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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