Maggie Cheung and her German boyfriend

According to HongKong media reports, world classs Chinese actress Maggie Cheung is to marry her German boyfriend Ole Scheeren by the end of the year.

43 years old Maggie Cheung has always put her love life first. She had a few ups and downs in her love life, but she somehow managed to get over it. After her 4 years marriage ended with the French film director Olivier Assayas, she fell in love with Guillaume Brochard, managing director of Ebel in La Chaux-de-Fonds, Switzerland. Last year Maggie announced in Taiwan that she had broken off with Olivier. She was very upset about it. Within 3 months, Maggie met Ole Scheeren, a German architect (based in Beijing) who is 6 years her junior. They went to a party in London and have been living in Beijing together.

Clean (2004): 2/5

Oliver Assayas directs Maggie Cheung in this horribly disjointed story about drugs and coming, well, Clean. I saw this film on the French Film Festival in Shangri-La, and I think I can say that I've seen this film more than a thousand times already due to the endless cliches and exhausted storyline. Perhaps it's the worn-out rock and roll junkie story we're tired of hearing, or the sketchy characterization. Or Nick Nolte's resounding Hulk performance. Or maybe just bad storytelling set to a global backdrop.

Yet somehow 'Clean' manages to transform from a seemingly meaningless film into something of substance. Maybe it's because of the soundtrack. Or maybe because of Maggie Cheung. Yes, we're definitely in the mood for Maggie Cheung.

Ashes of Time Redux

GRADE: A
Director: Wong Kar Wai
Cast: Leslie Cheung, Tony Leung Ka Fai, Maggie Cheung, Brigiette Lin, Tony Leung Chiu Wai
Rated R for some violence.
Runtime: 93 min.
Release company: Sony Pictures Classics
www.sonyclassics.com/ashesoftimeredux

To be released Oct. 10, 2008.

You don't often encounter films with the breadth of Ashes of Time Redux, films which function as enhanced narratives that aspire to the level of fables or myths.  1994’s original Ashes of Time was the first film put out by Wong Kar Wai’s newly christened Jet Tone Productions, and it was during a two month break in Ashes’ production that Wong and his ideal cinematographer, Christopher Doyle, shot the lark that became Chungking Express – and without intending to disparage his subsequent works, I suggest that 1994 is the best year of Wong’s career.

In China there is an esoteric genre called Jianghu that has steadily seeped into international regard and popularity, Jianghu films being, basically, ancient fantasy martial arts stories – perhaps you’d recognize Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon or Hero as the most accessible of these to American audiences.  Ashes’ story comes from Louis Cha’s Jianghu novel, The Eagle-Shooting Heroes.  Starting with two 70 year old legendary characters and working backwards, Wong presents Ashes as a series of vignettes which detail the meaty middle years of these two characters before time would remember them in its own way.  Main character Leslie Cheung plays the future Lord of the West, now in his mid-30’s, utterly jaded and withering away in the desert, hiring out wandering warriors to others in need of a little force (he’s kind of a ‘producer’).  Four notable passersby make up the tales of Ashes: old loner friend and future Lord of the East (Tony Leung Ka Fai), a heartbroken brother/sister [sic] who almost stabs herself in the back,  Yin/Yang (Brigitte Lin), the soon-to-be eponymous blind samurai (Tony Leung Chiu Wai), and a rash, indefatigable young warrior (Jacky Cheung) whose exuberance touches even the jaded man.  Said jaded man confines himself to watching time pass around him, trapped in his memories of the love that was lost (Maggie Cheung) because of pride.  Ever the romantic, Wong’s characters see little of the world beyond their own hearts.

Ashes of Time Redux restores the original film print to the highest quality that was possible from the original - which, while not perfect, is very, very pretty.  The original 2nd rate synth score was rearranged and recorded, and a few scenes were shot and added, including digital titles.  7 minutes have been shaved from the length of the original due to lost footage - despite that, Redux feels perfectly concise.  As Wong favors it, the film's action is generally filmed at a low shutter speed, creating frenetic blurs of fury and superhuman combat that, frankly, are almost impossible to follow.  Clearly that isn't the point - the "idea of violence" is meant to be transferred to the audience.  Ashes of Time was an adaptation and a reinvention; Ashes does to the Jianghu genre what Wong's touch does to most products – sensualizes and melodramaticizes.  I found Ashes to be possibly his best work because of the scope involved in the telling of the story… but that’s just because the minutiae alone are not enough to sustain my interest – ironically, Wong’s contribution to film is inarguably his singular brand of ‘minutiae sight.’

But ‘minutiae sight’ is a process, a formula, not a story.  Perhaps this is why Wong’s films get old once you know what to expect.  Incidentally, Ashes is narrative unlike most films you’d see, and regarding your understanding of the product, it really helps to know the sort of film you’re getting into before it starts.  It’s a very singular flavor that most Americans are not prepared for.  Prep by viewing the trailer, at the least.

Wong’s technique of filmmaking is highly instinctual; he feels his way through a situation, a script, a story.  In that sense, Wong was at his freshest when he was young and enterprising.  International acclaim and the luxury of time have relaxed him – inevitably – and the questions that drove him into the business, the strong questions, have been dealt with.  Now Wong must adapt and evolve his technique and the nature of his stories if he is to continue improving as a filmmaker.  Regarding his current aesthetic, he peaked in 1994 and has expounded on and formalized that technique ever since.  My Blueberry Nights proved that this technique is growing stale.  The Lady From Shanghai (no relation to the original) will be next.

Hero is a staggeringly beautiful film, drenched in earthy colors and supple textures. This is less an action movie and more akin to a ballet with characters soaring through the air, defying gravity and moving with incredible grace. So don't get me wrong - I admire Hero enormously for its visual flair and superb choreography. It's just I also found it a hollow experience emotionally.

Set over 2,000 years ago in a China that was still divided into warring states, Zhang Yimou's Hero tells the story of a nameless warrior who arrives at the court of the head of the Qin dynasty. This nameless warrior presents the King with the swords of three of his greatest enemies - the assassins Broken Sword, Flying Snow and Long Sky - and is asked to tell the story of how he killed each of them.

