Archives for Shannon Brownlee

This is one of several movie suggestions written by students in the Chinese-Language Cinemas class of Winter 2019 (CHIN 3050/FILM 3350). For this “Playlist Project,” students looked for a film of interest not seen in class, watched and researched it, and wrote up their recommendation. More viewing suggestions will be posted each day leading up to the beginning of the new term.

Review written by Genevieve Oliver

Kaili Blues (Lu Bian Ye Can) was Gan Bi’s directorial debut, released in 2015. It is a Beijing based production filmed in Mandarin, though it also has a few short sequences in Guizhou Miao as it takes place in rural villages in the Guizhou Province. The film follows a country doctor from Kaili as he embarks on a journey to find his nephew, as per his late mother’s wishes. His partner at the clinic, an older lady, also tasks him to find her former lover, giving him a photograph as guidance. As he travels between misty, isolated villages, the distinctions between past, present, and future seem to dissolve, and Gan Bi’s immerses his storytelling in a non-linear dreamscape of floating images. The film is guided by an opening quote from the Diamond Sutra, the most important Sutra of Buddhism, that diagnoses an element of the human experience that causes suffering: “it is impossible to retain a past thought, to seize a future thought, and even to hold on to a present thought.” Gan Bi’s style of visual storytelling echoes those words on every level, evading all conventions of didactic blockbuster narrative conventions, fluidly drifting between memory to reality. There has not historically been a heavy presence of arthouse, aesthetically focused, independent cinema in China, with a market more focused on conventional genre film; for this reason, film theorist Li Yang describes this film as being a constituent of a “new independent cinema” movement taking place in China since 2010 (Yang, 2018). Quietly creeping forward elliptically through entrancing silences and implied meanings with a remarkable visual precision, Gan Bi reflects on memory and trauma in a film that blooms into something more than the sum of its parts. Nick Schager states succinctly in his review for Variety: “led by performances imbued with barely concealed sorrow, regret and longing to come to terms with that which has been lost, ‘Kaili Blues’ affords a view of people, and a nation, caught in between a haunting yesterday and — as implied by the film’s conclusion — a hopeful tomorrow” (Schager, 2016).

Li Yang describes China’s ‘new independent cinema’ as striking a balance between not overtly criticizing the state, not pandering to the market, and most importantly, a new sense of self in which “the periphery and the center are no longer static players trapped in a binary stalemate; they are immutable forces locked in ever-changing forms of conflict and compromise” (Yang, 2018). From this non-divided, fluid self comes a new vantage point from which to see Chinese society. I want to expand upon Yang’s claims of the ‘new independent cinema’ in conversation with Yomi Braester’s article “The Sectral Return of Cinema: Globalization and Cinephilia in Contemporary Chinese Film”. Braester argues that the rise of the CGI heavy blockbuster in China is “controversial mainly because of its complicity with globalization, as it encourages spectatorial consumerism, disregards local film practices, and flattens historical perspective” (Braester, 29). The globalization of the film industry engages in an erasure of collective memory, and so those taking a cinephilic perspective that sees the potential for cinema to rise through layers of collective amnesia and ideological repression regard it as a moral duty to “reaffirm cinema’s historical role, both by turning to a localized film history and by reasserting film’s indexicality as the foundation of bearing witness” (Braester, 31). I argue that Gan Bi’s representation of non-linear temporality and entrenchment in ambiguity contributes to creating the non-divided self as well as contributes to the conversations taking place in Chinese cinema about memory and representation. Those ways show that Kaili Blues is both a stunning film on its own, as well as in consideration of how the visuality reflects a distinct situatedness in a ‘new independent cinema’ in China against the globalized, blockbuster-dominated international film industry.

Kaili Blues opens slowly and quietly with a creeping panning shot around a room displaying all of the gritty details of the white room as the overhead light flickers due to the frequency of power outages before the speaking subjects are revealed. The framing often eludes the direct object of the scene, the sources of sounds, or where characters’ eyelines match. At one point, a dirty disco ball hangs directly in front of the speakers, obfuscating the shot, but as later memory flashes show the return of that disco ball motif, it becomes clear that this is a purposeful presence of repressed memory. There is no musical score, but rather the film is guided by the silences, sparse dialogue, and the ghostly presence of train horns. The cinematography begins precise and ambiguous in its capturing; it first seems fairly realistic, except for a few shots that suggest a fluidity between past and present, until a creeping panning shot reveals a train running through the middle of the room. Once the doctor commences his journey to find his nephew, a 47 minute hand-held single take begins. This section echoes what the old conception of independent cinema in China was: stark and gritty documentary features with low image quality focusing on working-class people (Yang, 2018). Once this sequence begins, all temporality loses distinction, and the camera drifts between capturing different subjects loosely connected through a slowly revealed history. Gan Bi offers a unique representation of the experience of the self in time, dissolving the distinction between memory and reality, and evading a didactic tendency in order to allow ambiguity to speak for itself. In those ways I believe Kaili Blues, is valuable in that it represents a new generation of independent Chinese film where there wasn’t previously a heavy presence of arthouse filmmaking that stands against the globalization of blockbuster films, as well as being a beautiful film standing on its own.

