Hong Kong Cinema

This book examines Hong Kong cinema from its inception in 1913 to the
end of the colonial era, explaining the key areas of production, market,
film products and critical traditions. Hong Kong Cinema considers the dif-
ferent political formations of Hong Kong’s culture as seen through the
cinema, and deals with the historical, political, economic and cultural rela-
tions between Hong Kong cinema and other Chinese film industries on the
mainland, as well as in Taiwan and Southeast Asia.
The book discusses the concept of ‘national cinema’ in the context of
Hong Kong’s status as a quasi-nation with strong links to both the ‘moth-
erland’ (China) and the ‘coloniser’ (Britain), arguing that Hong Kong
cinema is a national cinema only in an incomplete and ambiguous sense.

Yingchi Chu is a Lecturer in Chinese Studies and Media Studies at

Murdoch University, Western Australia. She worked in the Hong Kong
media industry for a number of years before completing her doctoral
thesis on Hong Kong Cinema. Her research interests include Chinese
media, Chinese diasporic popular culture and cinema studies.
Hong Kong Cinema
Coloniser, motherland and self

Yingchi Chu
First published 2003
by RoutledgeCurzon
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by RoutledgeCurzon
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RoutledgeCurzon is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group
© 2003 Yingchi Chu
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Contents

Preface vii
Acknowledgements ix
Introduction: National cinema and Hong Kong cinema xi

1 Hong Kong cinema as part of Chinese national cinema

1913–56 1
Minimum intervention and Chinese nationalism 2
National politics and the mainland market 5
China as the subject 14
Conceptualising Hong Kong films as national art 19

2 Hong Kong cinema as Chinese diasporic cinema 1956–79 22

The dilemma of Hong Kong as a diasporic community 24
Unifying a diasporic film industry and market 28
Constructing a Chinese cultural identity beyond China 32
The diversity of local film criticism 38
The demise of Chinese diasporic cinema 39

3 Hong Kong film production, market and criticism 1979–97 42

Hong Kong as a quasi-nation 43
‘National’ characteristics in film industry and market 51
‘National’ characteristics in film criticism 58

4 Hong Kong films: the cultural specificity of quasi-national film 63

Film narratives 63
Film genres 67
Codes and conventions 72
Gesturality and morphology 73
The star as sign 74
vi Contents
5 Hong Kong films: cinematic constructions of Hong Kong
history and territory 77
History, territory and nation 78
History and territory in Hong Kong films 81

6 Hong Kong films: cinematic constructions of Hong Kong’s

quasi-national identity 91
National identity and Hong Kong identity 92
Quasi-national identity in a cinematic context 96
Hong Kong: A ‘nation’ without sovereignty 98
The demise of a quasi-national identity? 114

7 Hong Kong cinema after 1997 119

Continuation of the quasi-nation 120
Film industry and film markets 122
Films 127
Film criticism 132

Conclusion: Hong Kong cinema and quasi-national cinema 134

Notes 139
Chinese glossary 143
Filmography 151
Bibliography 159
Index 181
Preface

Defining the ‘national’ status of a country’s cinema has been central to

historical film texts and debates since the 1980s. Hong Kong Cinema con-
templates the ‘national’ features of Hong Kong cinema under the British
colonial government, using Andrew Higson’s four approaches to national
cinema: the production-centred industry, the exhibition-led market, the
creation of film texts and the emergence of critical traditions.
I have drawn materials from a variety of sources, including historical
data on Hong Kong, interviews, newspapers and magazines as well as the
films themselves. Using these sources I offer a detailed description and
analysis of Hong Kong cinema since the inception of the local film industry
in 1913 to the return of the colony to China in 1997. The book examines
these materials with reference to recent studies of national cinemas, and
social and cultural theories of the construction of national identity.
Although the Hong Kong film industry was situated in a British colony
before 1997, I contend that Hong Kong cinema exhibited many character-
istics of a national cinema. At the same time I show that Hong Kong
cinema was a ‘national’ cinema only in a very incomplete and ambiguous
way. I argue that the cinematic construction of Hong Kong’s geopolitical
cultural identity articulates a dual cultural identity for Hong Kong as both
Hong Kong and China, which also reflects the status of Hong Kong as a
‘quasi-nation’, existing in a triangular relationship between the British
coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong self.
My starting point is to develop the argument made in national cinema
studies that national identity should not be taken for granted in the cine-
matic context. Hong Kong Cinema illustrates through different historical
periods, how a country’s cinema may change, modify and subvert its
geopolitically defined identity. Lastly, I agree that, at any given moment, a
country’s cinema may not necessarily reflect and articulate ‘national’
characteristics at all levels.
Acknowledgements

Hong Kong cinema could not have been written without assistance from
many people and various institutions. I should like to thank the Australian
government and Murdoch University for awarding me a Postgraduate
Scholarship and the Hong Kong Urban Council for its assistance in my
‘field work’. I am grateful to Krishna Sen for her help at the early stages of
my research; to the Directors of the Hong Kong Film Archive, Cynthia
Liu and Angela Tong; and to the Manager of Sub-Cultural Limited,
Jimmy Chi-Ming Peng. My thanks also go to the people who provided
special insights into the complexities of Hong Kong cinema: Law Kar, Li
Cheuk-to, Ng Ho, Yu Mo-wan, Ng See-yuan, Ann Hui, Allen Fong,
Michael Hui, Raymond Wong, Jonny To, Clara Law, Gordon Chan, Fruit
Chan, Peter Tsi, John Chueng, Joe Chueng, Manfred Wong, Law Waii-
Ming and Chan Pak-shen. Special thanks go to Geoffrey Davids who read
drafts of the original research; to Helen Gibson and Sit-ling Tull for assist-
ing me in my library research; to Cheryl Miller for her word processing
skills; and Anne Surma, who added a sense of fluency to my writing.
Hong Kong cinema is a re-worked and extended version of my doctoral
thesis, supervised by Tim Wright, Tom O”Regan and Stephanie Donald. I
am indebted to them for the time they spent with me discussing and debat-
ing ideas. Tim has remained the main inspiration for this research,
continuing to take supervisory responsibility even after his move to
Sheffield University. Tom O’Regan’s knowledge of national cinema
strongly influenced my research, while Stephanie Donald’s perspective on
Chinese cinema proved helpful to the overall argument. I also wish to
thank Horst Ruthrof for helping me to turn my doctoral dissertation into a
book, and for his advice on how to bring my research up to date in an
additional final chapter. A generous thank you to my editors at Curzon
and Routledge, Peter Sowden and Steve Turrington for their professional
guidance, dedication and encouragement.
I owe a special debt to my parents in Hong Kong, Zhu Wei and Huang
Ziqing, who have lovingly assisted me by sending me newspaper clips, videos
and journal articles, as well as searching for references over the past few
years. Lastly, I deeply appreciate the presence of Baca Chan, who has quietly
acted as my ‘psychiatrist’ and given me all sorts of assistance when needed.
Introduction
National cinema and Hong Kong
cinema

This book is a study of Hong Kong cinema in the light of the concept of
national cinema. As Hong Kong has not had all the attributes of a nation,
it is not surprising that its cinema does not fit comfortably into the theo-
retical category of national cinema. And yet, Hong Kong cinema exhibits
certain characteristics of a national cinema, which functions as part of a
web of economic and cultural institutions within a recognisable and
bounded society. Hong Kong cinema has played such a role: it provides
local employment, attracts overseas investment, contributes taxes and
export earnings and, at the same time, participates with the community in
the construction of a Hong Kong cultural identity, both in political and
cinematic terms. Hong Kong’s political status as a British colony, however,
might be seen to have excluded Hong Kong cinema from being recognised
as a national cinema. Furthermore, the colony’s ethnic Chinese identity
encourages a perception of Hong Kong cinema as either part of Zhonghua
minzu (Chinese national and/or ethnic Chinese) cinema or as haiwai
Huaren (overseas Chinese) cinema.
Before 1 July 1997 Hong Kong’s political and economic system was
determined by the triangular relationship between the British coloniser,
the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong. Hong Kong was a British
colony, but both China and the local Chinese community played signific-
ant roles in the shaping of the colony. China’s political and economic
interests in Hong Kong not only allowed the colony to flourish, but also
provided conditions for the British coloniser to undertake various political
reforms, which were fundamental to the colony’s political stability and
economic prosperity. Co-operation by the local Chinese community was
equally important in making Hong Kong one of the most successful trade
and financial centres in the world.
Given the particularity of Hong Kong in such a relationship, should
Hong Kong cinema be studied as a national cinema? Or should national
cinema studies exclude Hong Kong cinema on the grounds that Hong
Kong was not a sovereign nation, even though it was a recognisable and
bounded society? This introduction aims to address these questions by,
first, discussing the concepts of nation and national cinema with reference
xii Introduction
to Hong Kong and, second, by examining three common terms to describe
Hong Kong cinema in the Chinese literature: Zhonghua minzu cinema,
haiwai Huaren cinema, and bentu (indigenous) cinema.

The British colony as a quasi-nation

The term ‘nation’ can be understood in three ways: as a political unit, as an
‘imagined community’ (Anderson 1983) or as a combination of the two.
As a political unit, a nation is a nation-state backed by the state apparatus
of law, administration and a military force. Colonial Hong Kong had no
claim to sovereign influence over the way political power should be exer-
cised within its borders. As both Britain and China allowed the colony to
establish a considerable degree of autonomy, Hong Kong developed a way
of life which distinguished it from China and other Chinese communities.
The territory was not a nation, but it was recognised both internationally
and locally as a political entity and as a society in its own right. In this
sense, then, Hong Kong was a quasi-nation.
The question as to whether Hong Kong should be understood as a
nation can also be addressed by the idea that a nation is an imagined
community. An imagined community is created by and within its commun-
ity culture (Balibar 1991: 93–4; Guibernau 1996: 75–6). In the process of
imagining Hong Kong as a nation, the British colony displayed two unique
characteristics that embody the idea of a quasi-nation. First, imagining
Hong Kong as a nation involved the process of defining the triangular rela-
tionship between the coloniser, the motherland and Hong Kong itself, an
interdependency that suggests a quasi-national status rather than that of a
nation. As Hong Kong’s ‘common culture’ was developed in a society
which was ethnically Chinese but governed by the British, imagining Hong
Kong was inevitably tied up with the structure of this triangular relation-
ship.
Second, Hong Kong was also imagining itself as part of the Chinese
national community. The territory celebrated when China’s athletes won
Olympic Gold medals. The colony donated generously when China suf-
fered natural diasters. Hong Kong citizens believed themselves to be
Chinese citizens when they protested against the Japanese claim to the
sovereignty of the Diaoyutai islands in 1971 and 1996, and when they
stood behind the Beijing students in 1989. At these moments of crisis, the
imagined community of Hong Kong exhibited the characteristic of a dual
cultural identity – that of both Hong Kong and China. Insofar as a nation
depends on the notion of exclusion, Hong Kong showed that the imagined
community of Hong Kong was ambivalently based on both the exclusion
and the inclusion of China. From this perspective too, then, Hong Kong
can be perceived as a quasi-nation.
 Introduction xiii
National cinema and Hong Kong cinema
National cinema is a way of understanding cinemas in a world of nations.
Cinema is characteristically international. This is not only because, as
Darrell William Davis (1996: 19–20) argues, film technology was invented
during similar periods in France, Britain and America, but also because
every national cinema is always already ‘touched’ by other national
cinemas or Hollywood before being conventionally recognised as a
‘national’ cinema. Furthermore, the majority of national cinemas ‘operate
against the rules and standards set by Hollywood’ (Crofts 1993: 50) as a
consequence of Hollywood’s domination in the world market. As Tom
O’Regan (1996: 50) argues, a national cinema ‘provide(s) a means to
identify, assist, legitimate, polemicize, project, and otherwise create a
space nationally and internationally for non-Hollywood film-making’.
As a country’s cinema operates within the restrictions of its national
laws and in conjunction with national politics and economies, it earns, in
industrial and political terms, the brand name of national cinema.
Community members engage with an exploration of nationhood through
their country’s cinema. It is through such cinema that nationalism is
expressed by a variety of national interest groups, including policy makers,
financiers, film-makers, social censors, cultural critics and the public who
believe that a country’s cinema presents or should present its community
images, history and way of life. At the same time, a national cinema
secures a place both in the domestic and international film markets by
‘promising audience a singular and coherent experience’ (Higson 1997: 5).
Under the British colonial government, Hong Kong reflected these
characteristics of a ‘national’ cinema. It operated under local laws and reg-
ulations in its political, economic and social context. It provided a cine-
matic space for the community to explore Hong Kong nationhood and its
cultural identities. And it offered distinct cultural products, which supple-
mented Hollywood films in the international market.
Higson (1989: 36–7) argues that a national cinema can be explored in
‘economic terms’ as a production-centred industry, via ‘an exhibition-led’
or ‘consumption-based approach’, from ‘a text-based approach’ or by way
of ‘a criticism-led approach’. I shall identify the elements and features of
national cinema inherent in these four approaches to show the extent to
which Hong Kong cinema reflected the ‘national’ characteristics of a
country’s cinema.

A production-centred industry
To define a country’s cinema in economic terms is to account for
the degree to which cinema generates significance at both national and
international levels. Internationally, a country’s film industry secures
its foothold in the world market virtually by being recognised as a
xiv Introduction
geopolitically defined cinema. This also applies to the Hong Kong film
industry even after 1997 in that it operates as a territorially defined busi-
ness in the world market, and contributes a collection of specific ‘national’
products to film culture.
Within its domestic market, a country’s film industry is recognised as a
national economic institution. It shares a particular kind of relationship
with its national community in four main areas. First, a country’s film
industry operates under national laws and regulations. The Hong Kong
film industry indeed functions under Hong Kong’s laws and regulations,
which though not themselves strictly ‘national’, were based on legislation
produced by a distinct geopolitical unit with the consent of the British and
Chinese governments. Second, in principle, a national film industry is
owned by members of its national community and/or by its national
government. The industry may depend on a certain amount of foreign
investment but within the restrictions of national laws. The Hong Kong
community has owned and invested in the local film industry and produc-
tion from the late 1970s, in spite of the fact that the industry has always
attracted financial investment from Taiwan and countries in South-East
Asia. Third, a national film industry contributes to the national economy
through taxes, export earnings and other means. The Hong Kong film
industry has certainly played an active role in the economy in this aspect.
It has attracted tourists and investment, gained export earnings and pro-
vided employment to the local community. Finally, a national film industry
produces films that mainly target its national community. Along with local
television, Hong Kong films have always been the major source of enter-
tainment for the local community.
A country’s film industry contributes to the construction of a nation
through the industry’s engagement with national governmental agencies,
other national businesses and interest groups. In general, a national
government has two major concerns for its country’s film industry – its
national image and its national economy (Fehrenbach 1995: 1–91;
Chakravarty 1993: 55–79; Malkmus and Armes 1991: 36–59; Magder 1993:
3–28; Burton 1997: 123–42; Johnson 1997: 365–93; Souza 1996: 128–31).
Unlike some national governments, which provide various means of finan-
cial assistance to local film production (Petrie 1991: 65–107; Finney 1996:
114–38; Hill 1996: 101–13; Pendakur 1996: 148–71; Soila et al. 1998: 26–7,
68, 129, 194–5, 234), the Hong Kong government did not provide continu-
ous funding to local production or any means of protecting its domestic
market for the industry. However, the colonial government intervened in
the film industry by way of censorship, and by making ad hoc funds avail-
able to promote Hong Kong films through the Hong Kong International
Film Festival and other trade and cultural activities.
The relationship between a country’s film industry and other national
business institutions also contributes to the construction of the concept of
national cinema. In Britain, Italy, Japan and Canada, television networks
 Introduction xv
play significant roles in the production of films. In the case of Hong Kong,
television networks have not been as significant as financial investors.
They are, however, resources to be drawn on for film talent and screen
productions of cultural identity. Other local business sectors, for instance,
real-estate, retail businesses, transportation, tourism and service industries
have been actively involved as financial investors in film business.
Participation of national interest and lobby groups in a country’s film
industry underscores the notion that a country’s cinema derives strength
from its national community (Hodsdon 1995: 158; Deromdy and Jacka
1987: 28–207; Kinder 1993: 441–4). From the early 1990s, interest and
lobby groups in Hong Kong launched a campaign to demand that the
government play a more positive role in the industry through the estab-
lishment of a film commission or development council to provide financial
assistance for ‘diversified development’ (Hong Kong Film Forum 94 1994:
24). Their particular concerns for the Hong Kong film industry resembled
those evident in the relationship between a national community and its
national cinema.

An exhibition-led or consumption-based film market

National cinema can be assessed from the perspective of ‘the range of
films in circulation within a nation-state’ (Higson 1989: 44; Sorlin 1996:
8–9). Here, the articulation of ‘national’ is shown in three main areas in
the domestic market: an audience’s different cultural experiences between
viewing a domestic film and a foreign film, a government’s different laws
and regulations for domestic and foreign film exhibition (Pendakur 1996:
148–71; Diawara 1996b: 102–11) and different social groups’ responses to
domestic and foreign films (Higson 1997: 5).
There have been few discriminatory policies in Hong Kong against
foreign films. Nor has there been any evidence that the industry or the
local community demanded the colonial government to intervene in local
film distribution and exhibition. However, there has been a demand for
the government to assist the industry in exploring the overseas market
(Wei 1986). Between the early 1980s to the mid-1990s, the Hong Kong film
industry was largely controlled by the local film business, playing an
important role in distributing and exhibiting foreign films, including Holly-
wood films. Hong Kong spectators thus have enjoyed a consistent and
distinct cultural experience in relation to their domestic film products.

A text-based approach
A country’s cinema produces a collection of films from which a certain
national-cultural specificity is generated (Ukadike 1994: 201–22; Diegues
1997: 272–94; Diawara 1996a: 209–19; Petrie 1991: 134–67; Abel 1984:
69–248; Jordan and Morgan-Tamosunas 1998: 61–55; Nolletti and Desser
xvi Introduction
1992: 131–226). This national-cultural specificity is developed under the
influence of its indigenous cultural tradition and political and social
context, on the one hand, and in response to Hollywood and other
national films, on the other.
Studying cinematic, national-cultural specificity can be focused on
narrative, genre, code and convention, gesturality and morphology and
star image (Hayward 1993: 8–9). Narratives construct and present the
significance of a nation in two modes. One is the screen adaptation of
indigenous texts, which ‘offers up a double nation-narration’. The other is
the cinematic construction of a nation in either an explicit or an implicit
manner, confronting ‘the spectator with an explicit or implicit textual con-
struction of the nation’. In Hong Kong, screen adaptations are typically
based on both China and Hong Kong’s cultural texts, suggesting a dual
cultural identity for Hong Kong. Since the late 1970s many Hong Kong
films have presented Hong Kong as a geopolitically defined community
clearly separated from China and Britain.
National-cultural specificities are also displayed through film genres.
Film genres can claim a certain universality: comedy, melodrama, thrillers
or musicals. On the other hand, film genres may also be ‘specified, ampli-
fied, and even subverted, within a particular culture’ in historical, political
and economic contexts (Hayward 1993: 10). Having developed under the
generic influence of earlier Chinese films, the artistic tradition of China
and Hollywood films, Hong Kong film has been shaped mainly in relation
to Hong Kong’s own political, economic and social contexts.
Film-making is involved with codes and conventions in the process of
image construction and production. National cinemas vary so much
because the production process is influenced by cultural traditions, and
conditioned by political, economic and social contexts. Codes and conven-
tions therefore show in two areas: ‘labour and production practices’ and
‘the iconography of the image’ (Hayward 1993: 11). In Hong Kong, the tri-
angular relationship between the coloniser, motherland and the territory
have overdetermined both production and iconography.
Since film acting remains distinguishable from behaviour in everyday
life, and since methods of film acting are shaped by a history of artistic tra-
dition and social context, ‘gestures, words, intonations, attitudes, postures’
in film acting are therefore ‘deeply rooted in a nation’s culture’, and ‘assist
in the enunciation of the “national” of a cinema’. Languages, accents and
idiom used in film performance in Hong Kong suggested both difference
from and similarity to those of films produced in China. The dominant
Cantonese cultural tradition in the British colony together with pressure
from the overseas market encouraged the industry to produce star images
different from those produced by the Communist cultural environment in
China.
 Introduction xvii
A criticism-led approach
Film archives, national film awards, film festivals and publications on films
all contribute to our understanding of national cinema. Darrell William
Davis (1996: 17–25) suggests three kinds of perception of the way in which
cinema generates its national significance. One he terms the ‘reflectionist
model’. This model is used to evaluate and write about a national film
industry and its films in relation to national politics and social issues. The
second he calls the ‘dialogic model’, which emphasises the similarities and
differences between a country’s cinema and other national films. The third
kind of perception views national cinemas as inherently contaminated.
This approach regards cinema as an international institution of which
national cinema is but a minor component.
These three approaches have all found their expression in Hong Kong’s
mainstream critical film discourses since the 1970s. Writing about Hong
Kong cinema has been conducted predominantly on the basis of the
‘reflectionist model’, with local films being evaluated in relation to both
Hong Kong’s political, economic and social contexts and Chinese tradi-
tional aesthetics. The dialogic and contamination models were also
common to film critique in local film magazines, film reviews, journals and
the government-sponsored publications of the Hong Kong International
Film Festival and Hong Kong Film Archive. These three modes of critique
implied and reinforced the idea that Hong Kong cinema was a type of
‘national’ cinema. They encouraged both the local and the international
communities to perceive Hong Kong ‘nationhood’ through Hong Kong
films and to understand Hong Kong cinema as a distinct cinema in its own
right.
However, Hong Kong cinema could by no means be regarded as an
‘ideal’ national cinema. For one, the notion of Hong Kong’s indigenous
identity only makes sense if we exclude mainland China. Is Hong Kong’s
indigenous identity then no more than its British colonial identity? And
how can we draw a distinction between Hong Kong and its British colonial
identity? Furthermore, the Hong Kong film industry has certainly been
effective in constructing a Hong Kong identity by adapting, borrowing
from and modifying China’s cultural texts and generic conventions. So to
what extent can we differentiate Hong Kong cinema from the notions of
Chinese minzu or haiwai Huaren cinema?