The nameless warrior is played by Jet Li and is thrilling in the film's action sequences but stuggles in the quieter moments. This is not Li's fault, rather it is a problem intrinsic to a character who will not reveal his identity or his nature to the film's other central character, the King. Nameless, personality-less characters are all very well, but it is hard to establish an emotional connection with one.

Fortunately the accounts the nameless warrior gives are far more intriguing than the framework narrative in which they are presented. There are several accounts of precisely how the nameless warrior came by each of the weapons, with distinctive color palettes and textures.

Several moments are staggeringly, memorably beautiful. I defy anyone to view this film and not be impressed by the use of water in a fight scene set in a chess house or to marvel at a gorgeous scene filled with falling reddish leaves as a character lies dying. Not to mention an incredible sequence where arrows rain down on a calligraphy school.

These sequences also feature two other important characters, Broken Sword and Flying Moon. Unlike the nameless warrior, they are more fleshed out with clearer motivations. Their relationship is the only emotional hook that really stuck with me, unfolding slowly with each retelling of events.

After the nameless warrior gives his account of how he acquired the swords, the King of Qin challenges his account, dissecting it and presenting his own version. Predictably critics have compared this to Kurosawa's Rashomon yet the similarities are only superficial. Yes, both films feature unreliable narrators but Hero fails to sustain its central mystery and has a clear conclusion.

Perhaps the other significant difference is that whereas Rashomon's themes are philosophical, Hero's seem more political. Despite the King of Qin being portrayed as a warmonger and a despot, the film argues that it is better for the country to be unified under a brutal dictator than divided into factions. A nationalist tone that makes me uneasy when I think about China's status in the world today. It made me wonder if the intention of the film is to argue that it is better for a country to be strong than to be concerned with rights and freedoms. Not a message I am all that comfortable with.

However Hero's politics and themes cannot detract from the scale its achievements. Its visuals are vivid and memorable and the film is well-cast, although it does not make the most of Jet Li as an actor. I may not be entirely comfortable with what the film's apparent messages but it is impossible not to be affected by the lush cinematography or the film's beautiful costumes and sets.

Everyone is familiar with the conventions of the Hollywood film narrative. This isn’t a reason not to study Hollywood – or to take the conventions for granted. Hollywood, as befits the dominant institution in cinema across the world, is highly dynamic and constantly evolving in terms of film narrative. However, it is often difficult to analyse the films you know best. It helps to have some ‘distance’ from the films we study and one way to do this is to study some films that are ‘not Hollywood’ in order to make comparisons. Often by ‘comparing and contrasting’ similar films from different systems we notice much more about them than if we looked at only one system.

Hero is a film that is recognisable as a traditional Chinese genre, first from literature and then from cinema. The wu xia pian or ‘martial chivalry film’ has gone through several cycles of popularity in the cinemas of the ‘three Chinas’ (‘mainland China’, Hong Kong and Taiwan) since the early 1950s. The genre has been affected by events outside China, not least the worldwide success of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (US/China/Taiwan/Hong Kong 2000). The director of Crouching Tiger was Ang Lee, a Chinese-American who made the film as a tribute to the films he had enjoyed as a child in Taiwan.

Hero could not have been made on the scale (i.e. with the budget) that is apparent on screen without the success of Crouching Tiger. Although Hero has a Chinese director, Zhang Yimou, he is known in the West for his ‘art films’, most of which have been melodramas – not ‘action films’ in the Western sense. The four big stars of Hero are divided into two who are widely known for ‘non-action’ roles in Hong Kong Cinema (Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung) and two genuine martial arts stars who have moved from Hong Kong to Hollywood (Jet Li and Donnie Yen). Because of these ‘global considerations’ and the backgrounds of the individuals concerned, Hero could not be a straight ‘martial chivalry’ picture – and this means it will have found different audiences, who will have ‘read’ the film in different ways.

Narrative Structure
Hero uses the narrative device known as a ‘flashback’. The film starts in the present (a ‘present’ 2,200 years ago) and then Nameless begins to tell his story, allowing narrative time to be ‘re-wound’. But there is a twist since it becomes apparent that Nameless may not be a reliable narrator. He is prompted by the King to remember things differently, so that we experience some of the same events twice with different outcomes as the stories are re-told. Towards the end of the film, the narrative returns to the present and in this final sequence we experience events in parallel – what is happening to Nameless in the palace and what is happening to Broken Sword and Flying Snow in the mountains.

This kind of narrative structure is not unique, although it is unusual. It fits a genre set in a ‘pre-industrial society’ where there are no cameras or audio recorders, no ‘evidence’ of what happened. It is part of an ‘oral tradition’ where people tell stories and within a wu xia it works because one aspect of a duel between warriors is ‘sizing up’ an opponent. Defeating an enemy is not all about action. It also involves psychology and out-thinking an enemy. Interestingly, one of the most famous films that used a similar structure was Rashômon (Japan 1950) – a film which director Zhang has referred to as an influence. Rashômon is set in 12th century Japan where a man is murdered and his wife raped. The accused is allowed to tell his story, which is very different from the wife’s. Then he changes his story and a witness gives a fourth version. The film raises the question “what is truth”. In Hero we get at least three different narrators. Nameless begins the story, but is then interrupted by the King and later by Broken Sword, both of whom recount their own experiences which Nameless would not necessarily know.

The different versions of events in Hero refer to an assassination plot (and a great romance) but the film does seem to end with a ‘resolution’. Nameless dies a hero’s death and Flying Snow dies with Broken Sword dead in her arms. China is eventually unified. But is this the end of the ‘story’? Because of the history of the writer-director and the nature of the wu xia genre, what do we take away from the story? Are we confident that the second version of events is more truthful than the first?

Questions of colour, cinematography etc.
The writer-director of Hero, Zhang Yimou, trained as a cinematographer in the Beijing Film School and emerged in the early 1980s as one of the ‘Fifth Generation’ of Chinese filmmakers. Several of the filmmakers from this period became famous around the world as their films received screenings overseas and won prizes at festivals. In the late 1980s China emerged from a long period of isolation from the rest of the world and many of the films seen in the West were interpreted as saying something about the history of China under Mao Zedong in the 1950s to 1970s – not directly, but by means of metaphor.