 

Works Cited

Braester, Yomi. “The Spectral Return of Cinema: Globalization and Cinephilia in Contemporary

Chinese Film.” Cinema Journal, vol. 55, no. 1, 2015, pp. 29–51., www.jstor.org/stable/43653484.

Schager, Nick. “Film Review: ‘Kaili Blues’.” Variety, 16 May 2016,

variety.com/2016/film/reviews/kaili-blues-review-1201773716/.

Yang, LI. “The New Filmmakers Redefining Chinese Independent Cinema.” Sixth Tone, 4 June 2018,

www.sixthtone.com/news/1002398/the-new-filmmakers-redefining-chinese-independent-cinema.

 

 

Works Consulted

IMDb. “Kaili Blues.” IMDb, 23 Mar. 2016, www.imdb.com/title/tt4613272/.

Mai, Nadin. “Kaili Blues – Bi Gan (2015).” The Art(s) of Slow Cinema, 24 Jan. 2019,

theartsofslowcinema.com/2019/01/24/kaili-blues-bi-gan-2015/.

Jaworowski, Ken. “Review: ‘Kaili Blues,’ a Dreamy Trek With Otherworldly Beauty.” The New York

Times, 19 May 2016, www.nytimes.com/2016/05/20/movies/kaili-blues-review.html.

This is one of several movie suggestions written by students in the Chinese-Language Cinemas class of Winter 2019 (CHIN 3050/FILM 3350). For this “Playlist Project,” students looked for a film of interest not seen in class, watched and researched it, and wrote up their recommendation. More viewing suggestions will be posted each day leading up to the beginning of the new term.

Review written by David Choco Manco

Contains spoilers

The Cultural Revolution took place in China from 1966 to 1976. The objective of this was to unify the masses ideologically, and during this cultural movement many film directors were either re-educated or killed by the government. This Cultural Revolution triggered the 5^th Generation Chinese film movement. The new directors of the 5^th Generation were the first directors that trained at universities such as the Beijing Film Academy. Many film makers in this generation had been part of the Red Guard and were influenced by the communist government (Chua, Chua & Yimou, 1991). The most relevant filmmaker of this generation is Zhang Yimou, who has been criticized for portraying real social life in China during in Communist times (Chua, Chua & Yimou, 1991). Consequently, the Chinese government did not permit him to release some of his movies in China. One of his most popular films is Raise the Red Lantern. This film is interesting to watch because it portrays the lives of people before the Cultural Revolution and communism. It shows gender inequality and the oppression of women before the Communist Revolution, while the communist philosophy of equality values everyone equally, giving more individuality to women. Also, since the 5th Generation filmmakers were freer to tell stories than those during the Cultural Revolution, they could express themselves more by showing the real life in China and the people’s need to survive through the economic crisis of the Cultural Revolution and previous years.

Zhang Yimou demonstrates in his film Raise the Red Lantern that tradition is the destroyer of equality by showing four women dependent on a man. According to John Young’s review, Zhang tries to represent in an indirect way the Chinese iconoclasm that started on May the Fourth of 1919 with the position, “Down with Confucius and Sons” (1993). This Chinese iconoclasm began to support many women who could not rebel against the injustices that they were suffering (Young, 1993). Zhang shows in the movie four women that are married to a man named Master Chen. without the gender equality offered by the communist government, Chinese women would live a difficult life, not being respected or treated equally, forcing them to depend on their husbands. For example, the film shows the tradition whereby mistresses receive good treatment in the film, if Master Chen chooses them. For example, Yimou shows that the mistresses receive good treatment only if Master Chen chooses them. Consequently, all the mistresses betray each other in many ways in order to keep favour such as the privilege to choose their favourite food and the foot massage. This film also shows another example of inequality, reflecting the little value men placed in women’s lives. For example, many concubines were killed if they showed control over their own bodies (Young, 1993). For example, in the film Raise the Red Lantern, the third mistress is hanged because she commits “adultery” with the family doctor (Young, 1993). She commits this adultery because she is tired of being a mistress. In this scene, Zhang tries to promote the prohibition of the polygamy that existed before the Communist Revolution.

One of the principles that communism highlights is equality. As a result, Chinese citizens start to promote the independence of women. Also, many filmmakers of the 5th Generation, who grew up under the communist system, started to promote equality in China through their films. According to Ning (1990), one of the main goals of the Directors of the 5th Generation was to create a conflict between ideological orthodoxy and basic human needs (Ning, 1990). Zhang confirms this by showing in the Raise the Red Lantern the women’s desires for independence from men and how this is affected by the traditions of that family. For example, Songlian, the fourth mistress,  shows her independence with rebellious behavior when she prefers to travel to her new master’s household on foot instead of taking the bridal sedan-chair that he had offered to her; also, she shows this independence by being a women who has studied at university. However, when she meets the other mistresses, she realizes that they are completely dependent on Master Chen and they will do anything to be his favorite. This is shown through betrayals, such as when the second mistress uses witchcraft against the fourth mistress in order to get rid of her. Eventually, Songlian’s individuality is destroyed by Master Chen’s traditional privileges, even though she knows that the rules and traditional customs are degrading and debilitating.

