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SOUTH CHINA MORNING POST 27/7/92
380*26JUL92.CHINA: ZHANG YIMOU PIONEERS MOVIE INDUSTRY REBIRTH.
[SCMP] (146)
CHINA is far from being the world's most fertile environment for film-making.
The eagle eye of the authorities combines with out-of-date equipment and
meagre backing to stunt the growth of many a potential director.
Yet from this seemingly barren ground has sprung one of the world's most
extraordinary talents. Zhang Yimou, not least through his Oscar nomination for
his last film Raise the Red Lantern, has seen his work break out of his
country's creative strait-jacket and win him international acclaim.
His overseas fame, not to mention that of his ever-present leading lady Gong
Li, may have been behind China's sudden decision to lift the ban on the
politically sensitive Lantern - a move which has delighted the director as
much as any international success.
Now his latest epic movie, dealing with the politically charged subject of the
judiciary and village life among the poor, has been cleared by the authorities
too. It has all raised hopes that perhaps the Deng effect which has sent the
economy spiralling upwards may be about to produce an arts renaissance as well.
Only Zhang's ground-breaking earlier effort, the sexually-charged Judou, has
yet to be freed from its long-standing ban.
"I'm very happy. I wish all my films could be seen by Chinese people across
the world, including Taiwan," said Zhang, who spoke to the Sunday Morning Post
from Beijing after post-production work on his latest film, The Story of Qiu
Ju.
An exclusive preview of Zhang's latest film, which opens in Hongkong in the
autumn, reveals the director working in a new mould. Most celebrated for his
depictions of pre-communism feudalistic tableaux, Zhang makes a foray into
contemporary realism and his customary solemnity is infused with humour in Qiu
Ju.
The story revolves around Gong Li as a pregnant villager stubbornly battling
to sue the party cadre village chief for injuring her husband in a fight.
Zhang's previous works dealt with oppression - particularly of women - and
were therefore deemed to portray CHINA in a bad light. But his latest film
deals with the more specific subject of a faulty judiciary, the old boys
network of party cadres and public security officers and the inability of
rural communities to adapt to the rule of law.
On the political overtones, Zhang was guarded. "This is not a film about
China's jurisdiction. I'm not interested in that. The focus of the film is on
the simplicity of the peasants' relationships - relationships that cherish
neighbourhood community and mutual help," he said.
"It is not an over-simplified attempt to look at the judicial system and
morality, and then make judgement on the values. The focus is on how the
simple-minded common people deal with each other in a village community.
"The judiciary aspect is just an angle to explain the story."
Zhang recently held a private screening among the old friends of the Beijing
Film Academy, where the response was enthusiastic.
"They loved it very much and some of my close friends even said it was my best
film so far because it looked authentic and realistic. And they thought the
actors' performances were impressive."
The film was even considered to have overcome the traditional weaknesses of
contemporary Chinese films: pretentiousness and a lack of realism.
The Story of Qiu Ju is based on a novel called Lawsuits of Thousands of
Households, written by Chen Yuanben. Filming, between January and March, took
place in wilds of Shaanxi province.
A considerable part of the film uses documentary-style footage of the
villagers' lives. Apart from the lead actors, Zhang used villagers and shot
the scenes on Super 16 mm cameras with synchronised recording. The atmospheric
pinks and reds of rural life contrast greatly with the greys of the corrupt
city.
"We managed to achieve effects that you would not obtain by orchestrated sets.
The results looked natural and realistic."
A total of 30,000 metres of film was shot, about five times the usual length
needed.
While the state stipulates part-time actors or extras be paid five yuan a
working day, Zhang offered them 10 to 15 yuan.
"I didn't have to teach them how to play their roles; in return they showed me
what they really said," he said.
Zhang was also moved by the hospitality of the villagers. They tended to
refuse payment and, instead, invited the crew home for dinners.
"They loved to take part in filming, which was a once in a lifetime experience
for them."