Zhang Yimou began as a cinematographer and then moved on to become a director. He quickly established a reputation as a director with enormous visual flair and in particular, the use of colour. At the beginning of his directing career he made three ‘period melodramas’, Red Sorghum (1987), Ju Dou (1990) and Raise the Red Lantern (1991). Ju Dou was set in a dye-works and you can probably work out from the other two titles that ‘red’ figures strongly in these films. All the films are very carefully ‘composed’ and controlled, so that each image is almost like an art photograph. At the centre of each image is a very beautiful woman, played in each case by Gong Li. In his last few films, Zhang has used his new protégé, Zhang Ziyi, who in Hero plays Moon.

A cinematographer who rivals Zhang Yimou for visual style in East Asian cinema is Chris Doyle. Although Australian by birth, Doyle settled in Hong Kong to learn his trade and became associated with the films of Wong Kar-Wai. Through this connection, he, like Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung, gained a profile in the West. Doyle has been a very ‘experimental’ cinematographer pushing forward the boundaries of what can be achieved on film. The combination of Zhang and Doyle was bound to be special in some way. Complementing the two is Tan Dun, the composer of the score for Crouching Tiger, but generally not a prolific composer for cinema, being known in China and internationally for his symphonic work for the concert hall. The score uses traditional instruments and chants, but is also carefully mixed with sound effects, e.g. in the fight between Nameless and Sky, the sound of rain, the clatter of the blind musician’s stick, the clash of metal when sword meets spear etc.

Colour
Zhang Yimou’s previous work is relevant to an understanding of Hero, simply because it sets up an expectation that the colours in the films design will in some way have a political message. There are five sequences where a colour either predominates are is made ‘significant’ in a scene:

• The King of Qin’s palace is grey/black, enlivened only by splashes of red. This forms the beginning and the end of the story and the overall feel of this sequence extends into the first fight between Nameless and Sky;
• Red dominates the first version of the story by Nameless in which he describes the calligraphy school, the attack by the Qin army, the stabbing of Broken Sword and the subsequent fight between Flying Snow and Moon;
• Blue becomes the colour for the second version of the story;
• Green is the colour for the story that Nameless doesn’t necessarily know since it covers the first meeting of Broken Sword and Flying Snow and also the failed assassination attempt;
• White is the final colour, dominating the deaths of Flying Snow and Broken Sword and alternating with the black sequences back in the palace.

What meanings might we give to each of these uses of colour? Zhang Ziyi only appears in the scenes away from the palace so she doesn’t appear in the ‘black’ scenes. In an interview she gave this response to a question about the other four colours:

. . . Hero uses the four colours, Red, Green, Blue and White, to tie in four different segments of the story. On the other hand, each of them also contains a different story. Green is the representation of reminiscing, blue is the struggle among the three of them [Nameless, Broken Sword and Flying Moon]. The layout is unique; it’s unlike traditional wu xia films. It has quite a bit of artistic love story. In addition, Hero is not a typical wuxia movie – its main theme is in no way the same as the past wuxia films, which are mostly about the seeking of vengeance or vying for the ultimate martial arts manual that leads to endless fights and killings. It is about the love and compassion of the heroes of the world, their magnanimity, and has a kind of international spirit. The costumes in Hero are also very special: one character, one design, and there are four different colours. I feel that it’s something very modern, in as much as being avant-garde. (www.wu-jing.org/News/M01/2002-01-Zhang-Ziyi-Hero.php)

And here is Zhang Yimou in another interview with IndieWire magazine:

IW: How did you come up with the color changes in the film: red, white, blue and green?
ZY: Hero is not a traditional martial arts movie. It’s very structurally presented. I like Rashômon, and thought I could use different colors to represent different parts in the movie.
IW: Why those particular colors, red, white and blue?
ZY: There’s no particular meaning to each color. I just needed the colors to represent . . .
IW: Points of view.
ZY: Yes, yes. Each color represents a different period and different [way of telling the] story . . . (www.indiewire.com/people/people_040827hero.html)

Zhang suggests that there is no relationship between the particular colour and what happens in the sequence. Perhaps we should be suspicious of any director who makes this kind of statement (he could be ‘playing’ with the interviewer, or perhaps he was just bored). Even if Zhang did not consciously choose a colour, we as the audience will respond to colours differently. Red is most often associated with ‘passion’ and ‘danger’. This is true in every society – red is the colour of blood. It has a further meaning in China where it could be a reference to the victory of communism. Blue is often a cold colour associated with water, whereas green is often associated with calm. White is slightly problematic since in some cultures it relates to purity and in others to death. White is the colour of mourning clothes in many parts of Asia.

If you want some more ideas about what the possible meanings of the colours might be, a detailed discussion is available on this website: www.spcnet.tv/movie/hero/movie_hero.shtml This review raises many interesting points about the mise en scène of Hero. Author R. Hu suggests that it bears all the signs of Zhang Yimou’s approach to mise en scène: “the use of water, blood red colours, pigments, drapes/fabric, aerial shots and box-like architectures”.

The palace of Qin is a good example of the ‘enclosing architecture’ (Zhang has said that he chose black to represent the Qin Dynasty), as is the interior of the calligraphy school. Contrast this with the ‘open’ exteriors, in particular the lake and the desert. Hu’s review is very long and detailed and it is only possible to highlight some of the points here, but you might like to consider:

The King of Qin’s version of the story which is shown in blue and has a strong circular motif (think of the circle of library scrolls within which Nameless performs the trick with the cup). This is repeated but with a subtly altered mise en scène in the white sequences. The circle represents the king’s view of strength and unity and blue is suggested as the colour of imagination (this is how the king would like the story to have unfolded?).

A great deal seems to hang on the ‘excess’ of water and the contrasting drought in the desert scenes. How many times does water seem to be important? When Broken Sword first meets Flying Snow it is by a waterfall, when Nameless fights Sky it is teeming with rain. When are the other times that water is featured?

“Although much is said about the various colour themes in this film, yet many do not similarly acknowledge the distinct construction of the mise en scène belonging to the various colour schemes. From the box-like enclosure of the Black/Grey sequences, we move into the disjunctive and disunited labyrinth of the Red sequence that contrasts with the perfect unity of the Blue sequence, the fluidity of the Green sequence and the vast expansions of drought and negative space of the desert scenes in the White sequence. The final moments of the film brings the viewers back full circle into the coffin-like confinement of the Black/Grey sequence which begins the film. Yet interestingly, the final shot of the movie is that of the Great Wall of China which though is a wall meant to exclude and confine, yet nevertheless expands into the distance so far, its end is that of which cannot be perceivable by the naked eye.”