Many directors in this movement wanted to communicate the concerns of people after the Cultural Revolution. These concerns were about the economic crisis of China that resulted from constant conflicts of the communist party (Ning,1990). In 1980, one of the main goals of the directors was to show these effects (Ning,1990). Raise the Red Lantern is a good example of the message that the 5th Generation directors wanted to transmit. The film made by Zhang Yimou not only highlights the principal objectives of the communist government such as equality and independence but also it shows the real life of Chinese people after the conflicts. Zhang highlights the objectives of communism by showing gender inequality. He also portrays the real lives of Chinese citizens by showing the actions that some women took to survive the economic crisis.

Bibliography

Chua, Lawrence, Chua, Larry, and Yimou, Zhang. “Zhang Yimou.” BOMB 35 (1991): 28-30. Web. Accessed March 28 2019.

Ning, Ma, and Robert Sklar. “NEW CHINESE CINEMA: A CRITICAL ACCOUNT OF THE FIFTH GENERATION.” Cinéaste 17.3 (1990): 32-35. Web. Accessed March 30 2019.

Young, John. “Film Reviews — Raise the Red Lantern Directed by Zhang Yimou / The Story of Qui Ju Directed by Zhang Yimou.” The American Historical Review 98.4 (1993): 1158. Web. Accessed March 28 2019.

This is one of several movie suggestions written by students in the Chinese-Language Cinemas class of Winter 2019 (CHIN 3050/FILM 3350). For this “Playlist Project,” students looked for a film of interest not seen in class, watched and researched it, and wrote up their recommendation. More viewing suggestions will be posted each day leading up to the beginning of the new term.

Review Written by Tyler van de Ven

I highly recommend seeing Zhang Yimou’s film To Live. The film is set in the period spanning 1940s to the 1970s, covering the end of nationalist rule to the end of the Cultural Revolution. The subject of the film is a man named Xu Fugui, played by Ge You – a nobody. The film gets its namesake as it documents Fugui’s and the surrounding cast’s trials and tribulations to stay alive through this period. The film was banned in mainland China by the State Administration of Radio, Film, and Television (国家广播电视总局) for its portrayal of the Communist Party. According to a 1994 article in Screen International, a film-making ban was also imposed upon Zhang for two years. The film remained banned until 2008 when Zhang Yimou directed the 2008 Summer Olympics opening ceremony.¹ By this time, the Chinese government had declared he had been fully “rehabilitated”. Despite the troubles at home, the film was received internationally with acclaim and was runner up for the Palme d’Or at the 1994 Cannes Film Festival, losing to Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction. So why do I think you should see it? Firstly, its accurate portrayal of historical events makes it an important example of Chinese 5^th Generation film. Secondly, I believe that it is an enjoyable film by its own merits, aside from political messages.

To Live shares a similar timeframe and setting with Chen Kaige’s (陈凯歌) Farewell My Concubine (霸王別姬). Unlike To Live, Farewell My Concubine won the Palme d’Or in 1993, and as a result of the international acclaim and the pressure of outcry from overseas, the film had its ban lifted and a modified version (toning down and censoring the homosexuality, violence and suicide) was released to mainland theatres. As stated earlier, To Live remained banned and Zhang faced immense opposition from the Chinese government until 2008. As Liang Shi states, while the film did still receive a nomination for the Palme d’Or in 1994, it ended up being largely ignored compared to Farewell My Concubine or even Zhang’s previous successes, Red Sorghum (红高粱) (1987), Ju Dou (菊豆) (1990), and Raise the Red Lantern (大红灯笼高高挂) (1991). He claims the reason is three-fold.² Firstly, Chinese film of the 5^th Generation directors (the first wave of directors who graduated from film school to which both Zhang and Chen belong) is loosely defined as being very experimental, avant-garde, and usually are rife with social criticism. While To Live certainly has the socio-political criticism, and certainly has the budget and big-name actors of a 5^th Generation film, it is said to not do anything new or revolutionary in terms of cinematography (which I will not go into because I know nothing of cinematography). Secondly, Liang points out that after Farewell My Concubine, the world was growing tired of 5^th Generation cinema, and To Live is the last 5^th Generation film to win a major international award (it received the Grand Prix at Cannes, the second highest honour next to the Palme d’Or). I personally find this ridiculous, as I believe it discredits film to disregard something because it is no longer “in vogue”. Finally, also as an extension of the first reason, the film was overshadowed by Farewell My Concubine, which could be seen as having the same commentary, but with far more flair, colour and intrigue. While it is true that To Live is certainly more down to earth than Farewell My Concubine, I will discuss later why I believe this to act in the film’s favour. Now that I have covered the context and the more objective points of the film, I will now go over why I personally find it to be an excellent film.

