideas Revolutionary” blog has an interview with the actress that plays Chang, Toronto (or B.C. based?) actress Olivia Cheng. It’s an mp3 that you can download. That blog also links to an Edmonton Sun article about Cheng as well. The National Post featured Cheng as a diarist, where she recounted the first week of the Iris Chang film shoot.

So it seems the movie was already released in Canada, and has been seen at several film fests. I’d love to hear from other people who have seen it and would like to a either leave a comment or else write a review for China Film Journal on this movie.

Chen Kaige (陈凯歌）just finished production on the long-awaited biopic of Peking opera singer Mei Lanfang (梅兰芳).They are now moving into post-production. The article says that it’s still unclear when the film will be released and what festivals it’s going to play.In slightly related news, one of the actresses in that movie is Gillian Chung, most recently of Edison Chen photo scandal fame. She had a role in Chen’s movie, but what with all the new censorship rules and the moral brouhaha caused by the whole thing, word is that her scenes might get cut, though the film’s producer denies that.There are some books, like this one called “Peking Opera and Mei Lanfang” (Zuguang), which might help get you up to speed on the life and times of the famed singer. 

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