Minzu cinema, haiwai huaren cinema and bentu cinema

Hong Kong cinema as part of Zhonghua minzu cinema

While the term minzu is one of the most significant and commonly used
concepts in Chinese political and aesthetic discourse, Hong Kong cinema
exceeds the concept of minzu cinema – it cannot be contained within the
xviii Introduction
concept. The term minzu came from the Japanese word minzoku at the
end of the nineteenth century (Peng 1985: 5–11). It denotes nationhood
and ethnicity. In Chinese, minzu describes ‘a stable gongtong ti (commun-
ity) formed over a long period’ (Shi 1984: 57–9). In a broad sense, the term
refers to any community whose formation or existence was defined by
race, ethnicity, religion or geopolitical territory. For instance, communities
can be defined by ideas of race, as in Arab minzu; by religion, as in a
Jewish minzu; by ethnicity, as in the Han Chinese (Hanzu); or by geopolit-
ical nation-states, as in American minzu and Zhonghua (Chinese) minzu.
In a specific sense minzu is equivalent to the concept of nation-state,
which refers to those communities established largely during the capitalist
period of the nineteenth century: Australian minzu, Indian minzu, Indo-
nesian minzu and Zhonghua minzu (Chinese minzu).
In accord with the concept of minzu, the term minzu cinema suggests a
cinema defined both by its geopolitical cultural identity or/and ethnic iden-
tity. Insofar as a minzu cinema is defined by geopolitical cultural identity,
Hong Kong cinema was perceived as part of Chinese minzu cinema, in the
sense that China regarded itself as having sovereignty over Hong Kong.
For instance, a mainland film scholar, Cai Hongshen (1992: 1), begins his
study of Hong Kong and Taiwan cinemas with the following statement:

There is no doubt that Hong Kong cinema and Taiwanese cinema are
an important part of Zhongguo dianying (China’s cinema).

Similarly, Wang Jianye (1995: 1) writes with respect to Hong Kong liter-
ature:

Hong Kong is part of China’s territory. Therefore, there is no doubt

that Hong Kong literature is part of Chinese literature.

In Chinese critical discourse, the term minzu cinema connotes the signific-
ance of an ethnic cultural tradition and/or geopolitically defined national
cinema. It centred on two major areas: film aesthetics in relation to tradi-
tional aesthetics and the arts; and film subject themes in relation to the
mainland. Chinese film theorist Luo Yijun (1992: 267) defines the term by
remarking that film-makers ‘consciously inherit and develop Chinese
traditional aesthetics (meixue sixiang) and philosophy of art (yishu guan)’.
In a similar vein, Zhang Chenshang (1985: 59–87; Y. Jun 1997: 196–230)
identifies six cinematic features in early Chinese cinema, all relating to
Chinese cultural tradition, that present Chinese minzu identity. Hong
Kong film scholar Lin Nien-tung (1984: 30–64, 73–115) also argues that
minzu film styles show as composition of images influenced by classical
poems, Confucian ideology and the yinyang philosophy.
How ‘traditional aesthetics and philosophy of art’ are inherited, modi-
fied or ‘invented’ is affected by political, economic and social contexts.
 Introduction xix
Where minzu in the cinematic context almost exclusively refers to the ‘tra-
dition’ and national culture of China, there are difficulties in perceiving
Hong Kong cinema as part of Zhonghua minzu cinema when Hong Kong
films exhibit both traditional and modern characteristics, or Chinese famil-
ism and Western capitalism, ethnic Chinese identity and the cultural
identity of the British colony.

Hong Kong cinema as haiwai Huaren cinema

The term haiwai Huaren (overseas Chinese or Chinese diasporic) cinema
is an extension of minzu cinema overseas. It continues to define film pro-
duction, film products and markets based on ethnic Chinese cultural iden-
tity with any emphasis on cultural tradition. As the term haiwai Huaren
implies a diasporic triangular relationship between motherland, host
country and the diaspora, haiwai Huaren cinema also embodies the notion
of the diasporic triangular relationship between the myth of motherland,
the identities of ‘foreignness’ and ‘difference’, and the host country
(Safran 1991: 83–4).
Unlike the concept of national cinema, in which geopolitical boundaries
play a significant role, diasporic cinema operates on the margins of a
nation and simultaneously crosses national cultural boundaries. As
opposed to the idea of transnational, diasporic cinema implies an imagi-
nary ‘homeland’. For diasporic cinema, the ‘domestic industry’ and the
‘domestic market’ cannot be singularly defined according to a breakdown
of autonomous nation-states. Rather they are conceptualised according to
cultural boundaries and generated by a constituency of racial and ethnic
communities located ‘inside’, ‘outside’, ‘between’ or ‘beyond’ national
boundaries.
Hong Kong cinema in the 1950s and 1960s displayed characteristics of
diasporic cinema. The loss of homeland, a nostalgia for the motherland,
and the experience of exile in films stressed ethnic cultural identification
with the mainland and expressed a belief in the essence of racial or ethnic
culture. However, the rise of local cultural nationalism in the 1970s in
Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, the Philippines, Taiwan and Hong Kong
have impacted on the traditional Chinese diasporic film market. The Hong
Kong film industry could no longer depend on a singular, defined Chinese
diasporic experience. In this context, the notion of ‘haiwai Huaren cinema’
has its own limitations.

Hong Kong cinema as bentu cinema

In the mid-1970s a political cultural term, bentu dianying (indigenous
cinema), was developed to refer to Hong Kong film as a geopolitically
defined cinema. The term differentiates Hong Kong cinema from ethnic-
ally based notions of minzu and haiwai huaren cinema. It plays down the
xx Introduction
significance of ethnic Chinese identity and emphasises the importance of a
geopolitically defined cinema in the territory.
Hong Kong film critics have developed two broad approaches to their
cinema. The first approach is to emphasise the function of cinema in the
community, while the second is to argue the ‘indigenousness’ of Hong
Kong cinema as a consequence of the absorption and modification of ele-
ments from the Chinese artistic tradition and other national film products.
These approaches have contributed greatly to the construction of Hong
Kong cinema as a type of ‘national’ cinema.
However, studies of Hong Kong cinema as an indigenous cinema have
not addressed the ambiguities and imperfection of its conceptual status as
a national cinema. For instance, how does Hong Kong’s ‘indigenous iden-
tity’ sit with the actual colonial status of Hong Kong before July 1997?
And how does this ‘indigenous identity’ sit with Hong Kong’s self-
interpretation as part of the Chinese national community?

Hong Kong cinema as a quasi-national cinema

From the perspective of the triangular relationship between the British
coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong, this book examines
how changes in this relationship during different historical periods have
influenced Hong Kong cinema, and how Hong Kong cinema has
responded to the changes in the triadic relationship. It studies Hong Kong
cinema through four approaches: the production-centred industry, the
exhibition-led market, the creation of film texts, and the emergence of a
critical tradition. Hong Kong Cinema does not offer a complete historical
survey of film-making in Hong Kong, but rather uses a perspective based
on historical works and data. While the book is not an auteur study, focus-
ing on particular directors such as Ann Hui, Allen Fong, Jackie Chan, Tsui
Hark, Stanley Kwan, it does examine these directors’ films in order to
explore the broader issues relating to national and quasi-national cinema.
Neither is the book a study of film movements, such as Hong Kong new
wave or post-new wave films. It does, however, indicate the significance of
those Hong Kong new wave films that contribute to an understanding of
Hong Kong cinema as a quasi-national cinema. Finally, the book is not a
study of postmodernism or postcolonialism in Hong Kong films, but it
does draw on various arguments from these studies to explore the ques-
tion of Hong Kong cinema in relation to the notion of national cinema.
The book has seven chapters. Chapter 1 studies Hong Kong cinema
from its inception in 1913 to the mid-1950s. It argues that the nature of the
triangular relationship in the first half of the twentieth century provided a
political and social context that allowed Hong Kong cinema to function as
part of Chinese cinema. Chapter 2 focuses on the period from the mid-
1950s to the late 1970s. It presents the argument that Hong Kong cinema
functioned as Chinese diasporic cinema. Chapters 3 to 6 focus on the
 Introduction xxi
period from the late 1970s to 1997. These chapters develop the key argu-
ment of the book that Hong Kong cinema is a quasi-national cinema.
Chapter 3 concentrates on the areas of production, market and criticism,
Chapter 4 studies Hong Kong films as a collection of specific cultural prod-
ucts, while Chapters Five and Six pay special attention the cinematic con-
struction of Hong Kong nationhood through textual analysis. Chapter 7,
deals with Hong Kong cinema after 1997. The core argument here is that
even after the return of Hong Kong to China, Hong Kong cinema con-
tinues to retain its quasi-national statues. A brief conclusion foregrounds
those arguments that demonstrate how Hong Kong cinema exhibits its
characteristics of ambiguity and imperfection in relation to the concept of
national cinema.
1 Hong Kong cinema as part of
Chinese national cinema
1913–56

The triangular relationship between China, Britain and Hong Kong that
dominated the history of Hong Kong at the end of the twentieth century
also operated in the first half of that century, but in a very different way.
In the earlier period, the British policy of non-interference in local
Chinese affairs and the lack of a defined Hong Kong identity meant that
China played a far more dominant role in that triangle than it was to later.
As a result, Hong Kong cinema in the early period can be seen essentially,
if ambivalently, as part of Chinese national cinema.
The claim that Hong Kong cinema was part of Chinese national cinema
in the period of 1913–56 has its foundation in the fact that China was the
source and resource for Hong Kong cinema in terms of film market, film
talent and financial investment. However, in relation to the concept of
national cinema, this argument poses a number of problems. A national
cinema is located within national geopolitical boundaries; but Hong Kong
cinema was located in a British colony neighbouring China. A national
cinema is subject to the laws of the nation-state; but Hong Kong cinema
was under British law and colonial regulations. Usually, national films are
produced mainly for the domestic market; but successive Chinese national
government(s) have often excluded Hong Kong films from the mainland
market. Since the early 1950s, mainstream Hong Kong films have not been
part of film consumption in China.
These problems in defining Hong Kong cinema as part of Chinese
national cinema raise two important questions: In what ways did the Hong
Kong film industry function as part of Chinese national cinema? And how
did Hong Kong cinema present itself as part of Chinese national cinema?
This chapter advances two major arguments for Hong Kong cinema as
part of Chinese national cinema in the first half of the century. First, it
argues that the local Chinese community was encouraged to identify with
China by the British colonial dual system based on race and on mainland
Chinese nationalism. The community’s political and cultural identification
with China allowed the mainland Chinese to shape Hong Kong cinema in
the interests of China.
Second, as China was the major market for the Hong Kong film
2 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
industry, it encouraged the mainland politicians, bureaucrats, financial
investors, film-makers and film critics to play a dominant role in local
cinema. Hong Kong films were evaluated by mainland politicians and cul-
tural critics in terms of China’s national politics and society. As a con-
sequence, Hong Kong cinema in the first half of the century mirrored the
generalised Chinese community – its tensions, conflicts and ambiguity in
the filmic construction of Chinese national identity.
This chapter is organised into four sections. While the first section
examines the British colony in the context of the triangular relationship,
the other three sections discuss the Hong Kong film industry, its film prod-
ucts and film criticism according to Higson’s four approaches to national
cinema. Thus, the second section deals with the production-centred film
industry and its film markets. The third section explores the idea of
Chinese nationhood in Hong Kong film texts. The final section discusses
how film criticism in Hong Kong shaped Hong Kong cinema as part of
Chinese national cinema in the first half of the century.

Minimum intervention and Chinese nationalism

Freedom of movement between the colony and the mainland made Hong
Kong in the first half of the century a quite different place from later.
Before 1950, the colonial government did not impose restrictions on entry
to the colony, nor did the Chinese government prevent mainland Chinese
from working and living in Hong Kong. As a result, Hong Kong’s popu-
lation was influenced by political and economic changes on the mainland.
Within the colony, the British coloniser ran a dual political and social
system to differentiate two distinct communities, the British and the
Chinese. This system encouraged local Chinese to seek identification with
the mainland for a sense of belonging and security. At the same time, the
mainland Chinese actively encouraged the Hong Kong Chinese to make a
contribution to the Chinese nation-building programmes on the mainland.
Within this historical context, Hong Kong could hardly be perceived or
imagined as a distinct community of its own either by the British coloniser,
the mainland Chinese or by the local Chinese.
From the very beginning, the British coloniser believed that the
colony’s British and Chinese subjects should be governed differently. In
his first public proclamation in January 1841, the first governor of Hong
Kong, Captain Elliot, stated that, ‘all natives of the island and all natives
of China resorting thereto, were to be governed according to the [British]
laws’, but only people ‘other than natives or Chinese’ would enjoy full
security and protection according to the principles and practice of British
Law (Endacott 1958: 26–7; Eitel 1968: 164–5). His proclamation laid the
basis for the coloniser to practise two different codes of law in the early
period of Hong Kong.
Within the economic expansion of Hong Kong the local population
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 3
increased, as more mainland Chinese arrived at the British colony. With
Britain’s further annexation of the Kowloon peninsula in 1860, the colony
developed into a prosperous trading port and, at the same time, a society
with a high rate of crime and triads membership (Lethbridge 1978: 62). A
handful of colonial public institutions was no longer capable of coping
with the increased population and the maintenance of political and social
order. In the late nineteenth century, the colonial government developed a
structure based on Elliot’s bifurcated system to allow the local Chinese to
manage their own political and social affairs ‘without passing them the
practical powers of tax collection and military forces’ (Tsai 1993: 290).
Tung Wah Hospital, Po Leung Kuk (the society for the Protection of
Women and Girls) and the District Watch Committee were established for
the provision of social services. However, with the consent of the colonial
government, these organisations ‘extended their scope of activities beyond
charitable work to include the management of public affairs in Hong
Kong’ (Tsai 1993: 69), to perform as a Chinese court and to function as a
Chinese Executive Council. The division into two communities was rein-
forced again through racially based administration. Ian Scott (1989: 62)
charts this colonial structure from late last century to the late 1960s as
shown in Figure 1.1.
The dual system of law and administration encouraged the local
Chinese to differentiate themselves from the colonial government and the
British community. They practised their own cultural traditions and reli-
gious beliefs, and relied on their close connection with the mainland cul-
turally, economically and politically. As the wealthy Chinese merchants
suffered from racially based legislation in residence, education, public
health and other matters (Wesley-Smith 1994: 91–105), they were encour-
aged to strengthen their ethnic, cultural and political connections with
China. Additionally, their connection with China, in some cases, brought
them official appointments from the colonial government, which in turn
elevated their social status in the colony. However, in return, the mainland

Governor

District Watch Committee Chamber of Commerce

Tung Wah Board of Directors Executive Council H.K. and Shanghai Bank
Sanitation Board The Large Hongs
Chinese Chamber of Commerce Legislative Council Jockey Club
Heung Yee Kuk Sanitation Board
Po Leung Kuk Civil Service

Chinese community Policy outputs European community

Figure 1.1 The colonial structure of Hong Kong up to the late 1960s
4 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
Chinese also required them to be loyal to China through financial and
political contributions (Tsai 1993: 65–102).
Freedom of movement enabled the mainland Chinese the right to
access the colony. It made Hong Kong not only a place for economic
adventure but also a place for conducting political activities forbidden on
the mainland. In the 1850s, less than a decade after the British colony was
founded, the anti-Manchu Taiping movement drove many wealthy
Chinese in the south to the colony and, later, Taiping rebels and revolu-
tionaries themselves also sought political refuge in Hong Kong (Yuan
1993: 114). In the latter part of the last century, Dr Sun Yat-sen and
republican revolutionaries developed their ideas on overthrowing the
Qing Dynasty in Hong Kong. The colony was crucial in the republican
revolution in terms of gaining financial support from overseas and in pro-
viding an exile base for the mainland rebels and revolutionaries.
With support from the local Chinese community, Hong Kong continued
to play an important role in Chinese national politics. Between 1912 and
1913 the local Chinese organised a 3-month tramway boycott to protest
against the colonial government banning the use of mainland coins in
Hong Kong. They regarded the decision as ‘an unfriendly act and highly
disrespectful towards the new republic’ (M.K. Chan 1994: 29). A similar
popular nationalism was also shown in the support of the local Chinese of
the May Fourth movement, and in their participation in the boycott of
Japanese goods in 1919 and the Seamen’s Strike in 1922. Organised by the
Guomindang and the Chinese Communist Party in 1925 and 1926 as part
of the nationalist movement against British imperialism, thousands of
Hong Kong workers left Hong Kong for the mainland to join the by then
18-month long Canton-Hong Kong General Strike. The strike paralysed
business and trade in Hong Kong to a degree that almost ruined British
interests in South China.
Japan’s invasion of China strengthened the Chinese nationalism in Hong
Kong. During the 1930s, mainland nationalists, including left-wing cultural
workers, the Communists and Guomindang supporters, went to Hong Kong
to promote the anti-Japanese war. Apart from the period of the Japanese
occupation of Hong Kong between 1941 and 1945, the colony again func-
tioned as a base for mainland Chinese to gain overseas financial support and
to conduct political activities that would have endangered their lives on the
mainland. After the British regained the colony in 1945, the population in
Hong Kong increased dramatically. Tens of thousands of mainland refugees
arrived in the colony, including those cultural workers who had worked and
co-operated with the Japanese during the Japanese occupation of Shanghai.
A large group of mainland Communists and left-wing activists also came to
Hong Kong to promote the anti-Guomindang movement. After the Guo-
mindang lost their battle with the Communists for control of the mainland,
another wave of mainland political and economic refugees arrived in Hong
Kong. From 1945 to the mid-1950s, over one million mainland Chinese
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 5
migrated to Hong Kong (Hong Kong 1956: 3). These included Shanghai
capitalists, wealthy merchants, professionals and labourers from the nearby
area of Guangzhou. Consequently, mainland national political culture was
transplanted to and intensified in the colony.
The British colony, Hong Kong, was founded to serve the interests of
the British. At the same time, however, the mainland Chinese also used
the colony to further China’s interests. The colonial dual system and
China’s involvement with the colony encouraged the Hong Kong Chinese
to seek belonging, security and authenticity from the mainland and, there-
fore, to identify themselves as part of the Chinese nation through progres-
sively strengthening ethnic ties, cultural tradition and mutual political and
economic needs. In the context of its part in a triangular relationship in the
first half of the century, Hong Kong was unable to develop its own cultural
identity that could resist mainland’s nationalism.