I largely enjoyed this film for how real it felt, compared to those seen in other films we watched this semester. As stated before, it does not have the same flair and intrigue as Farewell My Concubine; however, I find the lack of flashy cinematography, intrigue, and overall flair helps the film feel more relatable. Both are fantastic films, don’t get me wrong, but Farewell My Concubine feels much more like a stage production, and its focus on the bourgeois makes it difficult to put oneself in the character’s shoes. As To Live follows a cast of characters that are supposed to represent the average people, it makes the whole film feel real, like you’re there with them as opposed to watching a production. The film also weaves light-hearted moments into the tragic moments which sets it apart from a film like The Boat People which feels like it is constantly punching you to drive its point home. In this, it also becomes more relatable, as in the real world, things tend to not be so black and white. It also does not feel like it is trying to push a political agenda, as is the case with films like The Boat People (投奔怒海) and Red Detachment of Women ( 红色娘子军). It is there to tell a story that has ups and downs, characters aren’t defined by their political agendas (there is one character who is a Red Guard who is quite likeable as well as a Communist Party devotee who portrayed quite positively) and it all makes the film feel more real. The characters (of the main cast at least) are a reason I personally enjoyed this film as they act and think in a very human way. They all have their assets and flaws, and act in believable ways. Whereas Red Detachment sells caricatures meant to serve and emphasize specific goals, To Live has far more depth of character. As Yimou puts it:

I believe that for a long time now Chinese films have been too abstract, conceptual, gimmicky. They don’t relate at all to the lives of ordinary Chinese people. I’m certain that most audiences will like this film. We haven’t gone overboard on the tragic elements, but rather have focused on the minute, amusing details in the life of a nobody. There are tears and laughter, one following the other in a gentle rhythm like the breath of a bellows.³ -Zhang Yimou

The film is not trying to exaggerate and emphasize positivity or negativity. The film is not there to demonize the Communist anymore than a history book would. It shows things as they were without giving its opinions. The film simply is there to humbly tell its tale, without attaching a myriad of bells and whistles to garner attention. It is simply a story of an ordinary Joe’s journey through time, and I believe it has charm in its simple complexities.

 

Works Cited/Further Reading

1. Frater, Patrick “China bars Yimou while welcoming Warner Bros.” Screen International. Sept 1994: 1. Print.
2. Liang Shi “The Daoist Cosmic Discourse in Zhang Yimou’s To Live.” Film Criticism Vol. 24 Issue 2 (1999/2000): 2-16. Print.
3. I could not track the original quote to its primary source, it has been cited in numerous works. This is a secondary source: Wang Rujie “’To Live’ Beyond Good and Evil.” Asian Cinema 12 (2001): 74-90.

 

Review written by Haley Dawe

Dear Ex (誰先愛上他的) , an award winning 2018 Taiwanese film directed by Mag Hsu and Hsu Chih-Yen, is an unorthodox story of love and grief. This dark comedy depicts three people tangled in their shared love for one man, Zhengyuan, and the wreck of emotion and money that his death brings. Zhengyuan’s son, Chen-xi, finds himself in the middle of a family feud after his father dies of cancer, leaving his insurance money behind. Sanlian, Zhengyuan’s ex-wife and Chen-xi’s mother, becomes irate when she discovers that the insurance money wasn’t left to her son. Instead it was left to Zhengyuan’s gay lover, Jay, who he lived his final days with. Sanlian does everything in her means to claim the money in order to cover her son’s schooling costs, but finds herself pushing Chen-xi further away in the process. Because of this tension, Chen-xi becomes increasingly closer to Jay, who he had painted as the bad guy that stole his father from him. As their relationship grows he finds himself asking “He is the bad guy, right?”. Ultimately this film evolves into a story not just of grief and love, but of forgiveness and reconciliation as the characters open up emotionally.

The cinematography in this film is beautiful. It’s filled with vivid colours and neon lights that complement the melodrama of the characters. The film uniquely integrates animations of what are meant to be Chen-xi’s drawings into the story. This serves as symbolism and insight into how Chen-xi feels about certain relationships and actions. For example, during a scene where Jay is comforting the sick Zhengyuan in the bathroom who is losing hair due to chemo treatments, we see the two embrace. Chen-xi’s animated drawing of a door closing over the bathroom shot portray how he feels uncomfortable about his dad’s sexuality and the love he and Jay shared. Combined with these animations, the bright, energetic colours of the film, similar to that of a soap opera or rom-com, help to keep the mood of the movie lively and allow for a more comfortable incorporation of comedy into a story filled with such heavy themes such as death and familial separation.

