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Hong Kong is often called the Hollywood of the East. This is because,
for the two decades that preceded the city's handover to the mainland
in 1997, the local film industry miraculously succeeded in making movies
that were more popular with local audiences than what Hollywood had to
offer. And Hong Kong was second only to the United States in film exports.
It wasn't until 1997 that U.S. films edged slightly ahead of local productions
at the box office. Amazed by these statistics, David Bordwell sets out
to explore a cinematic tradition in which the filmmaker's main mission
seems to be gluing viewers' eyes to the screen every second they are in
the theater. Beyond the crowd pleasing tricks, Bordwell finds an artistry
in what Sight and Sound film critic Tony Ryan calls the "shameless
delights" of Hong Kong cinema, maintaining that even "a frankly
commercial filmmaking tradition" may create something we might call
art.
Planet Hong Kong is the first book
from a major film scholar (David Bordwell is Jacques Ledoux Professor
of Film Studies at the University of Wisconsin, Madison) that lends Hong
Kong cinema the critical recognition it deserves but has not yet received,
even though it has been enjoying increasing popularity throughout the
world since the early 1970s. The book is interesting, informative, and
accessible, combining a moviegoer's enthusiasm with a critic's judgment.
Like other recent books on Hong Kong cinema, Planet
Hong Kong starts with a discussion of action heroes and concludes
with a section on Wong Kar wai, the best known art-film or "avant
pop" director in Hong Kong. This choice of format indicates that
most critics agree on two things. First, as Jackie Chan came to realize
after having worked in Hollywood, Hong Kong filmmakers "are the best
when it comes to action." Second, Wong Kar wai, winner of the Best
Director award at Cannes in 1997, is not only a trend-setter in Hong Kong
cinema, but also the creator of a new, universal method of filmmaking.
Bordwell also discusses plots and shots, as well as motifs and techniques
in Hong Kong films, elements that are especially engaging because they
violate Hollywood's time-honored traditions.
How do Hong Kong filmmakers make visually dazzling and outrageously entertaining
action films on relatively small budgets (on average, one-twentieth of
the cost of most American studio films)? Bordwell finds many reasons for
this in Hong Kong directors' filmmaking process. In summary, a Hong Kong
director finds a producer or makes a presale with only an idea for a film.
Once the project is okayed, the director invites his crew in for brainstorming
meetings, from which a rough script is generated. This collective creative
process leads to an open and free spirit in filmmaking that often results
in mixing genres, and sometimes boldly parodying other films. Then, experienced
actors, with a professionalism exemplified by Jackie Chan's motto "I
risk my life for my audience," and highly skilled choreographers,
usually martial-arts masters who can refine the not so refined script
with expressive or even extravagant action movements, take over. Meanwhile,
cinematographers shoot with several cameras, from different angles (rather
than engaging just a master shot and coverage as is the practice in Hollywood)
to ensure that every motion is caught in the best possible way. Then technicians
dub a close up sound track to emphasize the actions' kung fu rhythm of
burst/pause/burst. Bordwell finds in Hong Kong action films the clarity
and impact that Hollywood's chasing/strangling and fast editing can hardly
manage to convey. As if mere action were not enough, directors like John
Woo charge the motions with tragic heroism and brotherly love in order
to "make strong men weep"-an action lyricism that Hollywood
has adapted from Woo.
According to Bordwell, Hong Kong cinema offers up romance in a unique
manner. In Hong Kong love stories, emotions are often highlighted with
a romantic ideal that is touching precisely because it lacks Hollywood-style
sophistication. In the ultimate metropolitan setting, the Hong Kong version
of modern life and love is about people not being able to communicate
either face to face or heart to heart. No one has the time to listen to
anyone else. In Hong Kong, where the old meets the new and the West meets
the East in a dizzying manner, people are forever racing to catch up with
life. It is, therefore, especially appropriate for Bordwell to conclude
Planet Hong Kong with a discussion of Wong Kar wai since the
director's preoccupation with time is not only a Hong Kong phenomenon,
but also a universal one.
As Bordwell reminds us, whenever we need a break, there is a Hong Kong
film-whether it be one of Jackie Chan's humorous kung fu movies, John
Woo's lyrical action films, or Wong Kar wai's romances-that will fill
the bill.
S. Louisa Wei is a research
associate at the Institute of Gender and Women's Studies, Josai International
University, Japan, and writes on Chinese film for both Chinese- and English-
language publications.
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