Western modernisation is also apparent for the first time. In the town some
people have Walkmans and, in a seemingly ironic nod at the insidious influence
of American culture, posters of Arnold Schwarzenegger sometimes come into
frame.
According to Zhang, the contrasts of rural and city life are not aimed at
purely spotlighting the decadence that comes with urbanisation - even though
the pregnant Qiu Ju is cheated by a dishonest city pedicab driver and a letter
writer.
"My film is not that complicated, in terms of being critical of judiciary
system and city life. It just portrays a kind of geographical shock when a
villager visits the urban area.
"Cheating is very common everywhere, in cities or in villages."
A persistent mark of Zhang's films is a strong woman figure defying the
constraints of tradition and fatalism. So are all his films pro-woman?
"What I'm trying to say is that Chinese women have been under the control of
the feudalistic traditions and constraints. There is an acute lack of distinct
individual personality among the peasant women," he said.
"I chose this story and adapted it into a film because it contains a woman
with a distinct personality. This is not just what is needed in the characters
of Chinese women but also in Chinese men as well.
"I think Chinese people should have their own personalities. In fact, most of
us tend to conceal our real selves in mass-oriented society by conforming to
the norm.
"Conformity gives us comfort and security because we are afraid of being
rejected and reproached.
"I like people who have their own characters, no matter whether they end up
winners or losers in life."
Zhang hardly seems to make a film without using Gong Li - who is considered a
trademark of his work.
"It all depends on the film's subject. So far I think she has been suitable to
play the lead actress of my films. If she is not appropriate I'll not use her.
"Ours is very different from the Hongkong system. Hongkong film-makers'
priority is to sort out the cast first and then have stories or screenplays
tailor-made for them.
"But here we prefer to look for interesting stories or subjects first and then
work out the cast according to the need of the stories."
But Zhang conceded overseas investors might insist on having Gong Li in the
cast as a box office draw, which tended to push him into using her before
finding necessarily the right vehicle.
In the film, Gong Li plays a dowdy, pregnant, distinctly unglamorous role. How
did she feel about it after being vaunted as the mainland's sex symbol?
Zhang said: "She didn't complain. In fact, the way she played her role brought
her a lot of praise and credit at the private screenings.
"My friends and the critics said in the past they had wondered whether Gong Li
was no more than a pretty actress. Now they all realise that she is a
competent actress. It also proved that Gong Li's popularity did not stem from
her appearance alone. It's the first time that Gong Li's acting has been
recognised by people."
Are they angry with the Hongkong press, which has speculated on Gong Li's long-
standing relationship with Zhang?
"Let them say whatever they want to say. I can't keep their mouths shut
anyway," said the director, refusing to be drawn into a straight denial.
Despite the wide acclaim of Zhang's films, the director is not too optimistic
about Chinese films going international.
"The basic problem is we don't have many good films that can enter the
international market. Having two to three films in film festivals overseas is
not enough. We ought to produce at least 20 films every year with
international credit before we can talk about going international.
"Obviously we cannot produce conspicuous results in the short run, but I'm
optimistic about the future of Chinese films in the long run."
Does he anticipate that Mr Deng Xiaoping's open-door policy will bring more
freedom at the cultural level?
"This is what I hope. I'd rather not say anything about this subject (more
freedom in films)."
Zhang admitted the authorities required a film-maker to submit a screenplay
and a detailed director's filming plan, with individual shots, for vetting
before a film was allowed to proceed.
"If they are not happy with the finished film, they will raise their
objections and require you to change certain parts."
In Hongkong, a popular film director is not necessarily a millionaire, but can
at least rely on his budgets and income increasing with his rising fame.
But in CHINA, a well-known film director like Zhang merely receives -
officially, at least - 220 yuan a month.
"Individuals are there to serve the state, that's the way things are in
CHINA," he said.
After Qiu Ju, he is looking for a new subject for his next film project.
"I want to keep changing and growing so that I can come up with new
challenges."
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