Narrative resolution
The reactions of audiences towards the film in the West (it is more difficult to assess what they might be in China) often contrast what they perceive as a technically brilliant film with a rather disturbing political message. The ‘hero’ is a man who sacrifices himself to allow the King of Qin to unify the warring states and establish the Chinese Empire. This does not go down well in the West and many commentators have criticised Zhang Yimou who in the past has been both praised and damned for the assumed political messages of his films (equally, but in the opposite way, in Beijing and Washington). Much of the debate hinges on the final text that appears on the screen. In the Miramax version in the West it says ‘Our Land’, but Chinese scholars have suggested that the Chinese script actually means ‘under heaven’ or ‘the world’. Is the act of sacrifice that Nameless makes for ‘Chinese’ people or for all people?

It might be helpful to consider the importance of all the emphasis on the calligraphy and the symbol of the sword in the film. This importance comes from Broken Sword. Who is the real ‘hero’ of the film? Is it Nameless who certainly seems to be the main protagonist? Is it the King of Qin who creates the Empire of China? Or is it Broken Sword, from whom the whole idea of sacrificing oneself for the ‘greater good’ comes? It might be worth exploring what you think is the purpose of the love story between Broken Sword and Flying Snow and how this relates to the resolution of the film’s narrative.

Genre
If we want to understand the complexity and depth of the filmic narrative, it is essential that we know something about the genre elements in the film and what these might mean in terms of the expectations of the audience.

Hero has been described as a ‘wu xia pian’. Mandarin and English are different kinds of language and therefore translations are open to interpretations. We will work with a translation that suggests ‘martial arts chivalry film’. Such films are not well-known in the West with only Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Zhang’s follow-up film to Hero, House of Flying Daggers (2004) getting any kind of wide release. Western audiences are aware, however, of more contemporary martial arts films from Hong Kong, such as those of Bruce Lee in the 1970s and Jackie Chan in more recent times. Also, many audiences are familiar with the choreography of martial arts as it has been imported into Hollywood action films – everything from The Matrix trilogy to the Charlie’s Angels films.

Wu xia is a distinct genre and the martial arts ‘action’ is located in a period setting and in the context of specific conflicts related to the honor codes of the warriors. This means that:

• the films are rooted in the specific cultural context of pre-modern China;

however

• the repertoire of these films will share certain elements with similar genres in other cultures, e.g. the chanbara or ‘swordfight’ film from Japan and the ‘swashbuckler'/musketeers/knights tales from Europe and America. There could also be links to westerns and gangster films – those in which a notion of honour, loyalty and responsibility are important.

The important cultural roots in China mean that the actions of ‘warriors’ in wu xia are linked to forms of philosophy and traditions of training which involve apprentices and masters (so that in Hero, Broken Sword is attempting to master calligraphy and marry it to his swordfighting skills and Moon is his apprentice/page etc.). Warriors recognise each other according to the ‘schools’ which have trained them and will often remark on the quality of skills demonstrated. Other elements include:

• ‘super powers’ – warriors are able to leap high and long and to hang in the air, their swordplay is more accurate and swifter than seems possible and they can defeat whole armies of lesser warriors;
• related to these super powers, wu xia may also involve other fantasy elements including witchcraft, ghosts, out of body experiences etc.
• the contests between warriors often take place in a specific location, away from the fictional world of mere mortals – often in a world of mountains, rivers, lakes and forests (jiang hu)
• jiang hu is often in a state of ‘chaos’, caused by wars or corrupt officials who have recruited warriors to do evil things – the good warriors therefore have a mission to restore the balance in jiang hu and the ‘real world’
• the mission may focus on some form of lost sacred object, often a scroll, a sword etc.
• narratives will often focus on a hero with a mission who has to overcome some form of disability (thus blind or one-armed swordsmen are not uncommon);
• families or ‘surrogate’ relationships are important, so that the son or daughter of a warrior may follow a parent into training;
• the tradition of female warriors is not new and can be traced back to 1920s cinema in China (see Reynaud 2003). The modern female warrior possibly dates from an important Taiwanese film directed by King Hu, A Touch of Zen (1971).

Looking through this list of elements it is clear that Hero does use several elements from the repertoire.

• male and female warriors (Nameless, Sky, Broken Sword and the King), Flying Snow and Moon, all except the King with ‘super’ powers;
• there is a sense of jiang hu in the location of significant duels at the lake and in the forest etc.;
• there is a sense of ‘chaos’ – arguably created by the King’s initial actions and then the hatred and revenge engendered in Nameless and Flying Snow in particular;
• the focus on calligraphy is strong and Broken Sword’s mission to bring swordsmanship and brushwork together is a driving force in the narrative.

However, as the filmmakers have indicated, Hero is not a ‘pure’ or traditional wu xia. There are other elements that are important. The romance between Broken Sword and Flying Snow is essential to an understanding of the narrative. The questioning of the love of one for the other, the ‘tests’ of love, the anger and jealousy at suspected betrayal etc. are all elements from the love story. (Even if the jealousy was not ‘true’, it still features as an element.) These elements don’t invalidate an approach to the film as wu xia, instead they make it a richer and more complex text because they are essential in any reading of the narrative.

References and Further Reading
David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson (1997, 5th edition) Film Art, London and New York: McGraw Hill
Gill Branston and Roy Stafford (2002, 3rd ed) The Media Student’s Book, London: Routledge
Nick Lacey (1998) Image and Representation, London: Macmillan
Nick Lacey (2000) Narrative and Genre, London: Macmillan
Sharon Lin Tay (2004) Review in Sight & Sound, October

The explication of basic concepts in genre offered in this pack is extended in the resources pack on Key Concepts: Genre published by BFI Education Projects and itp publications in 2001.

