Once Upon a Time in China - Softcover

Yang, Jeff

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0743448170 ISBN 13: 9780743448178

Publisher: Atria, 2003

Synopsis

A comprehensive overview of the unique cinematic art of mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan explores the rich variety, quality, and creativity of Chinese film, exploring the intertwined traditions of the three regions and their influence on movies, the industry's most important performers and filmmakers, cultural and film criticism, and more. Original.

About this title

About the Author

Jeff Yang was the founder and original editor of aMagazine, and is the author of Eastern Standard Time: A Guide to Asian Influence on American Culture. He lives in New York City with his wife, Heather, and their son, Hudson.

Reviews

Yang, the founder of the Asian-American periodical aMagazine, fell in love with the "guilty pleasure" of Chinese movies as a child, when his uncle took him to see "epic tales of blood, thunder, and magic." His account, enlivened by his innocent enthusiasm and his eye for pertinent detail, begins with a 1905 one-reeler, Dangjun Mountain. With a keen historical perspective, Yang introduces such early film icons as Ruan Lingyu, a "mistress of melodrama" who starred in the eerily prophetic Suicide Contract and then killed herself. He describes the evolution from women's pictures to martial arts movies, from the late 1910s to today. Action star Chang Cheh said in the 1960s that he wanted to put the spotlight on "real men who'd tear off their own legs and gleefully use them to beat their enemies to death," and this macho stance is reflected in Enter the Dragon and others in the Bruce Lee series. Yang crisply chronicles Lee's career from his minor Hollywood success, loss of the lead in TV's Kung Fu and eventual Hong Kong stardom. The contrast between the "vengeful, stone-faced" Lee, who died of cerebral edema at 32, and the mischievous, clownish Jackie Chan provides enjoyable reading. Yang also extensively covers John Woo's "bullet-riddled mayhem," the popularity of Hong Kong sex films featuring Chinese mythology, and a battle against piracy that made Chan take to the streets in protest. Capsule reviews offer an all-inclusive portrait of releases over half a century, and Yang clinches his case by reminding readers "they've had only the merest taste of the banquet that is yet to come. Save room for dessert." Photos.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Savvy film buffs know that Chinese directors are responsible for a disproportionate number of the most highly praised and entertaining recent movies. Others wishing to explore Chinese cinema's staggering variety will do well to consult this valuable guide. After a single chapter on the first half-century of Chinese film, Yang offers a decade-by-decade look at the cinematic output of the mainland, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. Hong Kong's crowd-pleasers, particularly the kung fu classics of the 1970s and the "poetic violence" gangster films of the '80s, predominate, but other trends get their due, including the Fifth Generation mainland directors of the '80s, such as Zhang Yimou and Chen Kaige, and the New Taiwanese Cinema, also of the '80s, exemplified by Edward Yang and Hou Hsiao-Hsien. The book's second half contains succinct, informative capsule reviews of nearly 300 films. If Yang's treatment seems somewhat cursory, that may be the result of trying to chronicle three separate national cinemas. Hardcore cineastes may want more scholarly coverage, but for most filmgoers, this is just the ticket. Gordon Flagg
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter One: The Dawn of Chinese Film: 1896-1949

After seeing these shadow plays, I thereupon sighed with the feeling that every change in the world is just like a mirage. There is no difference between life and shadow play...suddenly hidden from the view, suddenly reappearing. Life is really like dreams and bubbles, and all lives can be seen this way.

-- A line from the earliest known Chinese movie review

In the spring of 1905, an ambitious photographer named Ren Qingtai hit upon a way to boost business at his thriving portrait studio: He decided to turn a large, unused side room into a theater where his friends could put on opera performances. The idea was less jaw-droppingly implausible than it might seem; Ren counted some of Shanghai's most popular actors and musicians among his acquaintances, and they readily agreed to put on impromptu concerts in his makeshift venue -- the Fengtai Photography Shop performance hall and gallery.

What turned heads was Ren's other idea for the space. On nights when his friends weren't available, he wanted to use it to showcase the fancy new technology known as dian ying xi, "electric shadow plays" -- or, as they were known in the West, "movies."

By that time, motion pictures had been shown in China for nearly a decade. In 1895, the LumiŠre brothers launched the industry known as cinema by displaying their primitive vignettes in a Paris café; a year later, on August 11, 1896, a Spanish entrepreneur known as Galen Bocca brought the new medium to Shanghai, screening a series of one-reel wonders to crowds who gathered at an "entertainment center" called Xu Garden. These entertainment centers offered a somewhat lowbrow alternative to Chinese opera, the most popular diversion of the time. Often located on the rooftop levels of department stores, they featured storytellers, jugglers, acrobats, and other performers who might otherwise be plying their trade on the streets.

But the miracle of the movies drew audiences of all types, from the elite to the working classes, to gawk at recordings of the exotic and the mundane -- foreigners dancing, wrestling, and cavorting on beaches; faraway cities and sights, with their unusual architecture and the quirky customs of their residents. Bocca's movie festival packed the house. The following year, an American impresario came to Shanghai and began showing films to similar crowds in teahouses throughout the city. Despite the instant appeal of the medium, until Ren, no one had ever created a venue where movies were shown strictly for the sake of showing movies. There were no tickets sold for performances at teahouses and department stores; the exhibitions were there to lure paying customers into the building. Ren had hit upon the concept of the movie theater.

In a matter of months, the motion picture side of the Fengtai Photography Shop gallery quietly but surely squeezed out the live performance side. People who rarely went to operas were turning out for movies in droves, and it dawned upon Ren that his offbeat idea just might make him more money than he'd ever seen in his life. Unfortunately, the demand for motion pictures was beginning to outstrip the available supply of foreign imports, and Ren was reluctant to disappoint crowds with reruns. Like many a practical innovator, he resolved to take matters into his own hands. Through his stage acquaintances, he recruited Tan Xinpei, then known as the "King of Beijing Opera," to perform one of his most celebrated roles, the warrior-king in Dangjun Mountain, at the gallery. Then he borrowed a movie camera and invested in a reel of celluloid filmstock. The result, a crude piece of work shot in one take with a fixed camera (Ren was, after all, only familiar with still photography), nevertheless captured a thrilling performance by one of the era's biggest stars.

Upon its release in Ren's gallery, Dangjun Mountain (1905) proved to be a giant hit. People loved the opera, and people loved the movies. The "opera movie" provided the best of both worlds...while making it possible for anyone who could afford a ticket to see a performance often limited to the elite. Ren and his assistants at Fengtai would crank out other opera films for the next few years, and were rapidly beginning to believe they'd acquired a license to print money. Owners of the established opera theaters were, to say the least, discomfited by the idea that an upstart photo shop owner could, if he wanted, feature the great Tan Xinpei 365 days a year using this foreign technology (and without paying a dime of Tan's exorbitant fee). Ren deflected criticism with a shrug and a reference to the march of progress, no doubt while mentally counting his receipts.

In 1909, the Fengtai Photography Shop mysteriously burned to the ground. Perhaps taking the hint, Ren decided to get out of the film business altogether.

But the world had changed, and the movies were in China to stay. Beginning in 1907, permanent, film-only theaters were being built in Beijing and Shanghai, and had already begun popping up in Taiwan and Hong Kong. Then, in 1910, an American filmmaker named Benjamin Brodsky set up shop in Shanghai under the banner of the Asia Film Company -- China's first film studio.

Copyright © 2003 by Jeff Yang

Edition details

• Publisher: Atria
• Publication date: 2003
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0743448170
• ISBN 13: 9780743448178
• Binding: Paperback
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 320