Taiwan has has a rich and long history with LGBTQ movies. Not only is it home to directors like Ang Lee, who is well known for his film Brokeback Mountain, or Tso-Chi Chang who directed Rebels of the Neon God (青少年哪吒), Taiwan also hosts a renowned LGBTQ film festival annually called The Taiwan International Queer Film Festival (Spencer; Wang, Chen & Hashim 325). In Taiwan, It has become the norm for there to be at least two LGBTQ themed movies available to watch in cinemas annually, which could be considered progressive in comparison to the laws surrounding such films in nearby asian countries (Wang, Chen & Hashim).

Works Cited
Wang Changsong, Chen Yiming, and Rohani Hashim. “Youth Cinema: Young Taiwanese Lesbian on Screen.” Journal of Sociological Research, vol. 3, no. 2, 29 Sept. 2012, p. 325-332.

Spencer, David. “7 Reasons Why Taiwan Is the Best LGBT Destina…” Taiwan News, Taiwan News, 29 July 2018, www.taiwannews.com.tw/en/news/3492498.

Strait, Eddie. “Netflix’s ‘Dear Ex’ Is a Darkly Funny Must-Watch about the Grieving Process.” The Daily Dot, 5 Feb. 2019, www.dailydot.com/upstream/netflix-dear-ex-review/.

Tsai, Caroline. “DEAR EX Review: A Candid Story Of An Unexpected Love Triangle.” Birth.Movies.Death., 15 Feb. 2019, birthmoviesdeath.com/2019/02/15/dear-ex-review-a-candid-story-of-an-unexpected-love-triangle.

 

This is one of several movie suggestions written by students in the Chinese-Language Cinemas class of Winter 2019 (CHIN 3050/FILM 3350). For this “Playlist Project,” students looked for a film of interest not seen in class, watched and researched it, and wrote up their recommendation. More viewing suggestions will be posted each day leading up to the beginning of the new term.

Review written by Kelly Li

Nominated for a Palme d’Or and winning Cannes’ ‘Best Director’ award, Wong Kar-wai’s Happy Together (1997) is amongst the Hong Kong auteur’s most internationally recognized films, but also carries tremendous sociopolitical significance in Chinese-language and Asian cinemas. Made at the midpoint of Wong’s career, the film is considered a part of the Hong Kong Second Wave, successors to the New Wave that catalyzed a surge of international attention. Starring Tony Leung Chiu-wai and Leslie Cheung—regular collaborators of Wong’s as well as two of Hong Kong’s most acclaimed and beloved actors—as a young gay couple, the film follows their volatile romance as they travel away from Hong Kong to Argentina in an attempt to salvage their relationship. Early on in their trip, Lai Yiu-fai (Leung) and Ho Po-wing (Cheung) become fixated on visiting the famous Iguazu Falls, but their lack of money and ceaseless cycle of fights, abuse, break-ups, and make-ups keep them in limbo, preventing them from arriving at their destination together. Po-wing, who is rash, destructive, and overtly manipulative, weaves in and out of Yiu-fai’s apartment as he experiments with relationships with other men. Meanwhile, Yiu-fai, who is more committed but no less toxic, tries to focus on work and earning enough money to get himself back home to Hong Kong. Photographed by Christopher Doyle, Happy Together exhibits a remarkable visual style that is idiosyncratic to Doyle’s and Wong’s collaborations together, marked by deeply saturated colours, sensuous textures, and experimental use of film stock. Over two decades later, the film still holds its own as a piece of queer Chinese cinema—exploring sexuality alongside Hong Kong’s colonial identity.

On the record, Wong has stated that part of his decision to write this story about a gay couple was because he was dissatisfied with the way most Hong Kong films portrayed homosexuality, “because they treat it specially; there must be something different” (Eng). For him, it is important the story of Happy Together “so happens” to be about two men, rather than treating a homosexual romance as something intrinsically different from heterosexual romances (Eng). At the same time, Po-wing’s and Yiu-fai’s gay identities are culturally important, as Audrey Yue argues that Happy Together was among the first East Asian films to feature “the visibility of queer subjects” (Yue 147). Though by 1997 homosexuality had been legal in parts of Asia for several years or longer—six years in Hong Kong—the critical acclaim it received, as well as its popularity amongst both “queer and mainstream straight audiences in the West and across Asia” helped ignite a sudden change in attitude in Asia (Yue 146-7). Formerly taboo and illegal, homosexuality could now be regarded with positivity. The fact that it was rated a Category III film in Hong can be attributed moreso to sexually explicit scenes rather than the appearance of homosexuality (Davis 17).

Happy Together’s historical locus and zeitgeist also figure importantly in its relation to the much-anticipated handover of Hong Kong from Britain to China. The film’s release in May 1997 was less than two months away from the official transfer on July 1^st. Wong has stated that he chose to shoot the Happy Together in Argentina because he was constantly being asked whether his upcoming film was about the handover, but after spending “about four months,” he realized that “in fact, we missed HK very much; we all wanted to go back home” (Eng). While we could read the fact that the film was shot almost completely outside of Hong Kong—primarily in Argentina, and with a segment in Taiwan—as pragmatically escapist, Wong’s decision to situate the story’s timeline as being from 1995 to 1997 does tie it to this very crucial moment in the collective consciousness of Hong Kong identity.[1] David Pountain argues that the “emotional rootlessness and geographical displacement” of Po-wing and Yiu-fai “echoes the lonely ambivalence of a population who weren’t sure what home was anymore, with the Hong Kong identity currently in a state of flux.” The film’s characters feel like reluctant transients; pulled away from their homelands and from relationships because of their unhappiness rather than any real desire to explore, they come no closer to finding happiness nor belonging away from home. The film reflects, directly and indirectly, historically momentous turning points in Hong Kong society, both in terms of queer acceptance and its changing autonomy and cultural identity.