Websites
http://www.heroic-cinema.com/eric/xia.html
http://members.tripod.com/~journeyeast/wuxia_pian.html (David Bordwell)
http://www.kungfucinema.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wuxia
http://www.spcnet.tv/movie/hero/movie_hero.shtml
http://www.monkeypeaches.com/hero/interview01.html
http://www.wu-jing.org/News/M01/2002-01-Zhang-Ziyi-Hero.php
http://www.indiewire.com/people/people_040827hero.html
http://www.cinedrama.de/LFNY/lfny1.htm
http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/03/26/sexual_politics_chinese_martial_arts.html (Reynaud)

Essay or discussion questions on Hero

1. How is the art of calligraphy represented in the film? Which of the characters is most associated with calligraphy and what is it that they do?

2. What is the role of the character Moon in the film’s narrative? What does she do and how significant is her role?

3. How strong is the love between Flying Snow and Broken Sword – how is this love represented?

4. How would you describe the ‘quest’ or ‘mission’ that drives the narrative of Hero?

5. List the main sequences in Hero according to the dominant colours (of costume, decor etc.). How would you explain the difference between the red, blue and green sequences?

6. How many of the ‘genre elements’ of wu xia have you seen being used in Hollywood films? Select one or two examples and explain how the same elements might be shared by Chinese cinema and Hollywood – and how they might be used differently.

7. How would you describe the King of Qin? Is he a sympathetic character or is he a villain? What kinds of evidence do you take into account in your decision?

8. There are several fight scenes in the film. How does the director attempt to make each fight different so that we don’t become bored?

9. How is sound used in the film? Are there moments you remember when a particular sound or passage of music is essential to understanding what is happening? Or does sound always simply support the image?

10. Why do you think water plays such an important part in several of the fight scenes?

This wonderful film is not available in the UK (and wasn't released in UK cinemas as far as I'm aware – a fate it shares with the equally wonderful Actress/Centre Stage). This is a terrible state of affairs since this is one of the best performances by the iconic star of Chinese cinema, Maggie Cheung Man Yuk. Leon Lai is equally good and it's a tribute to the film that I still think this even after struggling to watch it on a Hong Kong VCD. (I don't know if anyone else has this problem, but Hong Kong films on VCD have both Cantonese and Mandarin soundtracks and I have found it quite difficult to disable one of the two tracks on my MacBook – I finally worked it out when I set the audio on the computer all the way to right or left and then played the film using Quicktime.)

The story could only be set in Hong Kong before 1997. It begins in 1986 with the arrival of Li Xiao Jun (Leon Lai) from the Mainland in the hope of making enough money to pay for his marriage to his girlfriend, still back in Tianjin (in North Eastern China). Searching for jobs he meets Maggie Cheung (as Li Qiao) who is working behind the counter at McDonalds. She decides to help a fellow Mainlander (she comes from Guangzhou – on the mainland, but close to Hong Kong), but gives the impression that she has been in Hong Kong for a long time. She has several jobs and many schemes to make money (her aim is to be rich and buy her mother a house) and she is soon humouring Xiao Jun, treating him as a country bumpkin. Despite their differences they eventually fall in love. They make an interesting couple and we get to see what happens to them over a 10 year period leading up to the eve of the handover. This isn't an art film but a a thoughtful entertainment film complete with a narrative twist in its resolution.

It is distinctively a Hong Kong film with a theme of migration and memory – the most important theme in Hong Kong cinema up to 1997 as far as I can see. The soundtrack carries the songs of Taiwanese pop star Teresa Teng throughout the film and they also figure directly in the narrative. Western audiences will recognise some of the nostalgia (and the yearning for migration) from the films of Wong Kar-wai and this film would make a fascinating double bill with In the Mood for Love.

The genre of the film is the romance melodrama with its mixture of nostalgia, hardship and lucky coincidences and its narrative conventions of weddings, break-ups and reconciliations. It works so well that you fear that Hollywood will want to remake it. I don't think that it could be done. Although the US too is a nation built on migration, I haven't seen an American film with this feel – except perhaps in the glimpses of Little Italy in the early 20th century in Godfather II. Most of all, I just can't see a Hollywood star who could do what Maggie Cheung does. I realise that this may again be a function of watching a narrative from a different culture and not following the spoken language – I get used to just watching the faces and Maggie Cheung does so much with her beautiful face.

I was surprised to see a user comment on IMDB that begins with an assertion that this film isn't 'political' (and this from a Chinese or Hong Kong user, I think). It was clear to me that the central characters have quite different attitudes to making money and 'getting on'. Li Qiao buys in completely to the capitalist dream and she makes her money in various ways, including dabbling on the stock exchange and recruiting students for an English language class. Her whole approach is based on an embrace of the service industry ethos of late capitalism and a recurring image views her subjectively from the perspective of an ATM machine which charts the rise (and fall) of her savings. Xiao Jun, by contrast, establishes himself through family connections and eventually takes jobs associated with the restaurant business in a traditional family-based approach. I found the chapter on the film by Rey Chow in her book Sentimental Fabulations, Contemporary Chinese Films (2007) very useful and I hope to review the whole book at a later date. At this point, I'd like to pick up just a few of the points she makes.

One of the striking points about Comrades is that it offers a series of romances/relationships, each of which in some way comments on the central relationship. Two of these involve Chinese women and Western men and both of them involve the impact of globalisation. The first involves Xiao Jun's aunt, who years ago as a young woman supposedly spent a day in a hotel with the Hollywood actor William Holden when he was filming Love Is a Many Splendoured Thing (US 1955) in Hong Kong. (Chow points out that the aunt is played by Irene Tsu who had an uncredited role in Holden's other Hong Kong movie, The World of Suzie Wong (UK 1960)). This kind of intertextuality also extends to the other romance – between an English teacher and a Thai prostitute called Cabbage. The teacher is played by Christopher Doyle, then Hong Kong resident and cinematographer to Wong Kar-wai. These two romances, one past (and possibly a fantasy?) and one uncertain, are complemted by Li Qiao's own 'arrangement' with an older gangster figure (played by Eric Tsang). The scenes between these two are sometimes very affecting and add to the emotional impact of Li Qiao's attachment to Xiao Jun. All the men involved in the relationships seem caring and understanding (Bill Holden is, of course, 'absent') and the narrative seems to me to be sympathetic to the woman's position.

