Y&L: I think Hong Kong cinema is more horrendous because of self-censorship.
WKW: That’s why no one in Hong Kong has made a truly political film because they have already censored themselves.
Y&L: In mainland China, some people made political films, so the state strengthened censorship. Hong Kong filmmakers surrender themselves first.
WKW: Another reason why the focus on mainland films is that political films will attract attention, but I have begun to feel this is deliberate. If filmmakers truly want to send a message, we ought to respect them.
Y&L: More and more Chinese films are exhibited overseas. We feel they are not Chinese films but only films that serve foreigners. Your films have begun to be exhibited overseas. Ashes of Time was submitted to Venice Film Festival in September. Are your films made to please certain audiences?
WKW: The critics said I don’t care about the Hong Kong market. Would I please certain audiences? In reality, I also don’t like those films. I feel those films are like the old star village,5 which caters to certain audiences.
Y&L: Actually, they sell some very stereotypical images.
WKW: I feel Tarkovsky should be the most respected. He was exiled overseas, and he is making films that are very realistic. His films are very deep, like during the credits of Nostalgia he dedicated his work to his own son and homeland. You feel very touched because you feel he is an authentic person. He is not concerned about how the audience reacts.
Therefore some say I make films for festivals. Actually, I don’t because my films are not suitable for film festivals. They do not suit their taste. For example, some asked me if Ashes of Time could be about ’97. If so, then the judges would be very interested. But I feel, “So what?” How much do westerners6 understand Hong Kong? They only see it as a topic, a common language.
Y&L: To conclude, I feel if you wanted to attract westerners, you would put in your films elements that interest foreigners.
WKW: Meaning you have to play according to their rules in their games, but I don’t feel that is necessary.
Y&L: The Blue Kite, To Live, and A City of Sadness all look at history and politics from the view of the family.7
WKW: I have not seen The Blue Kite and To Live, but I have seen A City of Sadness. It is a very good film. It really wants to say what the older generation feels about the White Terror in Taiwan. I feel The Puppetmaster8 is not as good. I used to dislike Hou Hsiao-hsien’s films. I feel his earlier films are not original. Only since Daughter of the Nile have I felt his films are good. Daughter of the Nile is able to show the nightlife and way of life in Taipei. The City of Sadness is a mature film; it has a grand style. I have not seen To Live. After Ju Dou, the films of Zhang Yimou are not that good.
Y&L: Have you seen Beijing Bastards?9
WKW: I have. It is not good. Beijing Bastards was made to say deliberately, “I am very rebellious.” But I can’t see the feeling anywhere.
Y&L: When I saw Beijing Bastards, I felt they could not find their own expression in an established ideology, so they used different “rebellious” methods to release their frustration.
WKW: I think the filmmakers know what they want, but they can’t express it properly—they can’t be like Zhang Yimou. Zhang Yimou is very clear about what he wants.
Y&L: You always say you don’t want to do things in a conventional way. Are you a rebel?
WKW: I will not rebel just because I want to. I only want my films to have something that is unexpected. When we see films, we are attracted by a certain moment because that is different from what you are accustomed to. When you see a film as a routine, the film may suddenly give you something unexpected. You will then be greatly impacted. It is like a very loud film suddenly becomes silent. You will remember that silence. I want my films to have that impact, using different methods to express that feeling. This completely depends on planning.
However, it is very difficult to make experimental films in Hong Kong. The audience in Hong Kong needs continuous sensory stimulation. The need may be influenced by Hollywood where audiences are willing to have their emotions manipulated. The Hong Kong audience is lazy—understandably so because everyone is too tired, too busy. When I watched Speed (1994), I thought it was good. But it is good only if films are like that once in a while. If every film is Speed, then it is not that good. If you want to do better, you have to take risk. I feel in the end I cannot not do better.
Y&L: Do you have a goal when making films?
WKW: My goal is not to make films that I will regret later. I always remember that I have made four films, and I don’t regret making them. My biggest nightmare is to make a film that I don’t want in my filmography.
Y&L: Are you thinking of what kinds of films you will make later?
WKW: There are many, but these are not concrete plans yet because I discovered there has been a change—I like shooting during the day and shooting something bright.
Y&L: That is, you don’t want to make more dark films like As Tears Go By?
WKW: Yes, because I feel I have made enough of them. I feel I should turn to another place to make films.
Y&L: Is it because you are more optimistic?
WKW: Sure. Perhaps it is because of my age. I used to think some issues had to be expressed positively. At a certain age, I thought, they don’t have to be that positive. For instance, loneliness is in fact not that sorrowful; you can be happy while being lonely.
Y&L: The stubbornness of the protagonists in Days of Being Wild and As Tears Go By cost them their lives. But in Chungking Express, there exists a possibility of communication.
WKW: Because you become more receptive when you reach a certain stage and realize that you have been closing others off, which is no way to live. When you pay attention to other people around you, you realize many things can be positive; therefore, I feel I gradually became more open.
Y&L: People wait to see if your new films are like Days of Being Wild.
WKW: If people keep thinking about Days of Being Wild without watching the new films carefully, they will always see Days of Being Wild. Days of Being Wild has not influenced me much. It is only a transition, a stage. It is how I saw things when I was small.