 

Footnotes

[1] One of Wong’s later films, 2046, also relates to Hong Kong’s status of sovereignty, referencing the year 2047, in which Hong Kong is to lose its political autonomy and be re-incorporated into China’s governmental system.

Works Consulted

Chew, Yi Wei. “Projections of Diasporic Sensibilities through Travel: Wong Kar Wai in/and ‘My Blueberry Nights’.” Cinema Journal, vol. 54, no. 4, 2015, pp. 50-73, https://www.jstor.org/stable/43653128. Accessed 1 April 2019.

Davis, Darrell W. and Yeh Yueh-Yu. “Warning! Category III: The Other Hong Kong Cinema.” Film Quarterly, vol. 54, no. 4, 2001, pp. 12-26, https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/fq.2001.54.4.12. Accessed 1 April 2019.

Eng, David and Lebinh Khoi. “Wong Kar-wai Exclusive Interview.” Asia Studios, retrieved from Internet Archive on 29 December 2007, https://web.archive.org/web/20071229154411/http://www.asiastudios.com/interviews/members/wongkarwai.html. Accessed 1 April 2019.

Lee, Edmund. “In pictures: Happy Together—the Tony Leung-Leslie Cheung romance that put Wong Kar-wai on the world map—turns 20.” South China Morning Post, 14 May 2017, https://www.scmp.com/culture/film-tv/article/2094145/pictures-happy-together-tony-leung-leslie-cheung-romance-put-wong. Accessed 1 April 2019.

Pountain, David. “How the cinema of Wong Kar-wai reflects a Hong Kong in transition.” Little White Lies, 18 July 2017, https://lwlies.com/articles/wong-kar-wai-cinema-hong-kong-transition. Accessed 1 April 2019.

Yue, Audrey. “Queer Asian Cinema and Media Studies: From Hybridity to Critical Regionality.” Cinema Journal, vol. 53, no. 2, 2014, pp. 145-151, www.jstor.org/stable/43653576. Accessed 1 April 2019.

 

This is one of several movie suggestions written by students in the Chinese-Language Cinemas class of Winter 2019 (CHIN 3050/FILM 3350). For this “Playlist Project,” students looked for a film of interest not seen in class, watched and researched it, and wrote up their recommendation. More viewing suggestions will be posted each day leading up to the beginning of the new term.

Review written by Julia Walker

我不是药神, set in Shanghai, is a 2018 film from mainland China that translates directly to I am not a Medicine God. However, the film is commonly known in English as Dying to Survive. This was the debut feature film for Wen Muye, who co-wrote the screenplay and directed the film. Dying to Survive was inspired by a real life story of a store merchant who helped illegally smuggle Indian-made generic cancer drugs into China to help people who were suffering from leukemia who could not afford the real patented medication. A misfit group of five individuals make up the members of the smuggling team. Together, their personalities and actions bring comedy to a heavy topic movie. The film won multiple “Best Feature Film” titles worldwide from various international and domestic film festivals (CGTN, 2018). Through the comedic and melancholy tones, Dying to Survive shows themes of struggle and resilience of people fighting to stay alive. Although it deviates slightly from the true story, the film highlights the state of the current medical system in China by showing how affected individuals struggle to survive.

This is an important film because it highlights real issues that are affecting populations in China. Although the film has a comedic tone, it does emphasise the reality that many Chinese people face when they are suffering with diseases that they cannot afford medication for. Some argue that the current film industry, especially films made in Hollywood, lack social realism (CGTN, 2018). One definition of social realism in film is the realistic cinematic portrayal of the lower classes in society, often representing this group’s fears or concerns (Konsinska, 2011). This genre shines through the film as it is lower class people who cannot afford the medication and who beg the merchant to smuggle drugs for them. This shows their desperation to live, which reflects the real life struggles that people face in China. This realistic approach allowed the film to captivate audiences in China and across the world as it is seen to be fresh in comparison to unrealistic superficial films that have been recently released.