National politics and the mainland market

Before the Chinese border was closed in 1950, and before mainstream
Hong Kong films were banned in China from 1952, the Shanghai film
industry and the Hong Kong film industry shared similar film markets,
production modes and film talents. At the time, South China and Macau
formed about 80 per cent of the foreign market of Hong Kong films, with
10 per cent coming from Vietnam, the Philippines, Malaya and Indonesia
(Leung and Chan 1997: 143), and 10 per cent from Chinese enclaves in
Western countries. According to the Hong Kong film historian Yu Mo-
wan (1994: 88–99) two-thirds of Hong Kong film directors were originally
from Shanghai. These film-makers directed more than half of the Can-
tonese films before the Second World War. From the late 1940s to the
1950s, one third of Cantonese films were also directed by mainland film-
makers. Despite its reputation as a centre of Cantonese film production,
the Hong Kong film industry was shaped by and mirrored mainland
national political concerns through its interaction with the Chinese
national government, the Shanghai film industry, the left-wing and Com-
munist film-makers and cultural critics.
The British colony played an important role in the early construction of
Chinese national cinema. With a considerable financial input from Hong
Kong in 1929, the first Chinese film enterprise, operated in the form of a
national integrated trust, Lianhua Production and Printing Limited, was
established in Shanghai by two Cantonese, Luo Mingyou and Li Minwei.
With a family business across Guangzhou and Hong Kong, and close
family connections with the Guomindang government, Luo Mingyou was
known as the first Chinese to own a chain of cinema theatres in North
China in the 1920s (Zhu and Wang 1991: 70–2). Born in Japan from a
Chinese rice dealer family in Hong Kong, Li Minwei was one of the early
Chinese film pioneers in Hong Kong, and a strong republican supporter
6 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
(Gong 1962: 123–138; Zhong 1965: 20). He made the first Hong Kong film,
Zhuangzi shi qi / Zhuangzi Tests his Wife, in 1913, produced the first Hong
Kong feature film, Yanzhi / Rouge, in 1924, and built the first Hong Kong
film studio in 1925. He also filmed a number of newsreels about Dr Sun
Yat-sen’s revolutionary activities in China. As a result of the Hong Kong-
Canton General Strike in 1925, the small Hong Kong film industry, which
had produced fewer than fifteen movies between 1913 and 1925 collapsed.
In the aftermath of the strike, Li Minwei, like most Hong Kong film-
makers, left the colony for the mainland. In 1926, Li transferred his
company, Minxin, to Shanghai.
While film-making in Hong Kong was at a standstill between 1925 and
1929, Li Minwei and his business partner Luo Mingyou planned to develop
a centralised national film industry with its headquarters set up in Hong
Kong and a production centre in Shanghai. They invited the most wealthy
and politically influential Chinese person in the colony, Sir Robert Ho
Tung (He Dong), to be the chairman of the Lianhua Executive Board. At
the same time, they also gained the support of a number of financial
investors, including Guomindang bureaucrats, merchants, film producers,
distributors and exhibitors from Hong Kong, Singapore, Shanghai and
Zhejiang province (Cheng 1966: 147). Lianhua controlled six film studios,
with four located in Shanghai, one in Hong Kong and one in Beijing. As
Shanghai was the production centre, the film industry’s headquarters
moved to Shanghai a year later.
Responding to the Nanjing government’s agenda of anti-imperialism
and anti-feudalism, Lianhua aimed for a centralised national film industry
which would resist ‘feudalist’ films from the Chinese domestic film indus-
try, and non-Chinese films, especially from Hollywood. In its ten trade and
business principles drawn up in 1929 (and reproduced below), Lianhua
detailed its relationship with the national government, other national busi-
ness sectors and the national community (Du 1986b, vol.1: 82–3).

1 Renovate the national cinema. Diminish the trend of superstition

and violence in current national films.
2 Use film as a tool for mass education. Bring films to the country
and hinterland areas. Produce more educational documentary
films.
3 Serve the industry; maintain and defend the benefit of Chinese
film exhibitors through mutual assistance. Encourage those
Chinese exhibitors reluctant to project Chinese movies to change
their minds.
4 Resist the cultural and economic invasion of non-Chinese films.
Promote national, intrinsic virtues, and direct the national cinema
against alien culture. Unite Chinese theatre-owners to purchase
non-Chinese theatres to show more Chinese films to block the
economic invasion of foreign films.
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 7
5 Train more people to involve themselves in the Chinese film indus-
try. In particular, pay more attention to recruiting the talents of
various types into the industry, avoiding ‘stealing’ personnel in the
same field. When there is a need, establish a national film school.
6 Assist national undertakings, and co-operate with industrial enti-
ties owned by Chinese. Where possible, we must foster our
national products through films, encouraging people to consume
more national products in order to assist our industry.
7 Develop the overseas market, promoting Chinese national films
first in the South-East Asian region, and then in European and
American markets.
8 Uphold the rights of film-makers, cultivate the professional con-
sciousness of the film-makers, and clear up society’s misconcep-
tion of and prejudice against film-makers.
9 Establish a centre for film production. From the very beginning,
we must adopt a system of collaboration within the sectors and,
later on, link them together to establish a Chinese movie centre.
10 Make a contribution to the nation and to society. Use film to
promote government policies. If necessary, set up services in
various places.

However, the introduction of sound into film complicated Li and Luo’s

intention of treating the colony’s film industry as part of Chinese national
cinema, as sound technology highlighted the linguistic difference between
Cantonese and Mandarin. In 1933, the first Cantonese film Baijin Long /
White Golden Dragon was produced in Shanghai by Tianyi, one of the
three major film studios in Shanghai at the time. The economic success of
the film in South China encouraged Tianyi to establish a Cantonese film
production company Nanyang in Hong Kong in the following year.
Founded in 1924 and managed by four brothers from the Shaw (Shao)
family, which included the well-known Chinese film tycoon Run Run
Shaw (Shao Yifu), Tianyi was the most commercially successful film pro-
duction company, and the most ‘unco-operative’ with either the Guomin-
dang or the left-wing film-makers. Unlike Lianhua, which aimed to
produce films that reflected China as a modern nation, Tianyi aimed to
‘focus on traditional virtues and ethics, foster Chinese civilisation, and
refrain from Westernisation’ (Zhuzhong jiu daode, jiu lunli, fayang
Zhonghua wenming, libi ouhua). The company pioneered two Chinese
film genres: wuxia pian (martial arts films) and guzhuang pian (traditional
costume films). Films in these two genres were heavily attacked by the
Guomindang government, the left-wing activists, the Communists and the
Chinese literati as ‘low taste’, ‘backward’ and ‘feudalist’ products (J.
Cheng 1966, vol.1: 86–90; Du 1986b, vol.1: 69–70).
While sound technology in film allowed the Hong Kong film industry to
develop into a centre for Cantonese film production, the industry’s
8 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
reliance on the mainland market inevitably allowed the local industry to
be interfered with by Chinese national politics.
In 1937, the Guomindang government proposed banning Cantonese
films on the grounds that Cantonese films were opposed to the govern-
ment policy of unifying the nation under a single national language (Yi Lin
1 February 1937, editorial; 15 March 1937). The proposal met with strong
reaction from the Cantonese film industry, in particular Hong Kong film
producers and film exhibitors in South China. In order to protect their
interests in the mainland market, Cantonese film-makers argued that Can-
tonese films were legitimate national cultural products. The Cantonese
film-makers argued that, contrary to the government’s claim, Cantonese
films had made a great contribution to national unification (J. Chen
1937a). As Mandarin was not the native language of either the Southern
Chinese or the overseas Chinese, Cantonese films had already assisted the
government in bringing these communities together by attracting them
away from Hollywood films. Hence, the government’s proposal to ban
Cantonese films would only assist Hollywood’s domination in China (J.
Chen 1937b). Banning Cantonese films would not only contradict the uni-
fication policy, but also in a way betray the Chinese nation by encouraging
Chinese nationals to consume non-Chinese films (Huang 1937).
After many petitions and negotiations over several months between the
Cantonese film industry and the mainland government, the Nanjing
central government finally agreed to delay the proposed ban for 3 years
before it was considered for legislation. However, the government
emphasised that whether the proposal became law depended on the
Nanjing Central Committee’s evaluation of ‘whether the ideological
content of Cantonese film was suitable to the Chinese nation’ (Yi Lin 1
April 1937, stop press).
The Guomindang government’s message exemplified political bargain-
ing. It would not ban Hong Kong films as long as the Hong Kong film
industry contributed to the construction of the Chinese nation-building
programme. A few months later, a response to the government’s demands
appeared in the local film journal Yi Lin. The editorial suggested that the
Cantonese film industry should participate in the construction of national
culture. It suggested that the industry should produce two types of films.
The first was ‘minzu revolutionary film’, ‘to promote patriotic spirit’, with
the nation in danger from Japanese aggression and invasion (Yi Lin 1
August 1937). The second type was ‘lunli (Confucian ethics) melodrama’:

In the launch of the New Life movement, President Jiang [Jiang

Jieshi] has advised us to foster traditional virtues of li yi lian chi [pro-
priety, righteousness, honesty and a sense of shame] and xiao di zhong
xin [filial piety and loyalty]. Thus, we [the Hong Kong film industry]
should make more lunli films to promote our four thousand years of
cultural morality and ethics.
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 9
The response from the Hong Kong industry appeared encouraging.1 By
the end of 1937, the industry had produced thirty-three ‘minzu revolution-
ary’ films, compared to four in 1936 (M.W. Yu 1995: 61). But the number
of patriotic film productions decreased to an average of ten films a year in
the following 4 years leading up to the Japanese attack on Hong Kong in
December 1941. In fact, the number of patriotic films made after 1937 was
perhaps exaggerated as these films included films made by Communist and
Guomindang film producers and directors in Hong Kong, as for instance
Situ Huimin’s three films, Xuejian Baoshan cheng / Blood Splashes on
Baoshan (1938), Youji jinxing qu / March of the Guerrillas (1938) and
Baiyun guxiang / White Cloud Village (1940), and Cai Chusheng’s Gudao
tiantang / Orphan Island Paradise (1939).
The reason for the decrease in patriotic films was simple: a commercial
film industry could not survive on politically oriented films. Furthermore,
after Guangzhou and its hinterland fell into Japanese hands after October
1938, any anti-Japanese films or films promoting Chinese nationalism
would in all likelihood be banned. Some of the countries in South-East
Asia also banned anti-Japanese films or restricted politically oriented
films. Revenue generated in the colony alone could not cover production
costs. For this reason, Hong Kong film producers requested that the
national government provide some financial assistance in producing patri-
otic films, for instance, by reducing tariff on Hong Kong films to the main-
land for patriotic film productions, or by ensuring that patriotic films were
exhibited in South-East Asia through the government’s diplomatic negoti-
ations (Yi Lin 1 October 1938). None of these requests was answered.
The Japanese occupation of Shanghai in 1937 and of Guangzhou in
1938 indirectly nourished the Hong Kong film industry. Hong Kong
feature production increased from forty-five in 1936 to 117 in 1939. The
increase was based on two major factors. First, Japan’s occupation of
Shanghai in 1937 drove more film-makers to Hong Kong. Second, as
Chinese national censorship was invalid in the Japanese-occupied areas,
the Hong Kong film industry was able to produce more commercially ori-
ented films that the national government and left-wing film-makers would
have labelled ‘feudalist’, ‘low taste’ and ‘lacking minzu consciousness’ (J.
Cheng 1966, vol.2: 86–8; Du 1978, vol.2: 38–40).
National politics further dominated the Hong Kong film industry after
the Japanese returned the colony to the British in 1945. As the Guomin-
dang government regarded those who had worked with the Japanese as
national traitors, many Shanghai film-makers came to the colony to escape
Guomindang political harassment. Some film-makers, such as the left-wing
activists and the Communist film-makers, arrived in the colony with the
aim of guiding the Hong Kong film industry towards making politically
oriented films (Ding 1990: 128). Their arrival in Hong Kong strengthened
Mandarin film production and, at the same time, encouraged national poli-
tics to develop in the local industry.
10 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
Due to their different reactions to the uncertainty of the mainland
market and to their different relationships with the national Guomindang
government, the Mandarin and Cantonese film industries in Hong Kong
developed differently after the Second World War. For the Mandarin film
industry, the mainland was the market. The issue for Mandarin film-
makers was simple: how to establish a national distribution and exhibition
network on the mainland as soon as possible. However, the Cantonese
film-makers had a different agenda as a result of their experience.
Remembering that the Guomindang government had intended to ban
Cantonese films in 1937, Cantonese film-makers were primarily concerned
with their industry’s survival. Would the Guomindang government con-
tinue to allow the screening of Cantonese films on the mainland? For how
long and under what terms? Would the Cantonese film industry survive on
its overseas markets alone, if the national government banned Cantonese
films on the mainland? How should the Cantonese film industry strike a
balance between the Chinese government’s request to promote national
unification, and the domestic and overseas markets’ demand for popular
folklore products of traditional costume, martial arts films and Chinese
ghost stories?2 Based on their different concerns for their respective
markets, the two film industries took different approaches.
During this complex and politically unstable period, national politics
shaped the fate of a number of film companies established after the
Second World War. In 1946, having failed to obtain a studio in Shanghai,
Jiang Boying, a distributor, who owned a number of cinema houses in
central China, came to Hong Kong with several Shanghai film producers.
He leased a local studio and established Da Zhonghua Film Production
Company. The company was regarded at the time as the first grand pro-
duction company in local history, with over one hundred employees
(Cheuk 1995: 98–104). Most of the employees were contracted from
Shanghai, including some of the better known Mandarin directors, writers
and stars who worked under the Japanese occupation of Shanghai. Within
3 years, the company had produced thirty-four Mandarin films and nine
Cantonese films. In 1948, as the Communists expanded in the areas
towards the South, Hong Kong film markets were gradually shrinking. In
response, Jiang Boying transferred Da Zhonghua to Shanghai, believing
that the Communist government would not restrict films made in Shang-
hai. He expected that his company would have a share in the mainland
market (Shen 1976: 52–77). Not too long after the establishment of the
People’s Republic of China in 1949, however, Da Zhonghua was gradually
taken over by the government.
Yonghua was another example of a film company bankrupted by mis-
calculating national politics. When the company was established in early
1948, Li Zuyong, a Zhejiang capitalist with a family in the printing busi-
ness, did not expect that the Communists would take over China within 2
years (Law 1990: 11). Nor did he expect that he would lose the entire
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 11
mainland market after the Communists came to power. With an invest-
ment of US$3,750,000 (Du 1986b, vol.3: 103–4), Li aimed to build a
Chinese film industry in Hong Kong that would be comparable to Holly-
wood. The company, just as did Da Zhonghua, had attracted Mandarin
film-makers from Shanghai and other parts of China. With comfortable
production budgets, glamorous Mandarin stars and top crews, Yonghua’s
first two films became renowned not only as classic Chinese films, but also
as two well-known films in the history of Chinese politics. Both Guo hun /
Soul of China and Qinggong mishi / Sorrows of the Forbidden City were
made in 1948. Soul of China portrayed a famous minzu hero, Wen Tianxi-
ang, who killed himself to show his loyalty to the Song Dynasty when con-
fronted with the Mongol invasion. The film was criticised by the
Communists as ‘promoting loyalty to the Guomindang on the eve of the
Guomindang being overthrown by the Communists’ (J. Cheng 1966, vol.2:
317). Indeed, the Guomindang leader Jiang Jieshi praised the film highly
and ordered thirty more copies for his soldiers at the frontier (Du 1986b,
vol.2: 317). Sorrows of the Forbidden City (known as The Secret History of
the Ch’ing Court) depicted the conflict between the Manchu Emperor and
the Empress dowager Cixi during the late Qing Dynasty. The Communists
accused the film of insulting the Boxer Rebellion and praising the British
imperialists as reformists modernising China. In the early 1960s, in spite of
the film having been banned in China, Mao Zedong launched a national
debate to condemn the film along with Wuxun zhuan / The Story of
Wuxun. The national debate was one of the key triggers of the Cultural
Revolution.
These first two films marked Yonghua as an anti-Communist film
company. After Soul of China was produced in 1948, the Communists and
left-wing film-makers sought opportunities to work in Yonghua in order to
control the political content of its production. By inserting ‘revolutionary’
messages in the process of shooting, the left-wing film-makers managed to
produce several ‘progressive’ films. However, because Li was not a Com-
munist supporter, and given his ambition to sell his films to America and
Europe, he started to censor film scripts and check footage himself to
ensure ‘correct’ political content (Du 1986b, vol.2: 376). This made it diffi-
cult for the left-wing film-makers, so they changed strategies by organising
strikes to postpone productions. In 1952, more than twenty Yonghua left-
wing film-makers were sent back to China by the Hong Kong government
(Du 1986b, vol.3: 99; Law 1990: 12). After the loss of the mainland market
and having been involved with national political struggles for a number of
years (even with the financial support from the Guomindang government
in Taiwan after 1955), Yonghua was finally taken over by a Malaysian
Chinese distribution company, Cathay, in 1956.
Similar political battles also intensified in medium-sized Mandarin film
companies during this period. For instance, Changcheng was established
by the number one ‘traitor’ Zhang Shankun, who had worked closely with
12 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
the Japanese in Shanghai. After the company made several Mandarin
films in 1948 and 1950, left-wing film-makers took control in 1950 (Shen
1976: 81–2). Until 1980 Changcheng remained as one of the two major left-
wing Mandarin film companies in Hong Kong.
National politics forced the Mandarin film industry to split into two
streams: pro-mainland left-wing or pro-Taiwan right-wing companies.
After the Communist government had banned mainstream Hong Kong
films in the early 1950s, and after the Guomindang government had
announced its film policies of encouraging Mandarin film-makers to join
the Taiwan film industry in 1952, Hong Kong Mandarin film-makers had
to declare their political stand. As many countries banned cultural prod-
ucts associated with Communist China, the cinema theatres owned by the
Chinese government in Hong Kong provided the most guaranteed film
markets for left-wing film production. These film companies did, however,
remain profitable until the late 1950s, when the mainland was finally
closed to all films made in Hong Kong.
By contrast, pro-Taiwan Mandarin companies had wider access to
markets, including Taiwan, America, Singapore, Malaysia and the Philip-
pines. In 1953, the pro-Taiwan film-makers’ organisation, Freedom
Association (Ziyou gonghui), was formed. In order to promote Mandarin
as the official language in Taiwan, the Guomindang government intro-
duced a number of film policies to ensure that Hong Kong Mandarin film-
makers could contribute to the newly established Taiwan film industry
(Zhong 1965: 20). In addition, the Guomindang government also
announced a policy declaring that Taiwan would ban any films that had
had the involvement of film-makers or film companies associated with left-
wing film-making either in Hong Kong or the mainland (Y.T. Zhang 1968:
41–2). As Taiwan was a considerable Mandarin film market outside the
mainland, the government’s policy effectively prevented some Hong Kong
film-makers from being involved with left-wing companies in Hong Kong.
The Cantonese film industry faced a different political scenario from
the Mandarin film industry, as the Guomindang government was not inter-
ested in Cantonese films. As Cantonese cinema had a reputation of being
‘feudal’, ‘low art’ and ‘backward’ in its mass production of Cantonese
opera, martial arts and Chinese ghost stories, Cantonese melodrama film-
makers aimed to ‘improve’ the quality of Cantonese films as legitimate
‘national art’. Their desire was encouraged by the left-wing film-makers
who had a professional reputation for and practical experience in produc-
ing ‘quality’ films – in their case, social realist films in Shanghai and Hong
Kong. Among them were the well-known Communist film script-writer
and film critic Xia Yan; Communist film director, producer and Columbia
University graduate Situ Huimin; and the first Chinese film director to win
an international award from Moscow, the best known left-wing film direc-
tor, Cai Chusheng, who was of Cantonese origin.
Before Hong Kong films were banned on the mainland in 1952, the
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 13
colony had already developed a considerable domestic market for the
Cantonese film industry due to the dramatic increase of Cantonese
refugees after the war. While significant, this did not in any sense compare
with the Cantonese film markets in South China. Nevertheless, the Hong
Kong film industry developed its own strategies to cope with a consider-
able decline in its market. Many film companies minimised risks in produc-
tion by producing numerous films on small budgets. This can be seen in
the fact that over one-third of Cantonese films were based on Cantonese
opera (M.W. Yu 1987: 18–21). The block-booking system, the pre-selling
of copyright to overseas film distributors and Hong Kong exhibitors, could
ensure up to 60 per cent or more of production budgets (Weng 1978:
58–9). However, as Cantonese opera at the time was regarded by the intel-
lectual elite as representing both feudalism and low class entertainment,
this association with the Cantonese opera reinforced the reputation of
Cantonese films as ‘low quality’, ‘backward’, and ‘feudalist’. In spite of a
booming Cantonese film industry through the filming of Cantonese opera,
some Cantonese film-makers were discontented with a situation in which
opera performers were the stars in both live opera and the film medium
(M.W. Yu 1982: 34–5).
The Communist and left-wing film-makers indirectly provided the
answer for those Cantonese film-makers unhappy with the situation out-
lined above. In late 1948, Communist and left-wing film-makers and film
critics came to Hong Kong to conduct an anti-Guomindang movement to
gain overseas support for the Communist government in China (Xia 1983:
134–53). One of their tasks was to reform the Cantonese film industry –
shifting it from making traditional opera and martial arts films to more
‘progressive’ films. The left-wing film-makers established the Film Dir-
ectors Association (Daoyan lianyi hui) to integrate and unite local Can-
tonese film-makers in the exchange of professional knowledge, and to
direct them to understand that film is political (C.L. Li 1983: 120–4).
Although the association did not involve a great number of Cantonese
film-makers at first, its impact was enormous.
In 1949, Communists and left-wing film-makers launched the New
Southern China Film Movement to reform Cantonese cinema. One
hundred and sixty-four Cantonese film-makers responded to the campaign
of ‘a clean-up film movement’ and signed a manifesto promising ‘not to
produce or engage with any films that are contrary to the interests of
guojia minzu [nation-state] and are harmful to society’ (Lin and Yeung
1978: 15). They declared that they would not work with Cantonese opera
and martial arts film-makers, and would refuse to be ‘controlled’ by film
exhibitors3 who, as a matter of fact, were the most important investors.
This movement generated the beginning of a new Cantonese film trend –
focusing on ‘educational value’ and ‘artistic worthiness’. Following release
of the manifesto, the production system was the first to change. These pro-
gressive film-maker signatories established a Film-makers’ Cooperative
14 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
Union. The union actively launched a collectivisation campaign in the
industry. In 1952, the Zhonglian (China United) film company was estab-
lished by twenty-one well known Cantonese film directors, producers and
actors under a collective production system – a ‘socialist’ or ‘democratic’
system in terms of financial investment by the film-makers themselves and
in terms of collective decision making in the creation process. Hong Kong
film scholar Lin Nien-tung (1978a: 32) describes Zhonglian’s significance
as follows:

The emergence of Zhonglian checked the prevalent weakness, mal-

practice, short-sightedness and general philistinism of the Hong Kong
film industry and also helped to break the monopoly controls of large
film companies. Zhonglian films did not subscribe to the ‘no song, no
movie’ formulae of the era. It waged a long-term war on feudal
thought, superstitious beliefs and dominant business notions such as
‘production value’, ‘plot value’ and ‘box office value’.

