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HK 10 Years > From China Daily Newspaper |
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Embracing a bigger picture
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness. Dickens' classic line applies so appropriately to the film industry of Hong Kong, a city known as the "Oriental Hollywood". Recently, the Hong Kong Film Development Committee announced a HK$ 300 million ($38.5 million) package to help out the local film industry. Also, local talents are
But while the money flows in, the local market continues to shrink. In 2006, the city's film industry struggled to churn out 51 productions, the number was 57 in 2005, but in its peak time there were about 300 films produced annually on the small island. At the same time, only 46 theaters are still running, one third of the number in the city's heyday. The territory still has stars recognized all over the world and award-winning directors, but for many insiders, the decline of the Hong Kong film industry started as early as the 1990s. "Hong Kong people are very diligent, that's part of Hong Kong spirit," says Samson Chiu, director of Golden Chicken (Jin Ji) and Mr. Cinema (Laogang Zhengzhuan). This diligence was apparent during the 1980s and 90s, when some films could be completed in one week. The films mainly featured crime, marital arts, ghosts, gambling, or soft pornography. If one type of film was a hit, such as Troublesome Night (Yinyang Lu) and Fight Back to School (Taoxue Weilong), numerous sequels would follow. Established actress Maggie Cheung earned the nickname "dozen Cheung", because she had the record of starring in a dozen of films in a year. The imitation of popular genres resulted in the production of low quality films, and consequently, the decline of Hong Kong film's reputation. Meanwhile, Korean films began to grab a slice of the Asian market rapidly. The gap between superstars like Jackie Chan and new blood widens year after year due to the shrinking market, which forces filmmakers to focus more on famous faces to find box office success. In addition, some directors, such as John Woo and Hark Tsui, chose to further their career in Hollywood at the end of the 1990s, accelerating the drain of production talent. Veteran producer and director Henry Fong Ping told a story he heard from a journalist. The reporter was overjoyed to interview a star that he had looked up to since he was a boy. But the joy vanished when he found he was interviewing the same person again and again. "Sometimes we feel safe, because the young men have not caught up yet," he says jokingly. "But if 10 years later, people are still talking about Chow Yun-fat and Andy Lau, it will be a sad thing for the industry," Fong says. "For the youngsters, my suggestion is, just do it. Do not sit and wait for a big production. Take every chance you can grab now." A ray of hope shone in 2004, when the Closer Economic Partnership Arrangement (CEPA) came into effect. Items related to the film industry in this package allowed Hong Kong filmmakers to distribute local films in the mainland on a quota-free basis, as opposed to falling under the foreign-film category and thus being subjected to the maximum-allowed quota of 20 foreign films a year. If a Hong Kong film is a co-production with the mainland, it gives the project automatic distribution across the vast country. But there must be content related to the mainland and the cast should include mainland actors. Hong Kong citizens are also allowed to own or operate theaters in the mainland. CEPA's impact is obvious. The mainland made about 330 films in 2006, but the top earners were co-productions with Hong Kong. These included Curse of the Golden Flower (Mancheng Jindai Huangjinjia) and The Banquet (Ye Yan), which ranked the first and second respectively. In Hong Kong, seven out of the top 10 films last year were co-productions with the Chinese mainland, according to the Motion Picture Industry Association of Hong Kong. In a Variety report, China's box office power was explained in this way: There were two major Chinese films released at Christmas - Curse of the Golden Flower and Confession of Pain, both are co-productions with Chinese mainland. Curse has brought in around $32.2 million from the mainland, and $2.6 million from Hong Kong. Confession is at $8.6 million in the mainland and $2.6 million in Hong Kong. Still, filmmakers say that there are problems with co-productions. For example, how do you make a story that appeals to both the mainland and Hong Kong, when Hong Kong culture is much more connected to south regions, which are quite different to northern China? Fong Ping has worked in the industry for about 30 years as actor, director and producer. Still, he finds it difficult to describe what kind of story would appeal to both groups. "I don't think I have found the right method to apply to every project. After all, the audience are very different," he says. What adds to the difficulty of choosing an appropriate story is the existence of censorship and non-existence of a rating system. In 2001, Hong Kong comedian and director Stephen Chow clashed with the movie bureau of the State Administration of Radio, Film and TV (SARFT) during the examination of Shaolin Soccer (Shaolin Zuqiu). Shaolin Temple complained about putting "soccer" alongside "Shaolin", which they worried would insult Buddhists. Chow refused to change the title to Kungfu Soccer, and the film's producer was banned from shooting on the mainland for one year. And in 2004, young director Ching-Po Wong's Left Hand (Jiang Hu) failed to hit the screens in the mainland because there were too many violent scenes. Aware of the difficulty of finding a subject that will please all, some are turning to the universality of human emotions. Samson Chiu's latest offering, Mr. Cinema, tells the story of a Hong Kong projectionist who has witnessed the past 40 years of the city. The typical Hong Kong grassroots' lifestyle resonates well with the local audience, while the feeling between husband and wife, father and son engages the mainland viewers too. When some are struggling to please the different audiences, others are worrying about the loss of Hong Kong flavor in the efforts to keep a balance. "Why must we recruit Xu Jinglei (a famed mainland actress) in Confession of Pain?" Fong said in a recent interview. "One is speaking mandarin, others Cantonese, and you have to explain why this person is speaking a different language, isn't that awkward?" Some have chosen to keep working on "pure Hong Kong productions." Johnny To, whose gangster films are recognized as a trademark of Hong Kong films, insisted on using local investment and local actors after the reunification. But more and more are trying to find the balance. "Someone has to try to figure out what the audience need," Samson Chiu says. "There are frustrations, and also many things to learn." Critic Joe Yip says that although the number of films is decreasing, the quality is going up. Works among them such as Stephen Chow's Kungfu Hustle (Gong Fu) and Jackie Chan's Rob-b-hood (Baobei Jihua), win both public and critics' praise. "Don't you think the quality of Hong Kong film in recent years is the best," he told a mainland magazine. "Although My Name Is Fame (Wo Yao Chengming) (a popular film made last year) casts Huo Siyan from the mainland, who can say it's not a Hong Kong film? Let alone other good works like Protg and After This, Our Exile (Fu Zi)." Director Yee Tung-Shing believes that the communication between mainland and Hong Kong actors fuels positive competition. "It's time for Hong Kong performers to wake up when they see the performance of Zhang Jingchu and Sun Honglei in Seven Swords (Qi Jian)," he says. "It's time to move on."
(China Daily 07/02/2007 page6) |
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