In addition to the realism of the film, it can be argued that the film is a social criticism on China’s medical system (CGTN, 2018). Although China has a national healthcare system, not all medications are covered by the medical insurance (Chen et al., 2016). Moreover, the government encourages its people to purchase expensive commercial insurance instead for if they need extended coverage (Chen et al., 2016). This problem is criticized by the film as the protagonist smuggles an equally effective cancer drug from India in order for patients to have more affordable access to the medication. This levels the charge that there is a flaw in the medical care system as it cannot support individuals’ recoveries by providing affordable medications. Thus, lower income citizens are forced to search for illegal alternatives just to be able to survive. The criticism of the medical system, however, is subtle enough for the film not to be censored when shown in China. Films have to be reviewed by the censorship board in order to be approved to be made in China. Some might be surprised that this film got approved since it is commenting on a government supplied medical system. However, this film has the correct balance of criticism without exceeding the limits in order to pass the censorship review board (Shepherd & Li, 2018). This could be because the film highlights the issues in the system without outright blaming the government for the outcomes.

Another reason this film is important and should be watched is because it addresses the moral dilemma between following the rule of law and or breaking it to save a life. One reason for medications to have high costs in China is there are few domestic pharmaceutical companies (CGTN, 2019). Therefore, almost all drugs are manufactured and imported from international locations, thus increasing the costs of the drugs. One suggestion is for China to start a nationalized pharmaceutical company to produce domestic drugs in order to lower the costs of the medications (CGTN, 2019). Gleevec, a Swiss-made patented cancer drug imported to China, has been continuously prescribed to individuals suffering from chronic myeloid leukemia (CML) (Lucas, 2019). The patented version of the drug was costing Chinese patients around the equivalent to $USD 3777 per month to purchase (Lucas, 2019). This was causing many individuals who suffer from CML to either not get treatment or go into debt attempting to do so. The Indian-made generic drug would cost the equivalent of $USD 436 per month; however, this is when the drug is illegally distributed (Lucas, 2019). Although this is still expensive, the illegal importation of the Indian drug made the medication slightly more affordable than the patented legal version. However, the hidden cost of obtaining the Indian generic drug is the fact that it is illegal to buy and sell unregulated drugs in China, therefore it is risky for the distributor and the consumer to seek the illegal alternative (Hunwick, 2014). Although the individuals involved could have faced prison time, the real life smuggler, Lu, “would do the same thing if [he] could go back” (Hunwick, 2014). This shows that Lu believed helping sick people was worth the risk of possible prison time. The film’s version of the smuggler originally sought only profit from the drug deal. However, once he saw the impact he was making by saving lives he saw the greater good to the operation even though, ultimately, what he is doing was illegal. This is a moral dilemma that causes audiences to have to think about the situation when they watch the film. Therefore, this film is significant because it tackles issues that are complex and thought provoking for the audience.

Although the direct link between Dying to Survive and government policy change cannot be proven, some see the film as a call to action to the Chinese government to look into changing the medical system to make medications like Gleevec fall under medical insurance (CGTN, 2019). For example, following the film, 36 new drugs were added to the Chinese national drug reimbursement list, including Gleevec (Lucas, 2019). Thus, supporting the claim that the film might have had an impact on the system. Ultimately, through realism and comedy, this film has served as a way for the world to see the realities of the hardships that Chinese citizens face when attempting to fight a disease and not being able to afford the medication.

 

Works Consulted

CGTN (2018). ‘Dying to Survive’ hits nerve on costly cancer drugs. [Video File]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-uXbkiaEvuA

Chen, Y., Xu, X., Liu, G., & Xiang, P. (2016). Brief Introduction of Medical Insurance System in China. Asia-Pacific Journal of Oncology Nursing, 3(1), 51-53. doi 10.4103/2347-5625.178172

Hunwick, R. (2014). Chinese ‘Dallas Buyers Club’ founder charged with fraud. The  Telegraph. Retrieved from https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/china/11308250/Chinese-Dallas-Buyers-Club-founder-charged-with-fraud.html

Konsinska, K. (2011). Style and attitude: Social(ist) realism in the Polish Black series and British free cinema. Studies in Eastern European Cinema, 2(1), 193-209. Retrieved from https://www-tandfonline-com.ezproxy.library.dal.ca/doi/pdf/10.1386/seec.2.2.193_1?needAccess=true

Lucas, C. (2019). Dying to Survive and cancer care in China. The Lancet: Oncology, 20(1) 30. Retrieved from https://ac-els-cdn com.ezproxy.library.dal.ca/S1470204518309215/1-s2.0-S1470204518309215-main.pdf?_tid=d5ea03e7-bda9-4db6-b2fa-bde79642f8dc&acdnat=1553133127_e751718d76a9f97eb135851993c83d6d

Shepherd, C., & Li, P. (2018). Cancer drug movie strikes nerve in China, becomes box-office hit. Reuters. Retrieved from https://mobile.reuters.com/article/amp/idUSKBN1K80TH

 

This is the first of several movie suggestions written by students in the Chinese-Language Cinemas class of Winter 2019 (CHIN 3050/FILM 3350). For this “Playlist Project,” students looked for a film of interest not seen in class, watched and researched it, and wrote up their recommendation. More viewing suggestions will be posted each day leading up to the beginning of the new term.