What this movement practically ‘achieved’ was a ‘positive’ reputation for

Cantonese films as ‘genuine’ art, which allowed these Cantonese film-
makers the ‘right’ to access the mainland market when most Cantonese
films had been banned there since the early 1950s. However, as these com-
panies had an ‘association’ with Communist China, in the late 1950s and
early 1960s these film-makers were perceived as ‘left-wing’, or were
stigmatised for working in left-wing film companies. Subsequently, they
lost potential Cantonese film markets in South-East Asia and in the West
(M.W. Yu 1982: 39). Although coming from a different historical and cul-
tural background from the Mandarin film industry, the Cantonese film
industry was unable to avoid interference by mainland national politics as
it relied on the mainland market for its survival.

China as the subject

Before the Shanghai film industry was brought under the control of the
Communist government in the early 1950s, films produced in Shanghai
and Hong Kong shared many similarities in narrative, genre and cinematic
style. They presented similar images of Chinese cultural identities in social
realist ‘melodrama’, traditional costume and martial arts films. The main-
land was the subject and inspiration for the Hong Kong film industry,
which has not always been the case in later periods. During the first half of
the century, Hong Kong and Shanghai films can be generally divided into
two broad, but overlapping, streams of entertainment films and politically
oriented films. Each of these streams was influenced on the one hand by
the non-Chinese films of Hollywood and the Soviet Union, and on the
other hand, by indigenous cultural aesthetics and art forms.
In the early years of the 1920s, the era of silent films, there was little
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 15
difference between Shanghai and Hong Kong films. Hong Kong film-
makers actively sought film narrative inspiration from the mainland, for
instance, from screen adaptations of classical literature, folklore or polit-
ical and social events. After making a filmic adaptation of the Cantonese
opera Zhuangzi Tests his Wife (1913), Hong Kong film-maker Li Minwei
made his first feature film Rouge (1923), based on the work of Chinese
classical literature Liaozhai zhiyi (Strange Tales From a Chinese Studio),
and went to Beijing to film Mei Lanfang’s performance in Beijing Opera in
1924. His brother Li Beihai also made his first feature film Zuoci xi Cao /
Zuo Ci Teases Cao Cao4 (1930) based on the classical novel Sanguo yanyi
(The Romance of the Three Kingdoms). By contrast, the first Chinese
feature film made by Shanghai film-makers, Yan Ruisheng / Yan Ruisheng
(1920) was based on a real murder event – that of a gambler murdering a
prostitute to repay his debts in the 1920s. This contrast can be understood
as deriving from the fact that Hong Kong film-makers had consciously or
unconsciously from a very early period found their inspiration in China’s
indigenous culture.
While the Hong Kong film industry ceased production for a period from
the late 1920s, about 400 films were produced in Shanghai between 1928
and 1931 (J. Cheng 1966, vol.1: 133). During this period, the Shanghai film
industry developed three major film genres acknowledged by Chinese film
scholars as Chinese film genres: shehui lunli pian (social ethics melo-
drama), guzhuang pian (traditional costume films) and wuxia pian (martial
arts films). All three genres were transplanted to Hong Kong by the mid-
1930s. Hence, the two industries shared similarities in film genres, and
thereby similar narratives and iconography in their representations of
Chinese cultural identities and Chinese society.
Japan’s attack on North-East China in 1931 strengthened Hong Kong’s
political consciousness of national sovereignty. The anti-Japanese defence
movement was developed on the mainland with the participation of cul-
tural workers. The Guomindang government, Communists, and left-wing
and commercial film-makers alike were part of the movement. After
Lianhua and Tianyi produced the first two ‘defence films’ (Guofang diany-
ing) in 1932, Hong Kong soon followed. In 1935, one of the early Hong
Kong film-makers, a California University graduate, Kwan Man-ching
(Guan Wenqing), directed Shengming xian / Lifeline. The film presents a
story of ‘a Chinese engineer who overcame all sorts of difficulties to build
a railroad, which helped in the defence of the nation and securing the
livelihood of the people’ (M.W. Yu 1995: 61). The film was the first local
cultural product to cause concern for the colonial government. As Britain
took a neutral stance towards China and Japan, the film’s anti-Japanese
theme was politically inappropriate to the British coloniser. The film’s
release was delayed until late in 1935. As a Hong Kong film-maker, Kwan
regarded himself as a Chinese artist who ‘has a responsibility for the ups
and downs of our nation’ (Guan 1976: 197–8). Kwan’s patriotism and his
16 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
identification with the Chinese nation were certainly not unique in Hong
Kong. After Shanghai was attacked by the Japanese in 1937, the Hong
Kong film-makers volunteered to make another anti-Japanese film,
Zuihou guantou / At This Crucial Moment, while the studio-owners
offered free access to their equipment for the film-makers to do so (M.W.
Yu 1995: 61).
China’s nationalism impelled the colony to produce more defence films.
In 1937 and 1938, the Guomindang chief-in-charge from the central film
censorship board on the mainland, Xu Hao, visited Hong Kong several
times to inspect defence film production (Liang 1938). Subsequently, he
set up a branch of the Central Government Censorship Board in Hong
Kong to ensure the ideological content of local film production. After left-
wing film-makers began arriving in Hong Kong in late 1937, they also
launched an anti-Japanese defence film movement. Following the main-
land, Hong Kong defence films show the significance of Chinese nation-
hood by presenting the mainland – its place and its people – as the central
theme of Hong Kong films.
For instance, At This Crucial Moment (1937) depicts a group of main-
land university students joining in the anti-Japanese movement; Xiao
Guangdong / Little Guangdong (1940) is a story of how a Cantonese guer-
rilla fought against the Japanese; Xiao laohu / Little Tiger (1941) deals
with the story of a mainland peasant who fights against the Japanese;
Minzu de housheng / Roar of the People (1941) presents a story about
working-class labourers challenging ‘treasonous businessmen’ in Hong
Kong; Liuwang zhi ge / Song of the Exile (1941) depicts a story of a main-
land dance troupe’s exile after the loss of their home towns to the Japan-
ese; Guonan caizhu / The Tycoon Traitor (1941) portrays a businessman
who helps the foreign enemy and is put to death by the people. These
locally produced defence films were perceived as dramatising the trans-
ition from local and provincial cultural identity to Chinese national iden-
tity. A film critic Song Wanli (1938) wrote in Yi Lin (no.35, 1 August
1938):

After a year of the anti-Japanese defence movement, we are very

happy to see so many (Hong Kong) national defence films permeated
with ‘Cantonese spirit’. This ‘Cantonese spirit’ spread to the whole
nation, and become ‘Chinese national spirit’ with a persistent will as
the sustainable shield. This national spirit can smash the fantasy of the
rivals’ strategies for the war. It can also enliven the courage of our
nationals. All these films, like the rifles of soldiers at the frontier, and
the brushes of the literati, are able to give the enemies a fatal blow.

After the war, China’s film culture remained the dominant force in Hong
Kong. The idea of Chinese nationhood was strengthened by the main-
land’s perspective. Shanghai film culture had already been implanted in
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 17
Hong Kong to the extent that Hong Kong also became a centre for Man-
darin film production. More and more Shanghai film-makers arrived in
Hong Kong between 1946 and 1949, establishing the foundations for Man-
darin film production. The Mandarin film industry was dominated by a
number of big companies, Da Zhonghua, Yonghua, and Changcheng, and
stories of China were popular, including narratives depicting national poli-
tics between the Guomindang and the Communist Party, China under
Japanese occupation, film adaptations of classical literature and popular
novels, Shanghai urban lifestyles and Northern country areas. Stephen
Teo (1994: 17) comments on these films as follows:

In the eyes of the Mandarin directors, Hong Kong might as well not
have existed. The Hong Kong depicted in their films was an abstract,
cardboard city. In essence, the Shanghai emigres were making ‘Shang-
hai’ films – films set in that city or its environs with Hong Kong loca-
tions dressed up as its streets and quarters. Characters behaved like
typical Shanghai residents, their dialogue laced with Shanghai-isms.
The styles, themes and content of Hong Kong’s Mandarin films
evoked the classics of Shanghai cinema of the 30s. But by shying away
from realist depictions of Hong Kong society and setting their stories
in Shanghai and other Chinese cities of the north, these directors
betrayed their northern backgrounds and expressed their unfamiliarity
with Hong Kong.

Obviously, Hong Kong had yet to become a ‘place’ of historical action and
significance to these Shanghai Mandarin film-makers.
Mandarin cinema had bigger budgets, better technology and stronger
teams of film-makers. It also embraced narratives and themes different
from the mass-produced Cantonese opera and martial arts films in the
Cantonese film industry. It was commonly acknowledged that the Man-
darin audience was generally the white-collar class, the modernised urban
population, who preferred Hollywood and Shanghai films. By contrast, the
Cantonese film audience was comprised mainly of the working classes
from a rural background, who were likely to be superstitious followers of
Buddhism and Taoism, and with little or no formal education. Ian Jarvie
(1977: 86) outlined the general difference between Cantonese and Man-
darin films in the 1950s and 1960s.

Cantonese Mandarin
cheap expensive
simple arty
unpretentious prestigious
folk roots urban roots
southern northern
energetic stiff
18 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
Jarvie’s schematic grid may not be entirely accurate as it leaves out some
important features of Cantonese films, such as the social realist dramas of
the 1950s and the popular qingchun (youth) genre of the 1960s. Both
genres were neither artistically ‘simple’ nor based on folk roots. Neverthe-
less, his formula provides a general outline of the differences between
Cantonese and Mandarin films.
From the 1930s to the 1950s the Shanghai left-wing film-makers were
actively involved in Cantonese film production. A year after its establish-
ment by mainland left-wing film-makers in 1948, the Nanguo Production
Company produced a classical Cantonese film Zhujiang lei / Tragedy on
the Pearl River. This film was praised as a ‘breakthrough in Cantonese
film’ in terms of cinematic aesthetic style (E. Gu 1979: 88). The film resem-
bles Shanghai left-wing films of the 1930s – adopting the theme of class
conflict, from the proletariat’s point of view in social realist style. The film
depicts the hardship of life for Cantonese peasants under the landlords
and the ruling Guomindang government. Several years later, the leading
actor and Hong Kong Cantonese film star, Zhang Ying, recalled:

This joint effort by Northern and Southern Chinese film-makers was a

thoroughly researched, highly professional production which paid
close attention to details. It cost HK$600,000, took over a year to
make and, on its release, created a sensation with both Hong Kong
and mainland audiences. The critics acclaimed it as a ‘Cantonese mas-
terpiece’ marking the ‘beginning of a new era of intelligent and mean-
ingful realistic films’ to ‘pave the way for the new Cantonese cinema’.
(E. Gu 1979: 88)

Presenting class differences from the perspective of the proletarian class in

social realist style developed into a convention in Cantonese melodrama in
the 1950s. The 1980s local film critics regarded the convention as ‘a tradi-
tion of Cantonese cinema’ (W.M. Luo 1981; Jiao 1987: 65), for instance, in
their critical reviews of Allen Fong’s Fuzi qing / Father and Son (1981). In
his study of Shanghai left-wing films of the 1930s and 1940s, Lau Shing-
hon (1991: 177) listed five common narrative subjects: 1) anti-imperialism;
2) social problems of unemployment, shortage of housing, and class strug-
gles between peasants and landlords, workers and capitalists; 3) anti-
Westernisation based on a comparison between the moral purity of rural
areas and the moral corruption and materialism of the city; 4) anti-
feudalism and the promotion of women’s liberation; and 5) the portrayal
of family change to reveal social problems within the nation. Apart from
the theme of anti-imperialism, the other four topics were common themes
in the 1950s Cantonese melodrama, for instance, Li Tie’s Weilou chunxiao /
In the Face of Demolition (1953), Wu Hui’s Jia / Family (1953), Li Chen-
feng’s Chun / Spring (1953), Tian chang di jiu / Everlasting Love (1955),
Chen Wen’s Qiang / The Wall (1956), Shouzu qingshen / Brothers (1956),
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 19
Lu Dun’s Shihao fengbo / Typhoon Signal No.10 (1959), and Li Tie’s
Huoku youlan / Orchid in the Fire (1960).
If the 1920s popular genres of traditional costume and martial arts were
transplanted from Shanghai to Hong Kong in the 1930s, then the left-wing
social realism and class consciousness of Shanghai cinema in the 1930s and
1940s were also subsequently transplanted to the Cantonese film industry
in the 1950s. The result is that Hong Kong films in the first half of the
century presented an image of Chinese nationhood: as overlapping
national political, traditional ethnic and regional Cantonese identities, all
in opposition to Hollywood films in Hong Kong.

Conceptualising Hong Kong films as national art

Just as the Hong Kong film industry was dominated by concerns prevalent
on the mainland, Hong Kong films have likewise been evaluated from the
perspective of China. As with traditional Chinese literary criticism, the
idea of film as a means of social education was popular among Chinese
cultural critics. Discourse in Chinese literary and art criticism has always
been influenced by the traditional philosophy of wen yi zai dao (the func-
tion of literature is to convey the tao). As early as 1924, the leading
Chinese-language newspaper Huazi Ribao (Chinese Daily) in the British
colony, ran a weekly column discussing the social function of film (M.W.
Yu 1985: 88). The discussion addressed issues such as how film as a mass
educational tool could best be used to strengthen the Chinese nation. In
1926, two film journals Yinguang (Silver Screen) and Yinmu (Screen) were
also involved in the debates about using film as a social educational tool
(M.W. Yu 1996: 139–40, 166–7).
The idea of film functioning as a tool of social education was developed
as a means of political education under the influence of the two Chinese
political parties in the 1930s. Political ideology consequently dominated film
criticism in both Shanghai and Hong Kong. The Guomindang promoted
Confucian philosophy as part of national culture and condemned the ideas
of Buddhism and Taoism expressed in films. Deeply objecting to Hollywood
films, the Guomindang believed that they distracted the Chinese people
from participation in Chinese nation-building activities. They also exhorted
Chinese film-makers not to follow the Hollywood film as a model, because,
in the words of Chen Lifu, Minister for Education and the Chairman of the
Chinese Central Film Censorship Board, ‘there was a huge gap between the
two societies in social, cultural, and economic aspects’ (L. Chen 1992: 245).
In his speech of ‘Zhongguo dianying shiye de xin luxian’ (New Chinese Film
Policy) in 1934, Chen Lifu stated that the Chinese film industry should
participate in nation-building programmes by ‘promoting national spirit’,
‘encouraging the construction of a modern Chinese nation’, ‘imbuing the
masses with scientific knowledge’, ‘developing revolutionary spirit’ and
‘building up a national morality’ (L. Chen 1992: 244–55).
20 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56
Both the national government and, on the whole, Hong Kong film-
makers regarded Hong Kong cinema as part of the Chinese national film
industry; as a result, there was constant ‘interference’ by the government
in the criticism and evaluation of Hong Kong films. The Guomindang’s
film policy for a national culture was consistently used as critical theory in
Hong Kong film criticism. In the period between 1935 and 1938, a number
of campaigns against ‘feudalism’ and ‘superstition’ in Chinese films and
against the imitation of Hollywood films were launched by mainland Guo-
mindang supporters in conjunction with local educational and Christian
religious groups (Yi Lin no.33, 1 July 1938). In 1940, the Guomindang
government established a branch of the Chinese Education Film Associ-
ation in Hong Kong, ‘for the purpose of improving Southern China film-
makers’ attitudes and understanding about film, and the content of their
films’ (Yi Lin no.68, 16 February 1940). Although these campaigns and
‘supervision’ did not change the nature of the commercial film industry in
Hong Kong, the notions of ‘meaningful film-making’, ‘reflecting current
national spirit’ and ‘strengthening the Chinese nation’ did become major
critical concepts in Hong Kong film criticism.
Like their Guomindang counterparts, the Communists and left-wing
film critics also regarded Hong Kong as part of Chinese national cinema.
This was well demonstrated in their promotion of the defence film move-
ment in Hong Kong. The leading left-wing film-maker Cai Chusheng
wrote in Hong Kong in 1937:

We could not help feeling disappointed that the most effective tool –
film – could not progress along with our nation’s liberation movement,
calling (our) people to participate militarily and ethically in the cam-
paign. In order to achieve our long-term target of resisting the Japan-
ese invasion, and to liberate our four hundred million people in China,
we should by no means allow these (Hong Kong) films to distract from
the current situation of our anti-Japanese campaign and our future.
Let’s make great efforts to reshape (Hong Kong) cinema.
(Quoted in W.Y. Wang 1999: 116)

A year later, a local film critic Song Wanli (1938) wrote in Yi Lin:

‘Chinese Hollywood’ has moved to Hong Kong during the era of the
Japanese occupation of Shanghai. Needless to say, Hong Kong cinema
has now taken the honour of Chinese art. A reader can discern that
the low-taste scripts have been transformed from the previous stereo-
types based on opera stories, to far more profound narratives of the
reality of Chinese society. In these films, one can see the awakening of
ordinary Chinese civilians and the courage of our soldiers. Even
romantic melodrama is no longer full of intimate scenes, but is a
romance with ‘defence’ spirit, a love between a hero [anti-Japanese
 Hong Kong Cinema 1913–56 21
hero] and a beauty. As for the anti-Japanese sentiments and patriotic
spirit, these films have also provided the audience with an unexpected
excitement and aesthetic enjoyment. Oh! Great Southern Chinese
cinema, you have really taken responsibility for our nation.

After the war, mainland film critics remained active in Hong Kong. In
1948, film journals and film reviews were published and organised by the
Communists and left-wing organisations. Lin Nien-tung (1985: 108)
describes this kind of film criticism as ‘analysing the film industry from the
perspective of political ideology (Marxism)’, and as a ‘fresh approach to
Hollywood, Shanghai and Hong Kong films’. The critics’ powerful com-
ments were perhaps the most typical in Hong Kong film criticism of the
time. Newspaper columns such as Qiren yingping (Seven People’s Film
Review), including articles written by Ye Yiqun, Zhou Gangming, Meng
Chao, Qu Baiyin and Hong Di were under Xia Yan’s editorship, and ‘Can-
tonese film review’, including Mai Dafei and Lu Yu under Chen Canyun’s
editorship, also maintained the same ‘line’. One hundred and sixty-four
Cantonese film-makers published their manifesto of 1949 to clear up ‘feu-
dalism’ and ‘superstition’ in Cantonese films under the influence of the
left-wing and Communist film criticism in Hong Kong. In the 1950s, Can-
tonese melodrama inherited and developed the 1930s Shanghai left-wing
film – a style of social realism that depicts social injustice and class differ-
ences from the perspective of the working class. As Cai Chusheng advised
in his well-known essay, ‘Guanyu Yueyu dianying’ (‘About Cantonese
Cinema’), on the eve of the establishment of the People’s Republic of
China on 28 January 1949:

When a great change is happening in the vast land of China, to greet

the new birth of our ancient nation – our motherland, I expect that the
Cantonese film-makers will pull themselves together, to catch up
with this new age by self-study and make a good example in the film
industry.