Chow is as interested in the ideological discourse associated with Li Qiao's embrace of Hong Kong capitalism as she is in the the discourse of migration and identity and she offers several important observations. One, I liked about the visual symbols of movement and commercial energy concerns the enfless flow of people through rapid transit systems, airport security, etc. against the images of Xiao Jun on his bicycle seemingly cycling without effort against the flow. All this and Teresea Teng on the soundtrack – I'm sure there is more going on than I can fathom. I'd say more about the ending of the film, but I don't want to spoil it if you get the chance to see the film. Unavailable at the moment, distribution seems to be in the hands of Warner Home Video – perhaps they have plans to re-release it?

Since you can't get it anywhere with English subs, here is a YouTube link (you can probably watch the whole film on YouTube if you look carefully):

Here's an eye-catching example from today's (Aug 3) Sunday Times: "Today's twentysomethings, inspired by their peers in America . . . , get to invent themselves from scratch, and the result is a sense of self even more advanced than that of their fortysomething sisters. While the icon of the generation above is the beautiful, restrained actress Maggie Cheung, theirs is the singer and actress Faye Wong, a contrary, pixie-like character who has become one of the most successful Chinese entertainers of all time" (Jessica Brinton, "Going Olympic: On the eve of the Beijing Olympics, we profile young Chinese women who are out to rule the world").

It was some years before I finally watched the film myself, and when I did, I appreciated all those things that others have spoken enough of - its simmering sensuality, its restraint and its canonical status as a paean to impossible love are but examples. But I will confess: there was nothing I adored nearly as much as Maggie Cheung's cheongsams.

When I think of the word "exquisite" I think of Kristin Scott Thomas in The English Patient, her fine hair and features glowing in the desert in that other magnificent story of impossible love. When I think of the word "elegant" I think of Maggie Cheung in that blue cheongsam with the roses, telling the husband of the woman having an affair with her own not to get an apartment where they can meet and, clandestinely, write. From scene to scene, carrying with delicate grace a different cheongsam in each one, she held me transfixed. But the blue one - that's the one I want.

Although they look nothing alike, in my mind, the cheongsam is like the saree, a garment about which I am passionate. Both are explosively sexy in their sheer subtlety. They burn slow. They smoulder. The cheongsam obscures even the clavicle, but observe Cheung's voluptuousness of hip as she climbs up and down stairs and try to tell me honestly that it doesn't mesmerize you more than a cornucopia of cleavage.

Maggie Cheung in In The Mood For Love is like a Shanghainese print advertisement from the 1930's come to life. I've always had a love for those. Like Hindu calendar art, they are astoundingly gorgeous kitsch that few people seem to care about. Beautiful women with little roses in their hair and willow-like grace selling beer, soap and other assorted irrelevances; I wish the artistic value of these ads survived alongside their motives in the modern world.

I don't think I will ever have a poster of that film on the walls of any house I live in again. But I will have those old prints. And when I do I will think not just of how pretty they are, but of every association they connote: bazaars I wandered in looking longingly at frames, knowing that there were no homes or walls in them that were mine enough then to place them on, people I knew, films I loved. I will dream of China.

We travel to run away. We travel, like Tony Leung in the same film, to whisper our secrets into the souls of buildings and trees and hope they never escape into the lives we return to. And sometimes we cannot travel at all, because the places we yearn for exist only as either memory or mirage, and so we watch.

Perhaps one day I will go to China to find myself a blue cheongsam with roses on it, because you can be anyone you want to be where nobody knows you. I'll sit in some café deliberately evocative of a bygone Shanghai and think of the incandescence of my friend the poet-countertenor Cyril Wong singing Chinese opera in a small theatre in Jakarta last year. I'll be as embarrassingly strange and guilty of wanting to possess the exotic as Nat King Cole's heavily-accented rendition of Quizas Quizas Quizas, yes, but at least I won't deny the heartbreak beneath wanting any of it in the first place.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express. “The Venus Flytrap” is my weekly column in the Zeitgeist supplement. Previous columns can be found here.

One of the characters in Fallen Angels, an impish mute who breaks into businesses after hours and works in them, acquires a video camera and shoots everything around him: his father sleeping, his father cooking dinner; sticking the camera right into people's faces. These scenes become a reflection, a mirror of the movie itself, of its hectic pace, its unplanned, unordered plot line, the touching moments of tenderness and love shining through the bright glare of neon lights and night traffic. As the viewer, you don't have any distance, any bird's eye perspective; there is no narrative with a beginning, a middle, and an end; rather, just like in real life, you're right in the thick of it and have no clue what will happen next. Not the typical Hollywood formula by a long shot.

We watched Chung King Express next, which was actually filmed earlier (Chung Hing sam lam, 1994). Equally funny, moving, fast-paced, visually amazing, and brilliant as Fallen Angels, it has loose connections and subtle parallels with the later movie.

And then -- finally -- I got to see In the Mood for Love, easily one of the most beautiful films I've ever watched. There were so many perfect shots, with color composition, play of light and shadows, geometric shapes, intriguing textures of walls, doors, window frames etc. just right that we had to pause frequently to admire the beauty of a single picture. Maggie Cheung who played the female protagonist took your breath away, her delicate gracefulness enhanced by her lavish wardrobe. The subtle but intense feelings developing between her and Tony Leung (who plays her love interest) advance just as much because of Doyle's sumptuous cinematography as because of the characters' dialogs and the plot line.

While we saw a few more of Kar Wai Wong's films, the ones mentioned here are the top choices -- no, Happy Together from 1997 (Chun gwong cha sit) belongs to this category too. But Fallen Angels remains the all-time favorite.

To understand the evolution of beauty standards worldwide, how can we not start off with the West where the "thin" trend began in the first place!

"The arrival of cable television and Western fashions and films has given today's teenagers the idea that thin is beautiful..." BBC

"But standards of beauty have changed dramatically... as South Korea's government decontrolled TV and newspapers, allowing in a flood of foreign and foreign-influenced programming, information and advertising." Dr. Sing Lee, psychiatrist, Chinese University of Hong Kong 

So, here goes:

 A poster pin up girl in the 1920s 

Hollywood celebrities in the 1930s and 1940s, the beau in the middle being the famous actress, Thelma Todd, who was at her peak in the 1930s and 1940s

How can we not mention Marilyn Monroe, the sex bomb of the 1950s and 1960s?

 And... Elizabeth Taylor, a famous Hollywood actress in the 1960s!

THIS is where it all began. Presenting... Twiggy Lawrence, the skinny androgenous model with a sweet angelic face who surprisingly took the world by a storm in the 1970s when curves were sexy!