Review written by Victoria Dugdill

Its title, 跛豪/Bŏ Háo, literally means “lame, powerful person.” Poon Man-Kit’s To Be Number One follows the story of real-life 1960s gangster Ng Sik-Ho, famous for becoming crippled due to gang fighting (Choi, 2018). Starting out as a mere labourer, Ho soon develops a taste for power after working for Master Kwan, and the two become bitter rivals in the battles for triad territory in Hong Kong. The film was created by the Golden Harvest Production Company and draws on ideas of wŭchǎng music during action-packed fight sequences through a cacophony of harsh electronic beats, planting itself as both a modern film and one rooted in the traditions of Chinese cinema. It employs motifs of brotherhood, developing a theme of loyalty throughout. The film is important, as it serves as both a window to a less talked about triad culture within Hong Kong and as a commentary on the history of the area and the legacy of its establishment as a drug running base.

The film demonstrates historical ties between Hong Kong and ideas of fraternity, particularly through the highly prevalent triad culture. The triads themselves predate drug trafficking in Hong Kong, with many being the result of ‘coolie houses,’ or homes for working-class men of the same ethnic background (Chu, 2000, 17). These notions of brotherhood are an especially important motif in the film, and Ho and his right-hand man, Ming, have their humble beginnings as kitchen workers before turning to crime. This idea continues throughout, as when conducting business, Ho regularly comments on the backgrounds of his clients and accomplices to establish familiarity. In this way, the film serves to paint a modern image of an age-old means of survival by establishing bonds through shared history. This is done while simultaneously weaving this image into the criminal environment which resulted from territory disputes and ‘triadisation’ (Chu, 2000, 19). The film also effectively enables the audience to glimpse at the inner workings of a lesser known culture within Hong Kong i.e. how the triads themselves functioned during this time. While the triads did have a system of hierarchy in the form of ‘masters’ and their deputies, they functioned more as a loose system of cartels, each containing smaller societies (Chu, 2000, 22-23). This is regularly seen in the film not only through the various masters within but also in the relative autonomy lower-ranking members seem to enjoy.

Additionally, in depicting the underbelly of one of Britain’s once prized territories, To Be Number One heavily references the repercussions of drug trafficking in Hong Kong, and the violence which facilitated the colony’s creation. By the early 1900s, almost 30% of men in Hong Kong were opium addicts (Ismi, 1997). This issue of addiction is depicted through the character Ming, whose descent into addiction is heavily prevalent in the film, alluding to the damaging legacy of opium in exchange for wealth and the lasting impacts of Hong Kong’s establishment as a British colony. By the 1970s, British and Chinese authorities had also established close working relationships with the drug cartels (Ismi, 1997). This corruption is made evident from some of the earliest sequences in the film, as through the story of Inspector Lui, whose ties with the triad masters enable to them to essentially function outside the law, demonstrating the insidious ways in which the Hong Kong drug trade infiltrated government institutions. The film also does not hold back on violence, which is both demonstrative of the legacy of Hong Kong’s establishment as a colony and the ways in which the violence of the opium trade can corrupt society. Particularly, the film draws on actual events to tell its story such as with gang members disguising themselves as Chinese People’s Liberation soldiers on the pretext of raiding rival ships trafficking heroin (Linter, 91). This instance of gang rivalry is brutally depicted on screen as Ho’s men board a Thai ship in disguise and torture the sailors on board in search of stashed heroin.

Through its illustrations of brotherhood and frank depictions of crime, To Be Number One serves as a meaningful piece of Hong Kong cinema. Its portrayals of triad culture shed light on survival methods employed by early immigrants to the area, and the brutality in its depictions of crime succinctly reinforces the corrupting legacy of colonization and drug trafficking. In what could be viewed as a testament to its importance, the film has also been remade as the 2017 movie Chasing the Dragon (追龍), a slang phrase referencing to the consumption of heroin (Strang et al., 1997). This new interpretation of the story alludes to the relevance of the original piece, and a desire to see the story re-told for a new audience.

 

Bibliography

Choi, Martin. “When Hong Kong’s most notorious drug lord Limy Ho, ‘the biggest Mr. Big,’ was caught.” South China Morning Post. 16 Nov. 2018.https://www.scmp.com/magazines/post-magazine/short-reads/article/2173305/when-hong-kongs-most-notorious-drug-lord-limpy. Accessed 29 March 2019.

Chu, Yiu Kong. The Triads as Business. London; New York: Routledge, 2000. Routledge Studies in the Modern History of Asia; 6. Web.

Ismi, Asad. “Her Majesty’s Drug Traffickers: Britain, Hong Kong and the Opium Wars.” Peace Magazine 13.6 (1997): 11. Web.

Lintner, Bertil. “Chinese Organised Crime.” Global Crime 6.1 (2004): 84-96. Web.

Strang, J, P. Griffiths, and M. Gossop. “Heroin smoking by ‘chasing the dragon’: origins and history.” US National Library of Medicine, 4National Institutes of Health. June 1997. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/9246796. Accessed 29 March 2019.