It is apparent that the triangular relationship between the British

coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong in the first half of the
century had a profound influence on the early development of Hong Kong
cinema. The British colonial dual system and mainland nationalism
encouraged Hong Kong cinema to regard itself, de facto, as part of
Chinese national cinema. In the following chapter, I will argue that an
equally profound effect on Hong Kong cinema occurred after China
closed its doors to Hong Kong and, furthermore, after the British colonial
government modified its dualistic policy towards its colony.
2 Hong Kong cinema as
Chinese diasporic cinema
1956–79

The triangular relationship between Britain, China and Hong Kong

entered a new era after 1950. As Communist control of the mainland
swelled the population of Hong Kong between 1949 and 1950, shortages
of water, accommodation and employment became serious problems.
As a result, and reversing its dualistic policy and commitment to non-
interference, Hong Kong demanded the British colonial government take
action. From the mid-1950s, the government began to introduce a number
of economic policies to encourage foreign investment, and to promote
Hong Kong’s trade with the West. Meanwhile, China entered a new stage
of internal political struggle. In 1956–7, the anti-Rightist campaign was
under way and further isolated China from the outside world. Separated
from the mainland, furthermore, with increasing business connections
overseas, the colony developed and strengthened its cultural relationships
with the overseas Chinese population. Consequently, Hong Kong cinema
shifted from being part of Chinese national cinema in the first half of the
century, to functioning as Chinese diasporic cinema from the mid-1950s.
The claim that Hong Kong cinema was a diasporic cinema raises a
number of questions. In what ways should the Chinese populace in Hong
Kong itself be understood as part of the diaspora, given that Chinese
culture was both native and dominant in the colony? What caused a dias-
poric cinema to be developed in a society that was not itself diasporic?
How did film production and film markets develop from a diversity of
dialects and regional cultures in Hong Kong, Taiwan and the Malay Penin-
sula, to a centralised and identifiable diasporic film industry in Hong
Kong, and a relatively unified Chinese diasporic film market across the
colony, Taiwan, South-East Asia and Chinese communities in the West?
In what ways was diasporic consciousness expressed in Hong Kong films
and local film criticism?
This chapter advances two arguments that involve the overlapping of
two sets of triangular relationships – one between Britain, China and
Hong Kong, and another diasporic one between motherland (China), host
country (the British colony) and self (Chinese migrants and refugees). The
first argument deals with Hong Kong’s changing position in the triangular
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 23
relationship between Britain, China and Hong Kong. After China closed
its doors to the British colony, and with the colonial government’s encour-
agement of the development of trading relations with the West, Hong
Kong began to develop a different perspective on China. From the mid-
1950s, the British colony shifted from identifying itself with the mainland
as part of the Chinese national community, to distinguishing itself as
Chinese outside the mainland.
The second argument deals with the diasporic triangular relationship.
Hong Kong’s construction of a new cultural identity was financially sup-
ported by members of the Chinese diaspora, especially those from South-
East Asia. Due to political and cultural instability in their host countries,
the South-East Asian Chinese were attracted by the British legal system
and the fast growing economy in Hong Kong. Supported by the South-
East Asian Chinese in film distribution and exhibition in their host coun-
tries, their strong financial position allowed them to take the dominant
role in Hong Kong film production after the mid-1950s. The financial input
from South-East Asia strengthened the Hong Kong film industry after the
latter lost the mainland market in the early 1950s. As a result, the South-
East Asian market wielded more influence over the Hong Kong film
industry than did Hong Kong’s domestic market. Since overseas markets
were the major financial resource for the industry, and as it was essential
to produce films that were shared by as many Chinese communities
outside the mainland as possible, a diasporic consciousness in the triangu-
lar relationship between motherland, host country and the territory was
expressed in Hong Kong cinema.
The first section of this chapter deals with the politics and culture of
Hong Kong society from 1956–79. It focuses on ‘the diasporic phenome-
non’ of Hong Kong. With reference to the production-centred industry
and the exhibition-led film market, the second section discusses how
Chinese film production and markets outside the mainland were unified as
a singular diasporic film industry and market by the South-East Asian
Chinese, by mainland migrant film-makers and by indigenous film-makers
in Hong Kong and Taiwan. The third section discusses the diasporic con-
sciousness of the triangular relationship between the host countries,
motherland and self as expressed in Hong Kong film texts. The fourth
section examines a diverse range of film criticism in Hong Kong, demon-
strating a shift from a critical approach based predominantly on Chinese
nationalism, to approaches of various Western and Chinese film theories.
The last section in this chapter outlines a number of factors that brought
about the erosion of the diasporic cinema. This chapter therefore con-
cludes the first part of the book: a historical examination of Hong Kong
cinema in Higson’s four approaches to national cinema.
24 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79
The dilemma of Hong Kong as a diasporic community
After Britain and China abolished their policies of freedom of movement
between the colony and the mainland in 1950, the traditional way of
life between Hong Kong and the mainland was disrupted. Chinese
nationals could no longer earn their living in the colony or visit their
families on the mainland as conveniently as before. As thousands of
mainland Chinese migrated to the colony, Hong Kong’s population grew
from 1.6 million in 1946 to 2.36 million in 1950 and 2.5 million in 1956
(Young 1994: 131). Although the Chinese government continued to recog-
nise the Chinese in the colony as Chinese citizens, the establishment of the
Chinese border in Shenzhen between the colony and the mainland had a
great impact on the mainland Chinese living in the colony. Their
experience bore many resemblances to other diasporic communities in the
world.
The term ‘diaspora’ is not commonly used to describe the mainland
Chinese in Hong Kong, perhaps because the colony cannot be perceived
as a ‘foreign’ territory to China; at the same time as it is viewed as a
‘foreign’ territory to the West. On the other hand, the mainland Chinese
refugees and migrants in Hong Kong shared cultural characteristics of
other diasporic communities. For instance, they expressed their nostalgia
for China, perceived themselves as an exile community in Hong Kong, and
retained their regional cultural distinctions. Local cultural critic Ng Ho
(1990: 31) also battles for an ‘accurate’ word when describing mainland
Chinese in Hong Kong:

In the years after 1949, many Chinese nationals fled south to take
refuge in the British colony of Hong Kong. Does this amount to exile?
(Left-leaning commentators or Communist sympathizers have defined
this exodus as ‘going south’.) I do not propose to find a political
significance in this journey south. Besides, there is no one word or sen-
tence which can do justice to the economic misery, pain and suffering
which was the lot of those who took the journey . . . except perhaps to
sigh at the thought of exile, turbulent times, 1949.

The mainland Chinese that Ng Ho refers to ‘formed 40% of the [Hong

Kong] population’.
The question of the extent to which the mainland Chinese in Hong
Kong during this period should be perceived as members of a diaspora is
no less complicated than the term ‘diaspora’ itself. On the one hand, Hong
Kong was a society predominantly Chinese, and it had always been
regarded by the Chinese as part of the motherland but ‘occupied’ by the
British. In this sense, the mainland Chinese in Hong Kong would not be
considered as migrants who had left their motherland for a territory that
was not their own. On the other hand, the increased use of the term ‘dias-
pora’ to refer to a wide range of communities, and more importantly, to
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 25
describe the experience of exile, nostalgia for the motherland and cultural
alienation in host territories, encourages us to use the term to describe the
experiences of the mainland Chinese in the colony during this period. In a
similar spirit, the preface to the first issue of Diaspora defines the term
thus:

We use ‘diaspora’ provisionally to indicate our belief that the term

that once described Jewish, Greek, and Armenian dispersion now
shares meanings with a larger semantic domain that includes words
like immigrant, expatriate, refugee, guest-worker, exile community,
overseas community, ethnic community. This is the vocabulary of
transnationalism, and any of these terms can usefully be considered
under more than one of its rubrics.
(Tololyan 1991: 4–5)

Another definition of the term comes from SPAN (Mishra 1992/1993: 1):

In order to help the editors of the Oxford English Dictionary in their

task of keeping the English language up-to-date, we provide for their
convenience the following additional entry:

1 relatively homogenous, displaced communities brought to serve

the Empire co-existing with indigenous/other races with markedly
ambivalent and contradictory relationship with the Motherland(s).
Hence the Indian diasporas of South Africa, Fiji, Mauritius,
Guyana, Trinidad, Surinam, Malaysia; the Chinese diasporas of
Malaysia, Indonesia. Linked to high classical Capitalism.
2 Emerging new diasporas based on free migration and linked to
late capitalism: post-war South Asian, Chinese, Arab, Korean
communities in Britain, Europe, America, Canada, Australasia.
3 any group of migrants that sees itself on the periphery of power,
or excluded from sharing power.

Notice that Mishra’s use of the term ‘diaspora’ excludes European

communities anywhere.
The term ‘diaspora’ is not necessarily used then to refer to any particu-
lar ethnic or racial groups. Instead, it now denotes a particular kind of
experience, feelings and consciousness shared by groups of people who
feel exiled from their homeland, conscious of the space between ‘here’ and
‘there’, between their resident society in their host territory, and their
homeland of origin. William Safran (1991: 83–4) emphasizes the following
characteristics of members of diasporas:

1) they, or their ancestors, have been dispersed from a specific original

‘center’ to two or more ‘peripheral,’ or foreign, regions; 2) they retain
26 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79
a collective memory, vision, or myth about their original homeland –
its physical location, history, and achievements; 3) they believe that
they are not – and perhaps cannot be – fully accepted by their host
society and therefore feel partly alienated and insulated from it; 4)
they regard their ancestral homeland as their true, ideal home and as
the place to which they or their descendants would (or should) eventu-
ally return – when conditions are appropriate; 5) they believe that
they should, collectively, be committed to the maintenance or restora-
tion of their original homeland and to its safety and prosperity; and 6)
they continue to relate, personally or vicariously, to that homeland in
one way or another, and their ethnocommunal consciousness and
solidarity are importantly defined by the existence of such a relation-
ship.

To the mainland Chinese, the colony may not appear as much ‘foreign’
as countries in South-East Asia or in the West. But Britain and China’s
imposed sanctions against freedom of movement between the colony and
the mainland brought to the mainland Chinese in Hong Kong a particular
kind of experience of being ‘abandoned’ and living ‘in exile’ from their
homeland. Although they may not have experienced as much cultural
alienation as Chinese in other parts of the world, they certainly felt they
would ‘relate personally or vicariously, to that homeland in one way or
another, and their ethnocommunal consciousness and solidarity are [were]
importantly defined by the existence of such a relationship’ (Safran 1991:
83). From this perspective, Hong Kong can be seen as a host territory to a
diasporic population from China.
Similar to other diasporic communities in their host countries, the main-
land Chinese ‘retained their collective memories about the past’ and
intended to return when the time was appropriate. In his Turbulent
Writings (Luanshi zhi jia) published in 1967, Zhu Zijia writes:

The average Shanghainese who first set foot in Hong Kong harbored
the naive opinion that they could freely return to their beloved city
after three years or five years at most, and resume their businesses.
(Quoted in Ng 1990: 31)

In a description of a well-known Chinese film director Zhu Shilin, Shu Kei

(1983: 42) writes:

Like most of the other film-makers from the north who went to Hong
Kong, Zhu never intended to settle there. When he left Shanghai, he
gave each of his two wives only a short-term living allowance of $500.

These mainland Chinese refugees also retained their own regional cultural
communities in Hong Kong. They formed their own institutions to provide
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 27
social welfare benefits, and to conduct business and cultural activities for
their members (Lau 1983: 132). As they regarded themselves as temporary
residents in Hong Kong, they continued to engage in Chinese national
politics. From the early 1950s to the late 1960s, several violent incidents
were caused by supporters of the Guomindang and the Communists. A
celebration of the 1911 Revolution on 10 October 1956 turned into a
3-day-long violent dispute attacking Communist businesses, offices and
schools in Hong Kong and causing the death of fifty-nine people, injuring
500, and causing US$1 million property damage (Lane 1990: 73). Influ-
enced by China’s Cultural Revolution of 1967, the 18-month dispute
headed by the left-wing unionists during 1967–8 resulted in the death of
fifty-one, the injury of 800, the arrest of 5,000 and millions of US dollars’
damage in property and trade.
Culturally, the mainland Chinese continued to perceive themselves as a
group distinct from the local Hong Kong Chinese. Lo Kwai-cheung (1990:
22) describes the mainland writers in Hong Kong in the 1950s and 1960s as
follows:

These immigrant writers still had a strong tendency to look towards

the Mainland. They were more attached to remembered experience
and nostalgic time, and remained uncomprehending of the new
surrounding reality. . . . They had an absolute confidence in the superi-
ority of a single centralised culture and dismissed flatly this [Hong
Kong] peripheral culture as philistine.

In addition, the colonial government also recognised the cultural and lin-
guistic diversity of the Chinese in the colony. Between the 1950s and the
early 1960s, the colonial Rediffusion radio and television company pro-
duced programmes in Shanghainese, Minnan, Hakka and Mandarin for
the mainland refugees.
However, there was a difference between the mainland refugees in
Hong Kong and other diaspora communities. Unlike members of diaspora
in other host countries where cultural differences from local communities
prevail for long periods, a lack of a distinct Hong Kong cultural identity
allowed the mainland migrants to share the colony with local residents in
many ways, for instance, through industrial manufacture, cultural produc-
tion, business, trade, education and community services. There is little
evidence to suggest that the mainland migrants were disadvantaged by the
local community in areas of political, economic, cultural or social welfare.
At the same time, the mainland Chinese also made efforts to assimilate
into the local community.
Other members of the Chinese diaspora migrated to Hong Kong as
their various positions in their host countries became unstable. The rise of
nationalism in South-East Asia after the Second World War caused the
indigenous communities to mount considerable resistance to the Chinese
28 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79
diaspora (Purcell 1965: 329–49, 471–91). Fearing that Communism and
Chinese nationalism would spread over South-East Asia, the indigenous
governments tightened their policies towards Chinese immigration,
Chinese schools, the Chinese press and Chinese cultural products. In Thai-
land, the government continued to impose restraints on Chinese education
and newspapers from the 1940s. In Malaysia, debates on the rights of cit-
izenship of Malays, Chinese and Indians in the early 1950s further compli-
cated the relationship between the local Chinese community and the
indigenous people. Chinese cultural production was not encouraged by the
indigenous Malay government. The Indonesian government likewise sup-
pressed Chinese culture and community activities after gaining its sover-
eignty from the Dutch coloniser in 1949 (Mackie 1976: 77–138). Political
instability and ethnic conflicts in South-East Asia restrained Chinese cul-
tural production and impelled Chinese cultural workers to seek alternative
homes.
Hong Kong provided the best environment in the region for the
Chinese diaspora. It was a Chinese society, but with a British colonial
government whose political culture and legal system were nevertheless
familiar. Hong Kong’s geographic location enabled the South-East Asian
Chinese who were drawn to the colony to be seen as distancing themselves
from Chinese national politics in Taiwan and the mainland. This allayed
the suspicion of the governments in their host countries. The colony’s eco-
nomic policies of laissez-faire and low taxation further strengthened the
confidence of the Chinese diaspora in Hong Kong. Moreover, a lack of a
distinct Hong Kong cultural identity allowed the South-East Asian
Chinese easy access and integration into Hong Kong society.
Hong Kong was not a typically diasporic society in the sense that the
British colony was not a typical foreign territory to the mainland Chinese.
Nor were the mainland Chinese the only group of residents in the colony,
though they accounted for about 40 per cent of Hong Kong’s population.
There were also another 50 per cent local Chinese and overseas Chinese
who came to Hong Kong from South-East Asia, America and Australia
(D.L. Zheng 1992: 34, 71–2). However, like the mainland Chinese in Hong
Kong, this group also identified China as their motherland. Hence, China’s
closed door policy gave the local and overseas Chinese a feeling shared
with the mainland Chinese in the colony – the loss of the motherland. This
sentiment enabled the mainland refugees and migrants, Hong Kong
Chinese and the Chinese diaspora from South-East Asia to participate
together in the construction of a new Chinese cultural identity that was
different from that on the Communist mainland.

Unifying a diasporic film industry and market

Restrictions on freedom of movement between the colony and the main-
land had a considerable impact on the Hong Kong film industry, and
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 29
indeed on Chinese national cinema. The fact that the Hong Kong film
industry lost the mainland market meant that the value of the South-East
Asian market increased. As the South-East Asian market was controlled
traditionally by local Chinese, they became the most influential group in
the Hong Kong film industry. After 1949, the South-East Asian Chinese
no longer obtained films from Shanghai, which forced them to rely on the
Hong Kong film industry for products. However, as market demands
increased, they became directly involved with Hong Kong film production.
As a consequence, the South-East Asian Chinese began to replace the
mainland influence from the mid-1950s.
From the mid-1950s, the Hong Kong film industry was organised as a
diasporic Chinese cinema. Finance for film productions was shared and
films were artistically created and consumed by the Chinese in Hong
Kong, South-East Asia, Taiwan, as well as in the rest of the world. The
industry was controlled by an oligarchy of members of the Chinese dias-
pora in a centralised studio system dominated by family ownership. The
industry showed few signs of engaging in a relationship with any national
government or any particular geopolitical group of Chinese. The diasporic
film industry was commercially oriented, in contrast to the earlier period
when the industry was constantly shaped by China’s national politics. Dif-
ferences in ownership, production mode, film market and degrees of the
involvement with national politics distinguished the character of the Hong
Kong film industry from the mid-1950s.
According to my analysis, the period of the mid-1950s signalled the
beginning of diasporic cinema. At this juncture, the South-East Asian
Chinese took charge of film production in Hong Kong. Three events
between 1955 and 1957 heralded the change. First, the International Film
Distribution Agency, owned by the Malay Chinese Loke family, pur-
chased Yonghua – the largest studio of the time in Hong Kong, founded
by Zhejiang-Shanghai capitalist, Li Zuyong, in 1948. The agency was set
up in Hong Kong by the family’s Cathay Organisation and was responsible
for supplying Chinese films to the largest exhibition chain in the Malay
Peninsula – Cathay Exhibition. The Loke family business specialised in
hotel management and the entertainment business. Apart from managing
about a hundred cinema theatres in the Cathay exhibition chain, the
family also owned a local film studio, Cathay-Keris, used for the produc-
tion of Malay films. After Yonghua transferred to Cathay, the former was
reorganised into the Motion Picture and General Investment Company
Ltd (MP&GI) in 1956.
The second event heralding the change was that Shaw Brothers from
Singapore announced the building of their own film studio in Hong Kong,
a studio that later was to become the largest self-contained film manufac-
turing complex in Asia. As mentioned in Chapter 1, the Shaw (Shao)
family was one of the pioneers of films in Shanghai. The eldest brother,
Shao Zuiweng, had founded the Tianyi film studio in 1925. He sent his two
30 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79
younger brothers, the third Runme Shaw (Shao Renmei) and the youngest
Run Run Shaw (Shao Yifu), to Singapore in 1928 to exhibit their films. As
the Cantonese film market was mainly in the south, Shao Zuiweng then
sent his second brother Shao Cunren to Hong Kong to establish the
Nanyang studio for Cantonese film production (Cheng 1966: 374–5). On
the eve of the Japanese occupation of Shanghai, Shao Zuiweng transferred
Tianyi to Hong Kong and amalgamated it with Tianyi’s branch studio,
Nanyang. Around the same time, the two younger brothers in Singapore
began to develop their business in film distribution and exhibition. Their
film products were mainly supplied by Hollywood and Hong Kong, espe-
cially from their family studio Nanyang. By the 1950s, Shaw Brothers exhi-
bition chain had expanded in South-East Asia and ranked second only to
Cathay. When the market demanded more and better products than
Nanyang was able to produce, Run Run Shaw came to Hong Kong in 1957
to establish his Shaw Brothers Film Studio, leaving their exhibition busi-
ness in the care of his two elder brothers, Shao Cunren in Hong Kong and
Runme Shaw in Singapore.
Investment in and influence on Hong Kong film production by Cathay
and Shaw Brothers was on a large scale. By comparison, the third event
marking the change to diasporic cinema was relatively small, but equally
important to the Hong Kong film industry. In 1955, two years before Cathay
bought Yonghua and Run Run Shaw came to Hong Kong, Guangyi, the
Cantonese film distribution and exhibition company based in Singapore, had
already set up a production company in Hong Kong. Guangyi had been
owned by the He brothers, a Chinese family, in Singapore since 1937 (Lin
and Yeung 1978: 57). The family also owned a few small studios in the
Malay Peninsula for Cantonese films. From 1955 to 1968, Guangyi was one
of the four major Cantonese film production companies in Hong Kong
along with Zhonglian, and the other two – Xinlian, invested in by ‘a group
of overseas Chinese businessmen’, and Huaqiao, owned by ‘a prominent
businessman with interests in Hong Kong and Macao’.
The penetration of South-East Asian Chinese capital into film produc-
tion caused four major changes. First, it ended the traditional structure of
the relationship between Chinese national cinema and overseas: formerly
the Shanghai film-makers had produced the films, and the overseas
Chinese, in particular the South-East Asian Chinese, had dominated the
areas of distribution and exhibition. The Communist control of the main-
land in 1949 impacted heavily on the traditional structure, and the move of
South-East Asian capital into Hong Kong film production eventually
generated two Chinese cinemas – one on and one off the mainland. The
traditional structure, which developed in the late 1920s, was thus replaced
by a vertical integration of the South-East Asian Chinese into the film pro-
duction area. The move from South-East Asia’s role in distribution and
exhibition to involvement in Hong Kong film production began an era of
Chinese diasporic cinema.
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 31
Second, a distinct diasporic film market developed. Traditionally, over-
seas Chinese markets were regarded as secondary to the mainland market
of South China. But the loss of the mainland market, and the financial
input from the South-East Asian region changed this situation. Through
the distribution of Hong Kong films to South-East Asia, Taiwan and to
Chinese communities in other parts of the world, a diasporic Chinese film
market was developed, strengthened, unified and set apart from the main-
land market. Two distinct centres of Chinese culture were thereby created.
Third, the penetration of the South-East Asian Chinese into Hong
Kong film production had a major impact on the Hong Kong film industry.
It forcefully ended the remaining influence of Chinese national politics on
the industry, driving independent Shanghai Mandarin film producers to
Taiwan. This included, for instance, Zhang Shangkun’s Xinhua and Pu
Wanchang’s Taishan (Law 1995b: 184). It also pressured left-wing film
producers to compete with more glamorous and commercial products. At
the same time, it played a major role in marginalising the Cantonese film
industry.
Finally, although Cathay and Shaw Brothers continued their investment
in Cantonese film production until 1964 and 1966 respectively (Weng 1978:
50–2), their vigorous investment in and promotion of Mandarin films mar-
ginalised regional Cantonese film production in Hong Kong and Minnan
film production in Taiwan. Their ‘creation’ of the Mandarin film as a ‘stan-
dard’ format for Chinese diasporic cinema fulfilled two practical aims.
First, it promoted Chinese diasporic cinema as modern and as authentic as
Shanghai films. It thus dissociated itself from the dialect films, which were
perceived as ‘backward’, ‘feudal’ and ‘provincial’. It targeted Chinese
communities in Taiwan, Singapore and other places, who adhered to tradi-
tional Confucian values and, at the same time, admired Western lifestyles.
Second, it also avoided a direct conflict with the already established
popular Cantonese films. The promotion of Mandarin films for inter-
national awards by Cathay and Shaw Brothers, at the Asian Film Festival,
for example, reinforced the myth that the Mandarin film was a prestigious
and legitimate ‘national’ art, whereas dialect films were parochial trash.
Under the pressure from Cathay and Shaw Brothers’ big budget films,
Cantonese film production gradually moved away from its roots in
regional folk culture and family melodramas observed from the perspect-
ive of the working class (Law 1995b: 192). From the mid-1960s, the Can-
tonese film industry began to follow Mandarin cinema and to produce
urban styles of romance, suspense and screwball comedy. However, this
‘moving away’ from ‘traditional’ style bridged the gap between Mandarin
and Cantonese films. Similarities in theme and aesthetic styles allowed
Mandarin cinema to displace Cantonese cinema altogether in 1972. This
was further strengthened by the fact that free access to a Cantonese televi-
sion service was available after 1967. Guangyi ceased Cantonese produc-
tion in 1968 and others soon followed.
32 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79
The beginning of this section noted that one of the major features of
diasporic cinema was that the South-East Asian and Taiwanese markets
played a more important role in Hong Kong than they had done in the first
half of the century. Traditionally, the Taiwanese market was shared by
Hollywood, the Japanese and the local Minnan film industries (Lü 1961:
105–7). As the Guomindang government promoted Mandarin as the offi-
cial language, Taiwan became the second largest Mandarin film market
after the mainland. Unable to produce a sufficient number of Mandarin
films from its three state studios, and with its domestic industry mainly
occupied in the 1950s and early 1960s by Minnan production, the Tai-
wanese government relied on Hong Kong for Mandarin films. As the Guo-
mindang government intended to promote the image of the Republic as
the ‘genuine’ China, it showed great interest in supporting Hong Kong
Mandarin film production. In 1956, the Taiwanese government established
various laws and regulations, including low taxation, entitlement to
national financial grants and the Golden Horse national film awards, in
order to encourage Hong Kong Mandarin film production (L. Liang 1997:
152–7).
The Guomindang’s support for Mandarin production encouraged the
two film giants, Cathay and Shaw Brothers, to explore the Taiwanese
market. In 1963 Cathay took a further step, aiming to transfer Mandarin
film production from Hong Kong to Taiwan (H.X. Li 1981: 39). Cathay’s
plan was supported by Taiwan’s largest distribution company, Lianbang,
and a well known Hong Kong director, Li Hanxiang.1 Together, they built
the largest Mandarin film studio, Guolian, in Taiwan. However, this grand
blueprint was affected by the loss of two key figures in an air tragedy in
1964, the owner of Cathay, Loke Wan Tao, and the general manager of
Lianbang. Subsequently, as a result of inadequate financial management
(Jiao 1993: 60–3), Guolian declared itself bankrupt in 1967. Nevertheless,
the example of Guanlian demonstrates how the diasporic film industry
depended on the co-operation of the Chinese themselves to unify produc-
tion mode and market.