Goldie Hawn, in the 1980s, when the ideal body weight was beginning to dip, thanks to Twiggy Lawson!

The figure you would have wanted to have in the 1990s!

Beauty standards today as depicted in the hit show, America's Next Top Model!

Not surprisingly, beauty standards in Asia have undergone a similar evolution pattern, with the thin trend kicking off in the 1970s and 1980s when Western media became increasingly popular in Asia!

Evolution of Beauty in Japan:

 A Japanese pin up beauty in the 1930s! 

 Japanese beauty standards from the 1950s to 1970s

Momoe Yamaguchi, a Japanese hottie in the 1980s! Clearly beauty standards are shifting away from the curvier and fuller figures appreciated in the 1930s!

SPEED, the girl band that was overwhelmingly popular in Japan in the 1990s!

Last but not least, Ms Japan 2007!

Evolution of Beauty in Hong Kong:

 Lin Dai, a phenomenal actress in Hong Kong who was the epitome of beauty in the 1950s and 1960s!

Beauty in the 1970s which is clearly beginning to move towards the "thin"

Anita Mui (left) who enjoyed widespread popularity in the 1980s and represented beauty standards in the 1980s

 Thinner ideals in the 1990s

Beauty ideals today!

I don't know about the rest of my dear readers, but for me at least, just looking at the evolution of beauty in both the West and in Asia over the years reminds me that at the end of the day, chasing beauty standards is not unlike chasing trends, meaningless after a while. And, perhaps, even if we're not considered beautiful in this time, it does not reflect that we are any less valuable. It just means that we're not conforming to the beauty standards of our culture in our time. If we do not follow the fashion trends of today, does it mean that we are any less forward-thinking? Trends will be trends - there will always be followers and rebels. Whichever we choose to be, it's a choice, not a reflection of our worth and value. I sincerely hope that this post will be as comforting to my dear readers as it was to me.

Till the next time!

- Made-to-measure in Japan, with my name engraved: those scissors cost ten thousand Hong Kong dollars (more and less one thousand euros). They are beautiful, aren’t they? I’m a left hand, my free hand to cut. 

Says Georges with a child’s enthusiasm for his gorgeous scissors, like a photographer presenting his lucky camera. I decide to nickname him George Scissors Hand.  

Midtown, crowed business area, the appointment is in front of Mark and Spencer, with George Scissors Hand aka George Wong Peng Loy, a famous Hong Kong hair stylist and one of the owners of the select hair dressing salon, Headquaters. He works for fashion and movies, especially with Wong Kar Wai. He’s also the personal hair dresser of the filmmaker and the actor Tony Leung and many other “beautiful” people from Hong Kong and China.

- I prefer working with men, it’s easier. Nice, clean and fast. I have to hear what you want first and then suggest you something, I explain to my customers. I find inspiration in lots of magazines, on Internet and before I went to shows in Paris and London.

Now sat in a private room of his hair dressing salon for the exclusive clients:

- The beginning was very difficult, hard: you have to be the best. First you have to do good job. I did hair styling for magazines, people saw it and I started working a lot with the art director William Chang or Cheung (which is the art director of Wong Kar Wai’s movies). I liked his work. And then I’ve worked with Wong Kar Wai on lots of commercials and “In the mood for love”, “2046”.

Teenager, George’s already wanted to work in Fashion. But his father, owner of a travel agency and very fluent French speaker (born in Mauritius), said no. So in 1980, George went in Paris, learning French “à l’Alliance Française” during one year:

- I liked many beautiful pictures and I wanted to be a photographer, but the school was too expensive, I made a training period in a hair dressing salon school at Hotel Nikko for one year. I didn’t want to stay in France for my future, so for paying my flight back to Hog Kong, I worked in a Japanese restaurant for four months. Every afternoon, I cut hairs of the personnel, like a training.

- Back in Hong Kong I had to learn English hairdresser words! In 1985, I started as a junior at Headquaters and in 1997, I became one of the owners of the salon. I’d prefer working in Paris. Hong Kong I don’t like too much: too many people, but here it’s better than France to earn money!

Great success story in a city and culture where you have to be successful.

- I have no idea for future plans. I’m happy and simple. I just want to work and get back home: I’m a family man. I love my wife Nicolette and my five years old daughter Anya. And I love my job.

Thanks Georges!

- Du sur mesure fabriqué au Japon, avec mon nom gravé dessus : ces ciseaux coûtent dix mille dollars de Hong Kong (plus ou moins mille euros). Ils sont superbes, non ! Je suis gaucher, ma main libre pour couper.

Explique Georges avec l’enthousiasme d’un enfant pour ses magnifiques ciseaux, comme un photographe avec son appareil fétiche. Je décide de le surnommer George aux mains d’argent !

Midtown, le grouillant quartier des affaires : rendez-vous devant Mark and Spencer, avec George aux mains d’argent, alias George Wong Peng Loy, célèbre coiffeur et propriétaire associés de  Headquaters, salon select de coiffure. Il travaille dans la mode et pour le cinéma, plus spécialement avec Wong Kar Wai. C’est aussi le coiffeur personnel du réalisateur, de l’acteur Tony Leung et de beaucoup d’autres beautiful people de Hong Kong et de Chine continentale.

- Je préfère coiffer les hommes, c’est plus facile. Sympa, propre et rapide. Je dois d’abord écouter ce que vous voulez et ensuite vous suggérer quelque chose, voici ce que j’explique à mes clients. Je puise mon inspiration dans divers magazines et sur Internet . Avant j’allais aux shows à Paris et Londres.

Assis maintenant dans une pièce privée réservée aux clients choisis de son salon:

- Les débuts ont été très durs, difficiles : vous devez être le meilleur. D’abord vous devez faire du bon travail. J’étais coiffeur pour des photos de magazines, des gens l’ont vu et j’ai commencé à beaucoup travailler avec William Chang ou Cheung (qui est aussi le directeur artistique des films de Wong Kar Wai). J’aimais son travail. Ensuite j’ai travaillé pour Wong Kar Wai sur de nombreuses publicités et « In the mood for love », « 2046 ».