Y&L: Are you nostalgic?
WKW: I used to be. Now I am not. I have stopped being nostalgic since Chungking Express. Ashes of Time and the first two films were a stage. Chungking Express is a new stage. Ashes of Time is, in fact, very wide. I always wanted to learn how to make a film in which nothing happens in the beginning, and then everything happens at the end where there is a climax—surprising the audience because they did not expect that. Ashes of Time does this at the end when Leslie Cheung goes through the entire process before leaving his home.
Y&L: I see you spend a lot of time editing your films. Do you feel the important step is directing on site or editing?
WKW: Every step is important. It depends on what kind of director you are. If you are Hitchcock, it does not matter because he was clear about what he wanted when he shot. That’s why no one knew how to edit his films—only he could do it. Now when I shoot, I mostly have a concept, but I am not completely sure about the sequence of shots. I know what is needed, and then I choose the best way to illustrate the concept during editing.
Y&L: Can you talk about your working relationship with Patrick Tam?
WKW: I met Patrick Tam when we worked on Final Victory seven or eight years ago. We have been working together since then. We have a good working relationship; I learn a lot from him, in particular filming techniques and set management. I remember the first day when we shot As Tears Go By, I was disorganized so I asked him how to shoot. That was the day for the scene in which Andy Lau was in the outdoor food stall. Tam reminded me: “Why don’t you think of this as a ‘blood road,’ and you have to run into it to kill?”10 He is not someone who is good at creating theatrical scenes, but he can easily tell you how it feels, if you can catch what he means. He has an opinion on everything. For example, he s
aid: “When you shoot the scene of Maggie Cheung in the phone booth, it is actually a deep hole; later how can she find a way to climb out from it?” But I was not thinking in the same way. After he told me what he thinks, I would feel there is another possibility.
Y&L: There are only fives words to describe your films: “Good Reviews Bad Box Offices.” “Good Reviews Bad Box Offices” may mean your films are very difficult to understand—the audience could not stand them. That leaves the films to the cultural critics to discuss. The general audience is not willing to buy tickets. Do you think this is true?
WKW: I think it is true because people think this person’s films are not obvious; they are very elusive. When the audience sees Days of Being Wild, they expect to see As Tears Go By. When they see Ashes of Time, they expect to see a wuxia film. That’s why I have to keep letting audiences know and accept “that’s how he makes films.” Whether they buy the tickets or not are up to the audience.
In fact, both Days of Being Wild and Chungking Express are experiments for me to try out different ways to tell stories. Ashes of Time is more mature. When I reach a certain level of expression, things will be okay.
I don’t agree with people who arbitrarily label my films as art films. Are there anything called art films? From the beginning, there has only been the art of cinema, not art films. If one could find one’s position, that’s already good enough.
Y&L: What is your distribution overseas?
WKW: They are better since Days of Being Wild. Chungking Express and Ashes of Time were sold to the French and Japanese markets. In fact, I have always emphasized that I need to understand the audience, then I will do something I like within the expectation of that audience. I should not force myself. For example, I had a heavy burden when I made Ashes of Time because I knew the sales of distribution rights would be good. If the rights are sold at a high price, the distributors will expect something for mass audience. So I have to use certain elements to face a broader audience. But I was much more relaxed when making Chungking Express because I only had to work within the budget and to please those audience members who have already accepted me. If I could plan, I would be more relaxed when making films. When you test a market until people know what kinds of films Wong Kar-wai makes, then there will be no more walking out, no more chair cutting, no more cursing.11 The good point comes when people know this is what you make, the audience accepts it; then I will be relaxed; and no one will lose money.
Y&L: Do you face a lot of pressure when making films?
WKW: I think the pressure is not fair to me. Why are there so many complaints? Everyone is making films! Those complaints made the work progress difficult. Sometimes there are a lot of ungrounded rumors. But the media’s attitude is that they will spread the rumors first, then they will clarify them with you. I feel this has affected my work.
Y&L: What is your purpose of making films?
WKW: No purpose.
Y&L: Because you love films?
WKW: No. First, making films is my job. Other than that, the greatest fun of films is you can live many lives; you can create a world in which you can put many characters. To say it inarticulately, it is like playing God—like in Greek myths, you put characters in them and see how the characters run and walk. In fact, you can jump into the characters to experience many lives.
Y&L: Which directors do you like?
WKW: Too many, can’t count. In fact, I like different directors at different stages. In my early days, I liked Westerns; then Japanese films, which are cool. Then I liked European films, which are cool too. But good films are always in my heart. I remember joking with Patrick Tam: If there was a fire at home, which films would you take away with you? Your list will change, but at that time you would know which films are the most important. However, if there was a fire, you’d rather bring your passport, not VHSs and VCDs, because in the end, you can abandon films.
NOTES
1. The Legend of Eagle-shooting Heroes (aka The Legend of the Condor Heroes) is a novel written by Louis Cha (aka Jin Yong). Louis Cha is well-known for writing many wuxia novels which have been widely read in the Chinese-speaking world.