Constructing a Chinese cultural identity beyond China

The British and Chinese governments’ sanctions on freedom of movement
between the colony and the mainland produced two distinct Chinese
cinemas in terms of narratives, genres, stars, and more generally, cinematic
Chinese cultural identities. Separation from the mainland allowed Hong
Kong films to be made without China’s political and social influence. As a
result, Hong Kong films no longer reflected the politics and society of
China, but those of Chinese communities beyond China.
As discussed in the previous section, the mode of film production in
Hong Kong had changed from a system led by many middle-sized and
small companies, shaped and affected by national politics, to a commer-
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 33
cially oriented, centralised studio system controlled by a group of family
businesses. However, this change was not the only factor generating differ-
ences in narrative, genre and iconography between films made in Hong
Kong and in China. The mode of production on the mainland also
changed under the Communist government. As film was regarded as a
political and ideological tool for mass education, nationalisation of the film
industry was launched and completed in 1956, and all production, distribu-
tion and exhibition came under state ownership. Workers, peasants and
soldiers replaced the urban populace as the target audience (J. Hu 1995:
76). The national government paid more attention to setting up exhibition
networks in country areas than to producing the kind of films that encour-
age film viewing in urban areas. By contrast, Hong Kong films were made
mainly for urban consumers. With differences in production modes and
target markets, differences in narrative, genre and representation fol-
lowed.
While the narratives of China’s films reflected national politics and
government policies, Hong Kong films revealed a diasporic consciousness
in their construction of China’s cultural identity. Both film industries were
involved in the construction of Chinese history, however, the mainland
film industry adhered to the Party’s instruction that revolutionary history
was the only history that should be presented. Historical films centred on
the Communists and their struggles against the Guomindang in the First
Civil War, depicted for example, in Dalang taosha / Waves of the First
Civil War (1966), Hongqi pu / Legend of the Banner (1960); during the
Second Civil War in Hongse niangzi jun / Red Detachment of Women
(1960), Wanshui qianshan / A Thousand Rivers and Mountains (1959); the
anti-Japanese war, as in Jimao xin / The Letter with Feathers (1953), and
Xiaobing Zhangga / Zhangga, a Boy Soldier (1964); and in Dong Cunrui /
Dong Cunrui (1955), Hongri / Red Sun (1963), Nanzheng beizhan / From
Victory to Victory (1952) during the war of liberation.
By contrast, national politics in modern history was almost absent in
Hong Kong films, even compared to Hong Kong films of the earlier
period. Instead, history before China became a modern nation was often
presented in Hong Kong films. Differences between the mainland and
Hong Kong films in selecting materials from the past produced two differ-
ent images of China: a geopolitically defined modern nation on the main-
land, and an ancestor-based or cultural civilisation defined ethnic nation in
Hong Kong. Hong Kong historical films therefore produced a cultural
identity of the Chinese diaspora as imperial descendants different from the
mainland Communists. Moreover, they revealed a diasporic consciousness
of China as their true homeland.
In China, class struggle was the theme of films dealing with daily life.
Chinese film scholar, Hu Jubing (1995: 94), comments in his analysis of
those films that reflected government policies for co-operative trans-
formation of agriculture in the 1950s and 1960s:
34 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79
These films revealed some peasants’ distrust of and hesitation about
co-operatives. They also criticised a few peasants’ desires to be rich
and a number of leaders’ doubtful attitudes towards new policies.
However, these films showed more about rich peasants and unscrupu-
lous merchants’ sabotage of the co-operative commune.

By comparison, Hong Kong films shifted away from themes of ‘exile’ or

‘living a vagrant life’ during the war periods. Cathay (MP&GI) produced a
number of popular films showing a modern Western lifestyle with a focus
on Confucian values. Siqian jin / Our Sister Hedy (1957), Manbo nülang /
Mambo Girl (1957) and Yunü siqing / Her Tender Heart (1959) were three
popular films in the screwball comedy, musical and melodrama genres.
These films present the Western lifestyle of a number of young and
attractive female protagonists, listening to Italian operas, attending or
hosting Western-style birthday parties, engaged in Western swordplay,
tennis, picnicking, and dancing the cha-cha, tango and mambo in Western
dress, and yet foreground the theme of lunli. Our Sister Hedy, which
depicts four sisters with four different personalities, was praised as
‘expressing traditional lunli ethics without relying on the simplicity of
“good” or “bad” characters’ (G.F. Chen 1985: 241–8). Mambo Girl and
Her Tender Heart each portray a young woman in a state of conflict,
choosing between remaining with her adoptive parents or following her
biological mother. Through constructing the ‘immoral’ history of their bio-
logical mothers – one a nightclub songstress ‘flirting’ with male clients, the
other committing adultery – both films reinforce the filial value that ‘one
should pay a debt of gratitude to whoever brought one up’(G.R. Cai 1985:
70). A local film critic, Shu Kei, comments that Mambo Girl constructs an
allegory of Chinese migrants in their relation to China and their adopted
territory, the British colony (Shu 1993: 109). It could equally be argued
that the film expresses a haunting relationship between diaspora and
motherland.
The popular films of Yunchang yanhou / Cinderella and her Little
Angels (1959) and Ye meigui zhi lian / Wild, Wild Rose (1960) are two
further examples of films representing a modern lifestyle and, at the same
time, reinforcing traditional lunli values. Cinderella and her Little Angels
presents a story of a protégée of an orphanage who helps the institution to
overcome financial difficulties by modelling in a fashion parade. The film
gave Lin Dai, twice winner of the best actress award in the Asian Film
Festival in 1964 and 1968, a ‘perfect excuse to change into sets of gorgeous
fashion’ modelled on Western and Asian classical costumes (Law 1993:
113). But, at the end of the film, Lin Dai

. . . returns to an obedient and responsible character. . . . Thus the film

reinforced the Chinese essence by returning to the reality of lunli ethic
and human relations.
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 35
Similarly, Wild, Wild Rose is a narrative about a romance between a
pianist and songstress pictured in a sumptuous Western-style nightclub
with jazz and blues music and dancing. The pianist’s passion for this
songstress of ‘low’ social status impels him to ignore his mother’s advice.
His disrespect for his mother in turn earns him a punishment of life in jail,
poverty and a ruined career.
Displays of Western lifestyle and the reinforcement of traditional
values were also apparent in Cantonese films after the mid-1960s. The pro-
duction of youth films represented one attempt by Cantonese film-makers
to ‘modernise’ Cantonese cinema. Hong Kong film scholar, Cheuk Pak-
tong lists four common features of the youth film genre: poverty versus
wealth, generational conflicts, a rebellious nature and didactic speeches
(Cheuk 1996: 74–5). However, these features were not unique to the Can-
tonese youth film genre, but were commonly incorporated in the 1950s
social realist melodrama, especially the themes of poverty versus wealth,
generational conflicts and didactic speeches. The difference between the
1950s Cantonese melodrama and the youth film genre of the 1960s was
that younger, urban images replaced images of the older generation, the
image of Cantonese refugees. Thus, in addressing the motif of ‘problem
youth’, the 1960s films showed fashion, rock music, sex and violence.
However, here too a return to Confucian lunli was essential. Stephen Teo
(1996a: 18) explains:

The theme of filial piety and the counter theme of the transgression of
the young runs through the sixties. In the beginning, the didactic tradi-
tion of Cantonese cinema ensured that society’s reverence for the old
was treated accordingly in cinema: in other words, the young must be
filial and the unfilial must be punished or condemned as pariahs.
Dependence on family and tradition was part of the natural progres-
sion of growing up. When parents grow old, it is the filial duty of the
children to care for them.

Unlike Hong Kong films in the 1980s, the relationship between Hong
Kong and China was not the major theme. Instead, there were a number
of popular films focused on the relationship between Chinese and the
indigenous people of a host country (M.W. Yu 1992: 124–6). For instance,
Hudie furen / Madame Butterfly (1956) presents the romance between a
Chinese man and a Japanese song-and-dance artiste in Japan, and exam-
ines minzu conflicts and cross-cultural problems. Similarly, Niangre yu
Dada / Niangre and Dada (1956) is about a romance in Malaysia between
a Chinese man and a Malay woman of Chinese origins. Tangshan Asao /
Woman from China (1957) is about a mainland woman who goes to South-
East Asia in search of her husband. Yelin yue / Moon under the Palm
Grove (1957) shows how the Chinese diaspora made an effort to promote
Chinese education in Singapore. Wangfu shanxia / Beneath Mt Wangfu
36 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79
(1957) is a tragedy about a Chinese woman who marries a man who,
unknown to her, is already married in Malaysia. Nanyang Abo / Uncle in
Kuala Lumpur (1958) portrays the hardship of the lives of an old Chinese
man and his daughter in Malaysia, and Guofu xinniang / A Mainland
Bride (1959) depicts the life of a mainland Chinese woman in Malaysia
after the death of her fiancé.
Both Cantonese and Mandarin films developed similar themes of a
diasporic triangular relationship between the host territory, motherland
and self, a fear representing the experience of the Chinese diaspora when
living in a society which was not their own. Directed by Qin Jian, acted by
Cantonese film star, Xie Xian, and produced by Guangyi, Xue ran xiangsi
gu / Blood Stains the Valley of Love (1959) was one of the classical Can-
tonese films of the period combining romance, ghosts and exotic scenery.
The film begins with a Chinese man who falls in love with an indigenous
Malay woman. Their relationship confronts cross-religious and ethnic cul-
tural problems. The man’s mother believes that the Malay woman will cast
a spell on her son, so she sends her son to Hong Kong to get over the
romance. However, in Hong Kong, the man, unable to resist, falls in love
with two women at the same time. His passion and fear lead to a fatal acci-
dent, which he believes was caused by the curse of the Malay woman. He
then returns to Malaysia to take revenge.
The period from the late 1950s to the 1970s saw a rapid development in
Hong Kong film genres. Technology and division of labour in the cen-
tralised studio system enabled film-makers to build the Forbidden City,
classical Chinese courtyards, northern Chinese markets, temples, moun-
tains and forests in studio compounds. Through advanced technology in
lighting, camera and editing, film-makers were able to create special effects
to illustrate the religious significance of Taoism and Buddhism, both essen-
tial to martial arts films. In the late 1950s and early 1960s, colour film and
the wide screen were also brought to Hong Kong. This made Chinese tradi-
tional costume films no less attractive than Hollywood musicals. While few
classical costume and martial arts films were produced on the mainland
between the mid-1950s to the late 1970s, these two Chinese film genres
were the most popular that the Hong Kong film industry offered in the
1960s and 1970s: Mandarin opera films (huangmei xi) and Cantonese
martial arts (wuxia) in the 1960s, and Mandarin martial arts in the 1970s.
The popularity of these two genres showed the willingness of the Chinese
diaspora to maintain their ethnic cultural identity and to demonstrate an
awareness of their distinct identity in their host territories.
The coexistence of Mandarin and Cantonese cinemas in the 1950s and
1960s reflected the lack of a distinct Hong Kong identity. Although both
Mandarin and Cantonese cinemas produced comedies and melodramas,
the two genres utilised different conventions, iconography and recurrent
patterns. For example, Mandarin films tended to focus on Shanghai’s
lifestyle, the middle class and their renqing shigu (sophisticated ways of
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 37
dealing with people), and occasionally dealt with local social injustices
(Law 1985: 12). Cantonese films, especially comedies, on the other hand,
relied heavily on Cantonese idiom, centred on the working class and their
working environments. Most generally, a family theme is a convention of
Cantonese melodrama, whereas middle-class cosmopolitan lifestyles are
common themes in Mandarin melodramas. The Kung Fu film genre was an
icon of Cantonese cinema until the late 1960s when the Mandarin film
industry also produced martial arts films.
Star images are usually perceived as signs that represent a nation.
However, Hong Kong film stars of the 1950s and 1960s, while representing
a different image from the previous images of refugees, still did not project
a specifically Hong Kong cultural identity. From the late 1950s, a new gen-
eration of stars emerged. Most of them were born in China, but grew up
and were educated in Hong Kong. Their gestures, manners, and use of lan-
guage projected in general a Western and urban image. Law Kar (1996:
53) discusses three major types of star image in the 1950s and 1960s.
The new generation star from [the left-wing’s] ‘Great Wall’, such as
Xia Meng, Shi Hui, Chen Sisi, Fu Qi, Le Di, Gao Yuan represented
the rising generation of those Mainland Chinese who had come to
Hong Kong. They were Mandarin speaking; their behaviour and psy-
chology were marked by continental Chinese characteristics, and they
were proud of it. Their films were marked by the legacies of Shanghai
cinema; their terms of reference were the culture of the greater China
and there was a feeling of reticence, caution, indeed even criticism,
when regarding Hong Kong society.

The second group of stars were

. . . the Mandarin stars of the late fifties [from Cathay and Shaw Broth-
ers], such as Ge Lan, You Min, Ye Feng, Lin Cui, Zhong Qing, Chen
Hou, Lin Dai, and Li Mei [who] were more Westernised. Thus, their
films tended to assimilate with Hong Kong society but because they
were Mandarin-speaking and were directed by veterans of the Shang-
hai film industry, they were out of tune with the grassroots level of
Hong Kong society. These were the films of the middle-class.
The third type of new generation star was found in Cantonese cinema.
Law Kar argues that male stars ‘often played second fiddle to female
superstars’ in the period. Female stars
. . . were open, optimistic, smart, and multi-talented. They mixed freely
with the feudalistic-minded upper-class older women and were more
intelligent, more independent and able, possessing of more feelings
and emotions. . . . These women may not be satisfied with the state of
things but they would not go so far as to rebel against family and
society. They were essentially filial and gentle women.
38 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79
No other Hong Kong star can more clearly express diasporic conscious-
ness than Bruce Lee. His three best known films, Jingwu men / Fist of Fury
(1970), Tangshan daxiong / The Big Boss (1971), Menglong guojiang / The
Way of the Dragon (1972) present stories of Chinese who live in places
dominated and controlled by non-Chinese. His ‘hatred’ of these dominant
‘foreign’ groups and his insistence on projecting himself as a ‘real’ Chinese
reflect a diasporic consciousness trapped between the fear of living in a
host country and the need to retain the myth of motherland.

The diversity of local film criticism

In the previous chapter, I argued that Hong Kong films were evaluated
with reference to politics and society in China. However, this critical
approach lost significance after freedom of movement between the main-
land and the colony was restricted. The ideology of national politics as a
critical approach to Hong Kong films became less relevant than in the first
half of the century.
When film criticism in China became part of the state institution after
1956 (J.B. Hu 1995: 124–44), film criticism in Hong Kong, by contrast,
developed greater diversity. The evaluation of films was undertaken by a
range of viewers: pro-Communist, pro-Guomindang and film-makers
themselves. In spite of the various critical approaches of Western and
Chinese film theories, Hong Kong films were categorised either as Chinese
films (together with the mainland and Taiwanese films) when compared to
Hollywood films, or as Yueyu pian (Cantonese films) or Guoyu pian (Man-
darin films). Generally speaking, there were three broad streams of film
criticism, and none of these streams can be regarded as offering critical
evaluations of films in specific relation to Hong Kong society. In part, this
was because Hong Kong had not developed into a distinct community, and
also because Hong Kong films were made for Chinese communities
outside China.
One stream of film criticism was positioned within mainstream popular
culture, where film reviews aimed to promote products as part of publicity
effort. The major studios, such as Cathay, Shaw Brothers, Guangyi,
Guolian and the left-wing film studio, Changcheng, published their own
film magazines. Film reviews of plot, performers, technical competence
and audience feedback were aimed to create interest and attract audi-
ences. These magazines were available in South-East Asia, Taiwan and
Western countries. In the early 1970s, Golden Harvest also adopted a
similar method of film review for publicity purposes. However, by the mid
and late 1970s, newspapers and weekly entertainment magazines replaced
the majority of studio magazines and became the major publishing format
for film reviews.
The second stream was led by the left-wing newspapers. In Chapter 1, I
described how left-wing film criticism during the late 1940s and early 1950s
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 39
had established itself as the main force in local film criticism. However, the
change of the social environment in the 1960s, especially under the impact
of the Cultural Revolution, meant that the approach to critiquing Hong
Kong films shifted gradually from evaluating political themes to evaluating
Chinese cultural philosophy and aesthetics. Retaining its elite intellectual
style, film criticism in left-wing newspapers paid more attention to the
relationship between Chinese films and other forms of Chinese art, opera,
literature and painting (Film Biweekly no.28, 7 February 1980, 34–6).
Under the domination of the previous two streams of film criticism, a
third emerged in the late 1960s, led mainly by a group of locally educated
youth who, in particular, favoured American and European films. By and
large, they tended to ignore Hong Kong films, particularly Mandarin films
from Shaw Brothers (Law 1995a: 316). Most of them had gained their
early film education from a non-commercial newspaper sponsored by an
American organisation as part of the anti-Communist campaign to resist
Communist influence in Hong Kong.2 Established in 1957, The Chinese
Student Weekly (Zhongguo xuesheng zhoubao) formed a communication
channel between Western intellectuals and Chinese youth by publishing
Chinese versions of Western humanism and inviting readers to participate
in various discussions. European art films were also accessible in Hong
Kong through several film clubs. Organised by a group of European film
fanatics in Hong Kong, the First Studio was established in 1962 to show art
films from Europe. Hong Kong tertiary students were frequent attendants.
Following the First Studio, active members such as Law Kar, Ng Ho, Lin
Nien-tung from The Chinese Student Weekly also established their own
organisation, the Tertiary Students Film Association in 1969, and showed
alternative or art films supplied by British, Canadian and American con-
sulates in Hong Kong. This organisation involved a variety of film culture
activities, including art film exhibitions, seminars and publications.
According to Law and Ng, the Phoenix Cine Club was established in 1971
to involve more tertiary students and youth interested in film. Using their
financial resources earned from membership, exhibition, teaching and a
few publications, these clubs functioned as film schools for training film-
makers and critics. From time to time, these clubs engaged in the non-
periodic publication of Chinese translations of Western film theories, in
Cahiers du Cinéma, Screen, Framework, Film Culture and Cinéaste.