Adolescent, George veut travailler dans la mode, mais son père, propriétaire d’une agence de voyages qui parlait couramment français (né à Maurice) s’y oppose. Alors en 1980, George vient à Paris apprendre la langue « à l’Alliance Française » pendant un an :

- J’aimais plein de superbes photos et je voulais devenir photographe, mais l’école coûtait trop chère. Alors j’ai fait un stage dans une école d’apprentissage de coiffure à l’Hôtel Nikko, durant un an. Je ne voulais pas rester en France pour mon avenir: pour payer mon billet retour, j’ai travaillé pendant quatre mois dans un restaurant japonais. Où chaque après-midi, je coupais les cheveux au personnel, comme entraînement.

- De retour à Hong Kong, j’ai dû apprendre le jargon professionnel des coiffeurs en anglais! En 1985, j’ai commencé comme coiffeur junior à Headquaters et en 1997, j'en suis devenu un des propriétaires. J’aurai préféré travailler à Paris. Je n’aime pas beaucoup Hong Kong: il y a trop de monde, mais pour gagner de l’argent c’est mieux qu’en France!

Beau succès dans une ville et culture où il faut absolument réussir.

- Je n’ai aucune idée de ce que sera demain. Je suis simple et heureux. Je veux juste travailler et rentrer le soir chez moi : je suis un family man. J’aime ma femme Nicolette et ma fille de cinq ans Anya. Et j’aime mon travail.

poi giocano a mahjong

ma scopare mai?

9.2

First spotted at Love Made Visible.

The spread features models Agyness Deyn, Lily Donaldson, Doutzen Kroes, Catherine McNeil, Gemma Ward, Sasha Pivovarova, Coco Rocha, Caroline Trentini, Mo Wandan, Du Juan and Maggie Cheung. It was by photographer Patrick Demarchelier in Shanghai, China.

Why is that I always feel funny when someone appropriates anything Asian?

Links:

• The Pirelli Calendar's Official Site.
• CNN Money: Pinups for the Auto Elite.
• Wikipedia: The Pirelli Calendar.

«Il vero amore è sempre tragico, infelice. Un amore realizzato è noioso nella vita come nei film». Così parlò Wong Kar Wai presentando 2046, seguito ideale di In the mood for love: stesso attore protagonista (Tony Leung), stessa città (Hong Kong) e stesso motivo ricorrente del ricongiungimento alla Cina nel 2046, stessi particolari che tornano (il segreto confidato all’albero). Film raffinato e sontuoso in puro stile Wong Kar Wai, 2046 in prima battuta parla dell’impossibilità di riconciliarsi con il passato, parla quindi di rimpianto, di destino, dell’incapacità di ricominciare davvero: questi sono i muri invisibili che imprigionano il protagonista in una vita fatta di passioni intense e transitorie, incapaci di restituire l’innocenza, perduta assieme al grande amore (non a caso Maggie Cheung, l’attrice di In the mood for love). L’impressione è però che il film ci parli d’altro, di un’unità spezzata in maniera definitiva: ogni donna è qualcosa della Donna, ogni donna è proiezione parziale del Desiderio, ma nessuna donna è La Donna. Così, si potrebbe dire, nessuna parola è La Parola, nessuna lingua è La Lingua, quella divina, perduta, la cui distanza inavvicinabile ci consegna al disorientamento e all’insufficienza.

È un film di speculazione profonda 2046, i cui temi nascosti sono l’impossibilità del ritorno all’Unità, l’essere gettati nel mondo senza potersi mai ricongiungere con l’Origine, l’umana condanna alla traduzione del Verbo, che possiamo solo avvicinare e alla cui verità saremo estranei fino alla fine. Il virtuosismo di Wong Kar Wai va di pari passo con la riflessione ermeneutica che il film mette nascostamente in campo, perciò il suo cinema è perfettamente coerente: la sua ricerca stilistica è il tentativo di dare al cinema, alla pellicola, il dono della sensibilità, come se la finzione potesse sul serio ricostruire la percezione e l’emotività, superando la differenza tra corpo ed espressione, la differenza tra anima e carne, superando il dualismo umano. Tentativo tragico e disperato come le domande che pone 2046, un film molto bello, molto impegnativo, da vedere assolutamente. Annotazione affatto oziosa: molte musiche del film sono di Peer Raben, compositore di quasi tutti i film di Fassbinder e in 2046 troviamo addirittura il rifacimento di Each man kills the things he loves, aria che Jeanne Moreau sussurrava in Querelle de Brest (1982). Che Wong ci stia sottilmente suggerendo un orizzonte perduto del suo cinema?

2046, di Wong Kar Wai, Cina, 2004, 129 minuti

Cast: Tony Leung, Maggie Cheung, Gong Li, Chang Chen, Kimura Takuya, Carina Lau, Faye Wong, Zhang Ziyi

Uscita: 29 ottobre 2004

Certamente è difficile giudicare il film di Yimou perché ricco di citazioni e rimandi alla tradizione cinematografica cinese di genere. Questa premessa pare davvero essenziale, visto che il film può lasciare decisamente perplessi. Non che lo spunto narrativo sia esile: con un racconto che strizza l'occhio a Rashomon del grande Kurosawa, Zhang Yimou ci parla dell'uomo che ha unificato la sua nazione, la Cina, dei guerrieri dei regni rivali che tentarono di ucciderlo, dello spirito ideale necessario per compiere grandi imprese, del sacrificio di individui perpetuato in nome dei più alti valori, i valori della coesione della collettività. Eppure il film inizia a svelare il proprio senso e la propria struttura all'inizio del secondo tempo (dipenderà dalla versione mutilata ad opera Miramax?), i tre quarti del film sono occupati da combattimenti noiosissimi e virtuosistici (sottolineati da un commento musicale degno di un laccato ristorante cinese), ogni scena riprende le immagini dell'oriente più trite e ritrite (pioggia di foglie gialle che cadono; laghi dalle acque immote con pagode al centro; acconciature, vesti, oggetti di scena da negozio etno-chic). La stampa è in visibilio, grida al capolavoro, sottolinea la raffinata visione politica del film (aiuto…). Che dire?! Buona operazione di marketing.

Hero, di Zhang Yimou, Cina/Hong Kong, 2002, 120 minuti

Cast: Jet Li, Tony Leung, Maggie Cheung, Donnie Yeng

Uscita: 8 ottobre 2004