2. Wuxia, which literally means martial hero, is a literary genre about martial arts. Unlike kung fu, the story of wuxia usually takes place in the ancient past. In wuxia films, heroes usually fight with weapons, not bare fists like in kung fu. Special effects (such as wire work) are used in wuxia films.
3. Half a Lifetime Romance is an Eileen Chang’s novel first published in Shanghai, 1950–1951.
4. 1997 was the year Hong Kong returned to the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and became the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the PRC.
5. Star village is a tourist attraction in which artisans demonstrated long-lost Chinese arts and crafts, such as making figurines with flour dough.
6. Wong Kar-wai used the term gweilo. Gweilo used to be a derogatory term for British. But it has been so commonly used that it is a term to refer to all white people by Hong Kong Chinese.
7. The Blue Kite (dir: Tian Zhuangzhuang, 1993); To Live (dir: Zhang Yimou, 1994); A City of Sadness (dir: Hou Hsiao-hsien, 1989).
8. The Puppetmaster (dir: Hou Hsiao-hsien, 1993).
9. Beijing Bastards (dir: Zhang Yuan, 1993).
10. Speed (dir: Jan de Bont, 1994).
11. The audience was frustrated and annoyed while watching Wong’s Days of Being Wild so they vandalized the theaters during the screening.
Working like a Jam Session
Michel Ciment / 1994
From Positif (France). no. 410 pp. 39–45. Interview conducted in English and Chinese in Venice on September 11, 1994. The interviewer thanks Norman Wong for his translation from the Chinese. Reprinted by permission of the publisher. Translated from French into English by M. A. Salvodon ©2015.
Michel Ciment: You were born in Shanghai in 1958, and at five years old you left for Hong Kong.
Wong Kar-wai: Yes, but it wasn’t easy! We left in 1963, just before the Cultural Revolution. My father was a hotel manager, and my mother was a homemaker. I was the youngest of three children and my mother brought me with her to Hong Kong. The idea was for her to return to Shanghai and bring back my brother and sister. But a month later, the Cultural Revolution exploded, the border was even more hermetically sealed, and she was not able to go get them. Everyone was afraid to return to China and not be able to leave once there.
MC: What studies did you pursue?
WKW: After high school, I went to a polytechnic school1 in graphic arts because it was the only place that offered classes in photography, a field that interested me a great deal. On the other hand, I was not really interested in drawing. When I was young I remember my father always buying books, especially Chinese literature, and I spent the most of my childhood reading. Later, the only way to communicate with my brother and sister was through writing letters. In their letters, they talked about French, English, or Russian classic works from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the old editions of which were still available in China. In order to share ideas about books with my siblings, I got the same works in Hong Kong. I therefore read a great deal as an adolescent.
MC: Did you practice photography a great deal?
WKW: Yes, but unprofessionally, though I had some talent in this field. During my second year in my polytechnic, I dropped photography to take a production course at the TVB (Television Broadcasts Limited), a TV station in Hong Kong. TVB wanted to train directors, and this was the first time they set up this type of curriculum. I was nineteen years old, and, since then, I have attended my graphic arts course. Afterwards, for a year and a half, I was an assistant director in television before becoming a freelancer and writing screenplays.
MC: What did these years of study give you?
WKW: I must say that I wasn’t a model student. During my time at the polytechnic, I always had a camera with me which I was constantly taking out to take pictures. I went to the library a lot as well be
cause it had an abundance of art and photography books. It was a great opportunity for me to gain knowledge that was different from what high school had taught me. My mother was crazy about movies. My father worked all day. When I came home from school around 1 p.m. in the afternoon, I was free, and my mother would take me to see movies. She especially liked westerns, like films with John Wayne, Errol Flynn, Clark Gable, but also with Alain Delon! Later, at the graphic arts school, I discovered another cinema, the films by Bertolucci, Godard, Bresson, and the Japanese masters like Ozu or Kurosawa.
MC: When you started to write screenplays, did you already think that you were going to make films?
WKW: I believe I always had the feeling that I would become a filmmaker someday. Still, both seemed to me, then and now, to be totally different. When I write a screenplay, I tend not to specify anything having to do with the visual realm; I don’t think people would understand [it]. To me, words can’t express a vision. So dialogue matters a great deal to me, as well as the descriptions of certain situations and actions. I often receive screenplays from young writers that are full of visual cues. I always tell them that these are useless because the tempo and images are the director’s responsibility.
MC: How many screenplays have you written?
WKW: About fifty, though my name appears in the credits of only a dozen films. The others came from brainstorming sessions. In Hong Kong at that time, six or seven young scriptwriters would be gathered in a room for days, talking and pitching ideas. And the oldest one would write the script … I worked like this as a scriptwriter for seven years. Among us was a very experienced scriptwriter, Wong Ping-yiu (working under his English name Barry Wong), who was in a way my mentor. We worked in the same company, and I think that he was responsible for 70 percent of the important films made in Hong Kong during that period. Even though Barry was very quick at writing scripts, he didn’t have much time and would pass some off to me. His name appeared in the credits, but we split the money. Our company was called Always Good but it subcontracted as well to major studios like Golden Harvest or Cinema City.2
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