The demise of Chinese diasporic cinema

Two major factors contributed to the demise of Chinese diasporic cinema:
a change in the nature of the members of the Chinese diaspora them-
selves, and the rise of local nationalism in the South-East Asian countries.
By the mid-1970s, the generation born after the Second World War
became the major group of film viewers. Their experience differed from
that of their parents’ generation. In general, they enjoyed better living
40 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79
standards, and achieved higher literacy levels, both in Chinese and
English, compared to their parents. Culturally, they were exposed to a
variety of products, including films from Europe, Hollywood and national
films. By growing up in the period of television, they developed cultural
identities resembling the culture of their local communities rather than
that of China. Furthermore, the Cold War period also had an impact on
their perceptions of China, indirectly diminishing their interest in films
presenting a ‘remote’ China.
The rise of local nationalism in South-East Asia constituted the other
significant factor in the demise of the Chinese diasporic cinema. In
Malaysia, the earlier process of film production whereby the Chinese pro-
vided finance, the Malays acted and the Indians directed and wrote, had
ceased by the early 1970s. From the mid-1970s, the emergence of Bumipu-
tra (indigenous race) film-makers pushed the Malay government to
restrain Chinese control of the Malaysian film industry. As the Malaysian
government was also concerned about the ‘ethnically chauvinistic strains’
(Latiff 1977: 105) in Chinese films, the central government aimed to estab-
lish a domestic film industry, controlled and managed by Malays. Accord-
ing to the government’s new economic policy established in 1970, the
indigenous people were to enjoy no less than 30 per cent of corporate
wealth within a 20-year period: thus, the government founded a National
Film Corporation in 1981 to ensure ‘that a sizeable portion of the total
volume of business done in the production, distribution and exhibition
sectors would be handled by the Malays’ (Latiff 1982: 199). Under this
pressure, in the early 1980s, ‘Cathay sold off 31 per cent of its equity to a
government agency’ and Shaw Brothers sold 70 per cent of its Malaysian
exhibition chain to Malay exhibitors (Latiff 1985: 211–2).
In Singapore, Shaw Brothers’ studio closed down in 1967, 2 years after
Singapore became independent from Malaysia, as involvement with ‘union
problems and the studio workers’ discontent toward their employers when
the Singapore government’s policy turned unfavourable for them’ (Basri
and Alauddin 1995: 60). In the 1970s, film censorship in Singapore intensi-
fied in relation to filmic representations of politics, violence and sex (Lent
1990: 198). In Indonesia, a quota system was established, and 700 Chinese
films in 1973 reduced to 100 in 1980, after which period the government
started to participate in the selection of films from overseas (Sen 1996:
174–9). From 1976, the Thai government increased the importation tax to
1400 per cent to promote its own film industry, which cut out two-thirds of
Chinese films (Lent 1990: 216). In the late 1970s, the Hong Kong film
industry also lost the South Vietnamese market, when the Communist
government took over. In Taiwan, although Hong Kong films achieved
higher box-office revenue than local films, the Taiwanese film industry
emerged in the 1970s to become a strong competitor to the Hong Kong
film industry, and Taiwanese films were also popular in Hong Kong. These
changes not only affected the major players such as Shaw Brothers, but
 Hong Kong Cinema 1956–79 41
also halted most overseas financial investment in Hong Kong independent
productions. Few overseas distributors or exhibitors would take the risks
of investing in films that had little opportunity of distribution and exhibi-
tion in their own territories (Film Biweekly no.112, 26 May 1983, 34–5).
Although Chinese diasporic cinema was eroded by these two major
factors, I do not wish to suggest that overseas markets were no longer
important to the Hong Kong film industry, nor to indicate that the Chinese
tradition disappeared from Hong Kong films. However, a dominant period
of Chinese diasporic cinema in the production-centred film industry and
market was clearly over. A Hong Kong-controlled industry producing
films targeted at the Hong Kong domestic market and other national film
markets rather than the ethnic Chinese market began to develop in the
late 1970s.
In the next four chapters, I will argue that Hong Kong cinema develops
into a quasi-national cinema after the late 1970s, influenced by a further
shift in the triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the
Chinese motherland and Hong Kong.
3 Hong Kong film production,
market and criticism 1979–97

The triangular relationship between Britain, China and Hong Kong that
dominated the history of the colony also played an important role in the
period leading up to the colony’s return to China. In 1979, when Hong
Kong Governor, MacLehose, visited Beijing to discuss the possibility of an
extension of the New Territories lease, Hong Kong was not the same
society as it had been in 1950 when it separated from the mainland.
Economically, Hong Kong was one of the leading financial and trading
centres in the world, known as one of the four ‘mini-dragons’ in Asia. Cul-
turally, the colony had developed its own identity. The term Xianggang
ren (Hongkongese) was popular both within and outside the territory. In
the early 1980s, when the Chinese government indicated that China would
take back the colony in 1997, Hong Kong was not enthusiastic about its
return. To Hong Kong, China was not just the ‘motherland’, but a country
with a Communist government and third-world economy. The uncertain-
ties of an unknown future beyond 1997 meant that the colony suffered a
crisis of both confidence and identity from the early 1980s. Between 1982
and 1984, Hong Kong was excluded from Sino-British negotiations about
its own future. Between 1984 and 1988, the colony battled against both the
Chinese and the British governments over changes to its political struc-
ture. China’s uncompromising decision to establish a nuclear power
station near the colony, and the drafting of Hong Kong’s constitution of
the Basic Law between 1985 and 1990 did not impress the community.
Furthermore, the Chinese government’s handling of the Beijing student
democracy movement in 1989 also reinforced Hong Kong’s view of the
Chinese government as an undemocratic Communist regime. The failure
of both Britain’s confidence-boosting scheme after the Tiananmen Square
incident and the political reforms instituted by the last Governor, Chris
Patten, on the eve of the colony’s return to China reflected the demise of
British influence in the triangular relationship. As a consequence, and
more than in any other historical periods, Hong Kong cinema has become,
in the 1980s and 1990s, a forum for the construction, exploration and ques-
tioning of Hong Kong’s sense of nationhood.
This chapter begins the second part of the book, which covers the
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 43
period from the late 1970s to 1997, when China regained Hong Kong.
Following the first two chapters, which carried out an historical examina-
tion of Hong Kong cinema, the second part of the book advances the argu-
ment that from the late 1970s Hong Kong cinema developed into a
quasi-national cinema. This chapter explores the argument by looking at
three aspects of Hong Kong cinema in relation to Higson’s approaches to
national cinema: a production-centred industry, an exhibition-led film
market and film criticism.
The first section shows how the ‘absence’ of China had allowed the
British coloniser and the local Chinese to manage their own political, eco-
nomic and social affairs. Consequently, Hong Kong enjoyed autonomy
and a geopolitically defined community. The section argues that this Hong
Kong community nevertheless identified with China in terms of a shared
ethnic cultural identity. Furthermore, Hong Kong’s identification with
China was strengthened by two other factors from the early 1990s – the
demise of British influence and the colony’s economic integration with
South China. The section argues that the nature of the duality of Hong
Kong’s identity in the triangular relationship was far more problematic in
Hong Kong’s ‘imagined community’ than in any other geopolitically
defined nation-states. Hong Kong, therefore, was a quasi-nation.
The second section in the chapter discusses Hong Kong’s domination of
local film production and its perception of domestic and overseas markets.
It argues that although Hong Kong was a quasi-nation, the Hong Kong
film industry – its infrastructures of production, distribution and exhibition
– operated as a national film industry in respects of its ownership and its
economic and cultural relationship with its community. The final section
discusses strategies in local film criticism that have shaped Hong Kong
cinema as a ‘national’ cinema. As the first section argues, though Hong
Kong was a quasi-nation, critical approaches to Hong Kong cinema in the
colony were similar to those that evaluate national cinema. However, a
few critical approaches to Hong Kong films also contested the status of
Hong Kong cinema as representing national cinema.
While this chapter focuses on the discussions of Hong Kong’s domina-
tion in local film production, exhibition and criticism, Chapters 4, 5 and 6
examine Hong Kong films as texts of national cinema. Each of the three
chapters will address the question of the extent to which Hong Kong films
contribute to the construction of the concept of the British colony as a
quasi-nation.

Hong Kong as a quasi-nation

China’s closed-door policy, and the British coloniser’s active involvement
in local economic and social affairs produced a relatively autonomous
Hong Kong. However, this autonomy was not firmly established until the
late 1960s. Although the Hong Kong economy developed rapidly after the
44 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
mid-1950s, the social welfare system in relation to housing (Hopkins 1971:
271–314), education (Podmore 1971: 42), health and working conditions
(England 1971: 220–2) remained inadequate. Dissatisfied with Hong
Kong’s living and working conditions, many local residents joined the
campaign to protest against the colonial government in 1967 (Scott 1989:
121). The campaign was organised by local left-wing organisations spurred
on by the mainland’s Cultural Revolution, and quickly spread into a series
of violent disturbances causing more than fifty deaths and millions of
American dollars’ damage in local trade and property. The 18-month cam-
paign did not achieve the aims of the left-wing extremists: to liberate Hong
Kong from the British imperialists. Instead, it brought about a change in
the triangular relationship. China further withdrew its influence from
Hong Kong. For the next decade, the Chinese government focused on car-
rying out its policy on Hong Kong – changqi dasuan, chongfen liyong
(planning on a long term basis and full utilisation) (C. Yu 1996: 70–7,
92–8). The disturbances described above also encouraged the colonial
government to review its own policies on Hong Kong, especially regarding
its relationship with the local community. Finally, and most significantly,
the local Chinese community distanced itself from China’s Cultural
Revolution throughout the 1970s.
After the disturbances of 1967 and 1968, the colonial government began
to include more local Chinese in government decision-making processes.
The government introduced a series of political reforms (Scott 1989:
106–11). It expanded its membership of advisory bodies to represent a
wide range of community interests and encouraged Chinese representa-
tives to express the community’s views on government policies. The
government also inaugurated a series of administrative reforms and pro-
moted a programme of localisation. It recruited more Chinese into higher
levels of administration, and opened more channels of communication
with the wider Chinese community. Both Radio and Television Hong
Kong (RTHK) and the City District Officer Scheme were founded in 1967
and 1968 respectively to explain the government’s policies and to listen to
community opinions. Together with the campaign against corruption, and
the improvement in community services during the 1970s, a positive image
of the colonial government as responsible, open and ‘democratic’ was
established by the late 1970s (S.K. Lau 1983: 25–67).
The government’s commitment to social services also gained popular
support. Its services created a suitable environment for the development
of a geopolitically defined community. In 1960, only 11.6 per cent of Hong
Kong’s population enjoyed the benefits of the government’s public
housing programmes; however, by the late 1970s, this figure had increased
to 43 per cent (Hutcheon 1981: 5). In 1951, there were eleven government
hospitals, five government-assisted hospitals and eight private hospitals,
with less than two beds for 1,000 people (Choa 1977: 132). By the late
1970s, twenty-six government hospitals were established, twenty-one
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 45
government-assisted hospitals and eleven private hospitals, providing four
beds per 1,000 people (Choa 1977: 123–54). In 1951, about one in six chil-
dren attended secondary school; however, this number increased to one in
three by the late 1970s (Hinton 1977: 145–62). The government also
played an active role in tertiary education. In 1963, the government
founded the Chinese University of Hong Kong, and in 1972, the Hong
Kong Polytechnic. Expenditure on education increased from HK$845
million in 1972–3 to HK$1981 million in 1978–9 (Scott 1989: 158). These
improvements in social services changed the community’s perception of
Hong Kong so that it became possible to make one’s home in the colony.
The government also promoted community awareness through organis-
ing and sponsoring various cultural activities (Turner 1995). Hong Kong’s
different cultural and trading festivals were held annually or every 2 years
to display the colony’s economic achievements to the world. These festi-
vals manifested and projected an image of Hong Kong as a successful
Chinese population, westernised and modern, very different from earlier
images of mainland refugees (Ho and Turner 1994). Schemes to increase
awareness of the community were particularly targeted at the younger
generation, who constituted 55 per cent of Hong Kong’s population at the
time (Hong Kong 1993), through various programmes: Fight Against
Crime, Summer Youth Activities Programmes, Clean up Hong Kong and
Home in Hong Kong.
Improvements in the social welfare system, the promotion of cultural
activities, as well as the government’s political reforms, achieved profound
political significance in the construction of the Hong Kong community.
Together they provided examples for the Hong Kong Chinese to compare
their situation to the government and lifestyle on the Chinese mainland. In
the early 1970s, when Hong Kong tertiary students launched an anti-
colonialist movement and called upon society to ‘return to China, identify-
ing with the ancestry of home’ (huigui zugou, rentong zuxian), they gained
little support from the wider community. Chen Te (1977: 33) explains:

Students’ call for a ‘return to China’ could not last. Even if we accept
that Hong Kong is not an ideal society, we have to admit that the
colony has many good aspects that we value. Otherwise, how can we
explain that the Hong Kong population is always increasing; every
Mainland person legally or illegally wants to stay. And yet nobody in
Hong Kong would like to return. Till today we still see those disap-
pointed illegal Mainland migrants on television when the Hong Kong
police force them to return.

Television played another important role in the construction of the Hong

Kong community. Hong Kong cultural critics argue that television was the
pioneer producer of Hong Kong’s indigenous culture (Q.X. Chen 1995:
80–5; Zhou 11990: 1–22; Kung and Zhang 1984: 10–13; Ma 1999: 33–4).
46 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
Television unifies the popular tastes of Hong Kong out of the linguistic and
cultural diversity of Mandarin, Cantonese, Shanghai and Minnan. From a
historical perspective, Chen Qixiang argues that a distinct Hong Kong tele-
vision culture did not emerge until the mid-1970s though television arrived
in the colony in the late 1950s. The prosperous Hong Kong economy in the
1970s allowed television to charge competitive rates for advertising, which
funded an increased number of local productions (Q.X. Chen 1995: 84).
Socially, there was a demand for cultural products that related to Hong
Kong. Growing up in a Cantonese and British educational system, the post-
war generation was less impressed by Mandarin cultural products (Q.X.
Chen 1995: 82; Law 1995a: 316). Television in Cantonese filled the gap
between Mandarin films and Western popular cultural products. In addi-
tion, the instant coverage of political, economic and social issues between
1973 and 1979 (of the stock market crash, of civil service reforms, of police
corruption, of local crime and of illegal migrants from China and Vietnam),
all contributed to the popularity of Hong Kong television.
Cultural critics argue that television created a Hong Kong community
sharing an imaginary totality (Q.X. Chen 1995: 80–5; Zhou: 1–22; Kung
and Zhang 1984: 10–13; Ma 1999: 33–4; Choi 1990: 537–63; H.M. Chan
1994: 443–68), by constructing China as traditional and socialist and Hong
Kong as modern and capitalist. Numerous soaps and serials recreated
China by adapting classical Chinese novels, modifying and inventing
historical events and Chinese mythology. The representation of a nostalgic
past produced a particular sense of Chinese cultural identity, from which
Hong Kong spectators identified China in terms of its ethnic cultural tradi-
tion. At the same time, Hong Kong’s news programmes offered daily
images of the socialist mainland, contrasting the two political and social
terrains of Hong Kong and China. As China is thus presented as ‘remote’
to Hong Kong’s daily life, the imagined community of Hong Kong
becomes distinctive. Arguing that Hong Kong television news anchored
the imagined community, Eric Ma (1999: 34) notes:

Television news, which remained in the top ten television programmes

throughout the 1970s, devoted a considerable proportion of its time to
local issues. For the first time, the people in Hong Kong started receiv-
ing a daily diet of television images of the city. Through the screen, the
literal, much-ignored notion of ‘Hong Kong society’ was knitted into
visual news narratives. The abstract ‘city of Hong Kong’ was able, at
least as represented in the news programmes, to incarnate itself into
concrete, integrative, and localised social events. The ‘local’, instead of
the ‘remote’ China, started to become the point of reference for the
public.

Hong Kong’s imagined community represented through news programmes

was also reinforced through RTHK. RTHK did not broadcast pro-
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 47
grammes; however, it produced a variety of cultural products focusing on
Hong Kong society in the name of social education. For instance, its docu-
drama Shizi shanxia / Below the Lion Rock constructed the community by
showing how governmental policies were set to tackle social problems. It
constructed Hong Kong as representing a strong relationship between the
colonial government and Chinese society. It also participated in the con-
struction of Hong Kong history through exploring Hong Kong’s relation-
ship with China. In a celebration of 10 years of award-winning
programmes on RTHK, Er Lang (1985: 39–40) reports that RTHK’s series
and documentaries cover two broad themes. One is the theme of
chengzhang (growing up), which focuses on the growing process of the
post-war generation in Hong Kong. From the perspective of childhood
memories, these programmes depict cultural and social environments
where China is absent. The other is the theme of lishi jiyao (historical doc-
umentaries), which focus on Hong Kong’s exploration of the history of
Hong Kong’s territory in relation to that of China.
Commercial stations also constructed the imagined community of Hong
Kong by presenting its capitalist images of prosperity. Zhou Huashan
(1990: 23), Chen Qixiang (1995: 85) and Eric Kit-wai Ma (1992: 10) argue
that a common theme shared in drama serials is a celebration of individu-
alism and success, which explain how Hong Kong’s ‘economic miracle’ was
achieved. These drama serials, together with other entertainment pro-
grammes, including comedy shows and the Miss Hong Kong Pageant,
offered the modern, capitalist, glamorous city lifestyle of Hong Kong,
which opposed the traditionalism and socialism of China.
Hong Kong’s identity was constructed particularly in relation to main-
land Chinese. In his study of Hong Kong television drama serials, Eric Ma
(1996: 169–223) argues that China was imagined as the other in the late
1970s. One of the popular television serials, the eighty-episode
Wangzhong ren / The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1979) is about a lower
middle-class Hong Kong family. The parents bring their oldest son to
Hong Kong and leave their infant younger son on the mainland. Twenty
years later, the older son graduates from the University of Hong Kong,
while the younger son arrives in the colony illegally without informing his
family. His arrival brings the family a succession of tragedies. Significantly,
the serial produced, in Ma’s words, ‘the two-set collection’ (1999: 74)
between the people of Hong Kong and the mainland Chinese. Two geopo-
litical cultural identities are produced through the categories of high and
low culture. Ma writes:

Wai [elder brother] mixes with artists, writers, journalists, and film dir-
ectors. His close friends are making experimental films, publishing
‘serious’ magazines, translating classic Russian novels, and studying in
prestigious foreign institutes like MIT and British Film Institute. They
hang out in coffee shops, bars, and clubs. On the other hand, Ah
48 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
Chian [the mainlander] mixes with disco dancers, triads, gamblers, and
kung-fu masters. He reads comics and watches television all day. He
pays frequent visits to cheap massage parlours and finally opens one
himself.
(Ma 1999: 74)

By the late 1970s, the idea of a Hong Kong community was firmly estab-
lished. When 128,000 mainland Chinese arrived illegally in the colony
between 1978 and 1979, they were regarded as a social burden on the
government and on society (Tong 1991: 17; Y. Yao 1979: 26–9; Wu 1979:
18–21; Qishi niandai vol.114, 20–35). The fear of having to share Hong
Kong’s prosperity with the mainland Chinese was further intensified in
1982, when the Chinese government indicated that China would regain the
colony in 1997. Fearing life under a Communist government, and having a
lack of confidence in the British coloniser after 2 years of Sino-British
negotiations, Hong Kong nationalism developed rapidly to pursue the
rights of the community in formulating a self-governing body under
Chinese sovereignty.
The Sino-British Joint Declaration in 1984 opened another chapter in
the triangular relationship. The colonial government was gradually with-
drawing its involvement in Hong Kong’s affairs and, increasingly, China
became involved in dealing with Hong Kong’s political, economic and
social interests. To China, Hong Kong’s return was not merely an issue
concerning Hong Kong, but the beginning of national reunification under
the Communist Party. Hong Kong provided China with an opportunity to
demonstrate its ability to control a capitalist society under Deng Xiaop-
ing’s policy of ‘one country two systems’. Economically, the colony also
played an important role in China’s modernisation programme. These
national, political, and economic agendas motivated China to make sure
that every step in the transition was made on their terms.
Given two major factors – the fear of living under the Communist
government and the lack of confidence in the British government’s deal-
ings with China – Hong Kong felt the need to articulate its concerns. In
theory, Hong Kong nationalism had little trouble with Deng Xiaoping’s
policy of ‘one country two systems’. But in reality, the question of how the
Chinese government would carry out its policies was unclear to the colony,
since China and Hong Kong interpreted some key concepts quite differ-
ently, for instance, those of sovereignty, election and high degree of
autonomy.
The transition period was politically turbulent but economically pros-
perous. A concern that China’s policy of ‘Hong Kong people rule Hong
Kong’ would not be implemented led Hong Kong nationalists to demand
that the colonial government keep their promise to assist the colony in
establishing a representative government before Hong Kong’s handover to
China. However, Hong Kong’s voice was overshadowed by Britain’s
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 49
cautious policy towards China. Under Governor David Wilson, the estab-
lishment of a representative government through direct election was
delayed. The Beijing student democracy movement in 1989 intensified
Hong Kong’s desire for democracy; at the same time, it caused a further
crisis of identity and confidence. The year 1990 saw a dramatic increase in
the number of Hong Kong residents migrating overseas: according to the
Hong Kong government’s conservative’ figures, numbers rose from 42,000
in 1989 to 62,000 in 1990 (Skeldon 1996: 141–5). Hong Kong’s last Gover-
nor, Chris Patten, was passionate in his launch of political reforms for
strengthening the ‘democratic’ system before the departure of the
coloniser. However, the reforms were viewed cynically by both the British
in the colony (Tambling 1997: 355–75) and the Hong Kong Chinese, espe-
cially those in the business sector, as an exercise enabling colonial retreat
with honour and dignity.
However, despite Hong Kong’s fear of the Beijing government and
despite the colony’s active engagement in the construction of a distinct
Hong Kong identity, the shared historical and ethnic cultural tradition
with China has always played an essential role in Hong Kong’s geopoliti-
cally defined ‘imagined’ community. The majority of Hong Kong Chinese
would not deny their ethnic cultural roots. Every year, thousands of Hong
Kong people cross the Chinese border to celebrate various traditional fes-
tivals with their families, and to renew their ethnic cultural links with
China. And every year, different political, professional and regional cul-
tural groups in Hong Kong celebrate significant Chinese national days
including Chinese Youth Day (4 May), National Day(s) of the People’s
Republic of China (1 October) and Republic of China (10 October).
Traditional cultural values, customs and ways of life have always been
maintained and developed in the colony. Since the early 1980s after China
opened its doors, Hong Kong’s ethnic cultural connections with the main-
land have been strengthened.
The shared ethnic cultural tradition with the mainland has encouraged
Hong Kong to view China as its motherland, despite the latter being under
Communist government. When Beijing students launched their democracy
movement in 1989, the British colony’s residents, like Beijing’s residents,
made heart-felt cries of ‘Chinese do not attack Chinese!’. Instantly, the
Hong Kong Chinese became the students’ comrades. They donated
money, gave blood and, finally, assisted student leaders to flee China.
About one in six Hong Kong residents took to the streets to express their
strong support for the students. Hong Kong’s support for the Beijing stu-
dents reflected the colony’s dual identity as people of both Hong Kong
and China. In the early 1990s when China suffered a flood diaster, the
colony, once again, offered generous donations. In 1996 when the Japan-
ese built lighthouses on the Diaoyu island, the Hong Kong residents of
Chinese origin organised public demonstrations to protest against Japan’s
claim to sovereignty over the islands. These events revealed that the
50 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
‘imagined community’ of Hong Kong was not simply confined to the
concept of a geopolitically defined community, but also subscribed to the
notion of a shared ethnic cultural identity with China.
During this time, Hong Kong’s identification with China was strength-
ened not only by the demise of British influence in the colony, but also by
the increase of China’s influence over Hong Kong’s economy. China had
become Hong Kong’s most important trading partner. The mainland was
the largest market as well as supplier for the colony’s re-exports, and the
second largest market for Hong Kong’s domestic exports (Hong Kong
1989: 68–9). Eighty-nine percent of goods re-exported through Hong Kong
were destined for, or originated from China (Hong Kong 1995: 68). China
was also the most significant location for Hong Kong investment, including
light manufacturing industries, tourist facilities, property development and
financial services. In Guangdong province, more than three million people
worked for Hong Kong companies (Hong Kong 1989: 68–9). At the same
time, China was also the major investor in Hong Kong, in the areas of
banking, importing, exporting, wholesaling and retailing, transportation,
warehousing, property development, financial services, and infrastructure
projects (Sung 1996: 182–208; G. Shen 1994: 469–84).
In the context of the demise of the British coloniser and with the ever-
increasing economic integration with China, Hong Kong could not be
‘imagined’ purely from the perspective of a geopolitically defined
community; the ‘imagining’ of the Hong Kong community overlapped with
the community’s identification with the mainland as the ‘great Chinese
nation’. Positioned within the triangular relationship, Hong Kong could
not but be a quasi-nation. This was not only because the colony lacked
political status as an independent nation, but also because the ‘imagining’
of self as a distinct community in the triangular relationship was far more
complicated and problematic than for other ‘imagined’ national
communities.
I end this section by citing from an essay by an undergraduate student
from the Chinese University of Hong Kong. Her feelings of ambiguity in
identifying with China are not only commonly shared with the Hong
Kong-born generation of Chinese origin, but also reflect the problematic
notion of a distinct Hong Kong cultural identity.

Until the ’89 student democracy movement, the kind of subtle feelings
[in identifying with China] mixed with untold remoteness and contra-
diction was again inspired by the up-surging call of Beijing University
students. . . . As a bystander, I felt that I shared their feelings. While
they were crying, I followed and cried; while they were calling out, I
followed and called out too. It was the first time that I had been so
proud of being Chinese. But, every time I read the [Beijing students’]
‘Statement of Hunger Strike’: ‘The nation is our nation, the people are
our people’, I felt at a loss. It doesn’t matter how much I participated,
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 51
how sincere I was, I always had a feeling that Beijing students had
more right than I did to make such a statement. The time when I felt
that I shared a direct line of descent with them, was also the time that
I felt extremely sorrowful.
(K.X. Luo 1996: 22)

‘National’ characteristics in film industry and market

In the late 1970s, when the British colonial government began to concern
itself with the ninty-nine-years’ New Territories lease, the Hong Kong film
industry was in the process of losing the market of the Chinese diaspora in
South-East Asia, and of gaining control of its own film industry. From the
late 1970s to the early 1980s, changes in the control of the industry and
film markets ushered in the era of Hong Kong ‘national’ cinema, in which
the colony became the dominant force in four areas related to national
cinema: a production-centred industry, an exhibition-led film market, film
texts and film criticism.
Though the colony was a quasi-nation, the Hong Kong film industry
operated as a ‘national’ film industry. During the period between the late
1970s and 1997, Hong Kong cinema shared many of the features of
national cinema. The industry was owned and controlled by the Hong
Kong community. It shared a close relationship with Hong Kong business
groups, for instance, real estate, transportation, retail franchises, tourism
and catering businesses. At the same time, it also formed a relationship
with the Hong Kong government insofar as the government assisted the
industry through promotion and cultural exchange programmes. As with
other national film industries, the Hong Kong film industry was also a
forum for the construction of Hong Kong’s nationhood. From the early
1990s, lobby groups in Hong Kong increasingly demanded that the colo-
nial government make funds available for alternative film production,
protect the overseas copyrights of Hong Kong films, and assist the main-
stream industry in promotion overseas and shooting on location. Politi-
cians, cultural critics, artists and film-makers were all members of these
lobby groups. Together, they also demanded that political censorship be
removed from Hong Kong film censorship (Z.F. Gu 1983: 2–3; C.T. Li
1986: 3; Film Biweekly no.129, 1984; 3–7, no.189, 1986, 3; no.214, 1987, 5–7;
no.209, 1987; Hong Kong Film Forum 94).
A decrease in the South-East Asian film market in the late 1970s
increased the importance of the domestic market. For instance, after the
South-East Asian market was constrained, the difference in Hong Kong’s
box-office returns was one of the major factors which differentiated the
two majors of the 1970s, Shaw Brothers and Golden Harvest. Golden
Harvest was founded in 1970 by Raymond Chow (Zou Wenhuai), a Hong
Kong born Hakka, Shanghai St. John’s University graduate, and head of
publicity and production chief of Shaw Brothers between 1958 and 1970.
52 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
In 1970 when Cathay indicated that the company intended to end its pro-
duction business in Hong Kong, Raymond Chow leased Cathay’s studio,
then contracted its exhibition chain of 104 cinema theatres in South-East
Asia (Ming Bao, 21 September 1971), and established Golden Harvest. In
the early 1970s, Golden Harvest produced Bruce Lee’s three films, and the
commercial success of these, not only in Asia but also in the mainstream
Western market, made Golden Harvest a serious competitor to Shaw
Brothers.
It was during the period following the death of Bruce Lee that Golden
Harvest took over the leading role from Shaw Brothers in Hong Kong,
demonstrating the emergence of Hong Kong as a force in the local film
industry. From the mid-1970s to the early 1980s, Golden Harvest con-
tinued to be the leader in the local box-office, although it produced fewer
films than Shaw Brothers. The success of Golden Harvest in the domestic
market attracted local exhibitors to leave Shaw Brothers for Golden
Harvest. In the late 1970s, Golden Harvest established its own exhibition
chain overseas (Jarvie 1977: 73), while its partner Cathay was under pres-
sure from the Malaysian localisation programme.
By contrast, the loss of the South-East Asian market was fatal to Shaw
Brothers. Its huge investment in maintaining its studio and employees
could not be supported by a share of the domestic and Taiwanese markets
in competition with Golden Harvest, as well as the productive Taiwanese
film industry. Two key factors are commonly acknowledged as bringing
about the decline of Shaw Brothers. One was its rigorous studio system,
which restricted artists’ creativity, thus causing film talents to leave. For
instance, Shaw Brothers’ policy of long-term contracts drove both Bruce
Lee and Michael Hui to Golden Harvest’s project contract system. The
second factor was that Shaw Brothers’ films lagged behind the social real-
ities of Hong Kong. The studio continued to produce films about the
historical mainland, whereas Golden Harvest’s social satirical comedies
directed by Michael Hui dealt with Hong Kong in the 1970s. In 1982, Shaw
Brothers broke its tradition by showing Golden Harvest films in its own
exhibition chain in order to ‘survive’ (Shao 1985). By 1983, most of Shaw
Brothers studios were used for television production. By 1984, Shaw
Brothers had to sell 70 per cent of the exhibition and distribution facilities
in Malaysia. Production had dropped from between thirty-five to fifty films
annually after 1966 to fifteen films in 1985. Moreover, Shaw Brothers exhi-
bition chain in Hong Kong also folded. In 1986, the studio produced no
films. Apart from the period of Japanese occupation of Hong Kong from
1940 to 1946, it was the first time that the Shaw family had not produced a
film since the family business transferred to Hong Kong on the eve of the
Japanese occupation of Shanghai in the mid 1930s.
The breakdown of Chinese diasporic cinema provided an opportunity
for local business to dominate in the Hong Kong film industry. In the early
1980s two other Hong Kong entrepreneurs joined the industry and estab-
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 53
lished their own production houses, distribution agencies and exhibition
chains. In 1980, Cinema City was founded by a local real estate enterprise,
Kowloon Development Company, which also owned Golden Amusements
Ltd and was a shareholder of the local bus transportation system (Leng
1985: 5–6). As Golden Amusements had managed a number of cinema
theatres under the name of Golden Princess exhibition since 1977 (M.W.
Yu 1983: 18), they established their production house, Cinema City, to
supply products to Golden Princess. In 1984, D&B film production was
founded by the owner of an up-market jewellery and fashion retail busi-
ness Dickson Poon. Poon also owned Dickson Amusements, which was
involved in popular cultural productions, including popular music, video
production and video retailing businesses (Film Biweekly 28 November
1985, 3–9). In the following year, D&B leased Shaw Brothers’ exhibition
chain and established D&B exhibition in Hong Kong. As distribution and
exhibition were controlled by these three majors, the majority of local
‘independent’ film productions in Hong Kong became sub-production
houses for the three majors throughout the 1980s (Hong Kong Cinema in
the Eighties 1991: 91).
As discussed in the previous section, community awareness in Hong
Kong developed rapidly after the late 1960s, and was also reflected in the
local film industry and the industry’s perception and development of film
markets. The Hong Kong film industry strengthened its dominance in the
domestic market through expanding local exhibition, and taking over
foreign film exhibition, especially Hollywood film distribution in Hong
Kong. Instead of targeting the market of the Chinese diaspora as in the
earlier period, the Hong Kong film industry followed the success of Bruce
Lee’s films in the West to further explore national film markets by aiming
at the two perhaps most competitive markets in the world, the United
States and Japan.
As the older companies, Cathay, Shaw Brothers and Guangyi had used
Hong Kong mainly for production, they paid less attention to expanding
their influence in Hong Kong film exhibition. Although Shaw Brothers
owned a couple of local cinema theatres, by comparison most Hong Kong
cinema theatres were owned by local real estate businesses.1 In the 1960s
and 1970s, local cinema theatres were grouped into three categories (Ng
1983: 134–8). The first comprised those luxury cinema theatres with more
expensive tickets, which showed first-run Hollywood and Mandarin films.
The second made up the majority. Their tickets were sold at lower prices,
and they showed mainly Cantonese films and second-run Hollywood and
Mandarin films. The third comprised those cinemas selling even cheaper
tickets, sometimes one ticket buying two Cantonese films. In the 1960s
when films from Cathay, Shaw Brothers, Guanyi and other Cantonese pro-
duction houses were profitable, local exhibitors contracted these com-
panies for supplies. In the late 1960s Cantonese films were in decline; as a
consequence, Cantonese film exhibition chains closed down in 1970, and
54 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
these cinema houses shifted to showing Mandarin films. The Hong Kong
market was then dominated mainly by Hollywood and Shaw Brothers.
However, from the early 1970s the emergence of Golden Harvest and
other independent production houses in association with Golden Harvest
encouraged some local exhibitors to leave Shaw Brothers for Golden
Harvest.
From the late 1970s, distribution and exhibition in Hong Kong was
carried out by three major production houses: Golden Harvest, Cinema
City and Shaw Brothers (D&B after 1985). In 1983, fifty-one out of a total
eighty-eight cinemas in Hong Kong were controlled by the three majors
and exhibited local films, in comparison to five cinemas owned by the
mainland government screening mainly mainland films, and thirty-two
cinemas exhibiting American, Japanese and European films. In addition,
the majority of these thirty-two cinemas also exhibited popular profitable
local films (M.W. Yu 1983: 18–21). In 1988, as local films became more
popular than foreign films in Hong Kong, another local film exhibition
chain, Newport, was formed by a group of cinemas previously showing
European films (Lan 1988: 7–12). As Newport was controlled by a family
real estate business rather than a production house, the establishment of
Newport encouraged independent film production in Hong Kong. In 1988,
among 133 cinema theatres in Hong Kong, 107 showed Hong Kong films,
compared with twenty-two cinemas showing foreign films (see Table 3.1).
As a consequence, the box-office takings for local films also increased (see
Tables 3.2a and 3.2b).
From 1990 to 1997, there were many changes in production houses, dis-
tribution method and exhibition chains. Cinema City and D&B ceased
operation. Instead, independents such as Hui Hark’s Film Workshop,
Alfred Chang’s Mobile Film Production, Johnny Mak Productions, Ko Chi
Sum Productions, Cosmopolitan Film Production and the United Film-
makers Organisation became the major forces in local production. Also,
following Newport, another three exhibition chains were established for

Table 3.1 Number of cinema theatres in Hong Kong, 1983–94

Year Total no. of Cinemas Cinemas Cinemas

cinemas showing showing showing both
Chinese films foreign films Chinese and
foreign films

1983 89 55 23 11
1985 91 62 29
1987 122 88 34
1988 129 107 22
1994 176 130 44 2

Source: This table has been put together from several sources: the 1983 figures from Yu
Mo-wan (1983); 1985, 1987 and 1988 from Chen Qingwei (1985 and 1988); and the 1994
figures are compiled from cinema theatres listed in Film Biweekly.
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 55
Table 3.2a Percentage of Hong Kong box-office takings, 1977–89

Year Hong Kong Chinese and Foreign films Total takings

films Taiwanese films % HK$’000
% %

1977 50.3 3.6 46.1 0,208,012

1978 52.6 0.9 46.4 0,229,350
1979 47.7 3.5 48.8 0,252,309
1980 46.8 5.8 47.4 0,352,585
1981 56.3 3.2 40.5 0,434,656
1982 60.9 1.1 38.0 0,661,809
1983 64.4 2.0 33.6 0,656,309
1984 70.2 2.4 27.4 0,795,974
1985 64.0 2.3 33.7 0,869,385
1986 67.5 3.5 29.0 0,910,702
1987 71.1 3.1 25.8 1,209,660
1988 77.8 2.1 21.4 1,410,775
1989 69.2 0.6 27.8 1,335,121

Source: Law Kar, ‘Hong Kong film market and trends in the 1980s’, Hong Kong films in the
1980s, Hong Kong: Urban Council, 1991, p.70.

Table 3.2b Percentage of Hong Kong box-office takings, 1990–6

Year Hong Kong films Foreign films Total takings

% % HK$’000

1990 66.7 33.3 1,403,740

1991 77.2 22.8 1,287,995
1992 94.6 5.4 1,551,637
1993 73.6 26.4 1,538,496
1994 69.2 30.8 1,384,073
1995 58.0 42.0 1,339,092
1996 53.9 46.1 1,222,300

Source: Hong Kong, Kowloon and New Territories Motion Picture Industry Association
1997. Foreign films also include the mainland Chinese and Taiwanese films. Box-office
takings of mainland and Taiwanese films are not available.

local films: Imperial, Regal and Modern. Among five local film exhibition
chains, only Golden Harvest and Mandarin, which was established in the
early 1990s, engaged in film production. This meant that there were more
opportunities for independent film-makers to exhibit their products than
in the 1980s. Although the industry became more diverse in the 1990s, it
remained under the control of Hong Kong business and community fac-
tions.
Equally, Hong Kong also increased its role in the local exhibition of
foreign films. The distribution of foreign films was divided between those
who managed their own cinema houses for screening foreign films, such as
56 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
Shaw Brothers’ Nanguo, Golden Harvest’s Panasia and Edko, and those
independent distributors who sought exhibitors to screen their films. In the
early 1980s, there were twenty-three cinemas showing foreign films, thirty-
five per cent of total local exhibition (M.W. Yu 1983: 20). Among them
about six showed exclusively foreign films, of which five were dominated
by Hollywood films, and one by independent American films and other
national films. In 1983, about 270 foreign films were screened in Hong
Kong, 65 per cent of which were Hollywood films, British 10 per cent,
French 9 per cent, Italian 8 per cent, and the rest Japanese, German and
Danish. The other seventeen cinemas showed principally foreign films but
popular Hong Kong films were also shown in these cinema houses (Q.W.
Chen 1985: 11–12).
Before the end of the 1980s, Hollywood majors distributed their own
films either through their own distribution agencies, such as Warner Bros
(the Far East) and Disney, or through their amalgamated distributors,
Fox-Columbia, or United International Pictures for Universal, Paramount,
MGM, and United Artists. But at the end of the 1980s, only Warner Bros
(the Far East) remained to distribute its own films; American films from
both the majors and independents were disseminated by local distributors
and shared between Golden Harvest, Golden Princess (Late Empire),
Newport, Edko and Astor. In 1989, Golden Harvest brought United Inter-
national Pictures to Hong Kong, which enabled the company to distribute
films produced by Universal, Paramount, MGM and United Artists. As
American products comprised about 75 per cent of foreign films exhibited
in Hong Kong, the Hong Kong market was eventually controlled by the
local film industry. Spanning both Chinese and foreign film exhibition, the
industry was able to control its domestic market for its own best interests.
For example, after Golden Harvest purchased UIP, announcing that it
would form an exhibition chain for UIP films, it also indicated that people
should not be surprised to see Golden Harvest films screened in these
cinemas (Q.W. Chen 1988: 9–11).
One of the major differences between Hong Kong cinema after the late
1970s and diasporic cinema was reflected in the development of overseas
markets. The restraints on the South-East Asian market in the late 1970s
shifted the industry from rather narrowly targeting the Chinese diaspora
to focusing on other national markets. As very few Hong Kong films were
able to receive as much attention in other countries as Hollywood films, it
was crucial to access Hollywood distribution and exhibition in the world
markets. Through financial investment, Golden Harvest produced a
number of American films, including Cannonball, Battle Creek Brawl, The
Killing of America, The Return of the Soldiers, The Rats, The Texans, Ter-
rible Game, The Rough Riders, High Road to China, Megaforce (Jiahe
dianying 1982) and Ninja Turtles. Golden Harvest also engaged with film
productions in different versions for different markets. For instance,
Jackie Chan’s The Protector 1985 involved three versions: the American
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 57
version was made by American film-makers; two other versions by Jackie
Chan with Hong Kong and Japanese film-makers were created for the
Hong Kong and Japanese markets, modulating plots, actors, patterns of
action and degrees of violence (X.Y. Chen 1985).
From the late 1980s, the Hong Kong film industry began to penetrate
other national film markets through distribution and exhibition. In 1987,
Golden Harvest and Perlis Plantation established an exhibition chain in
Malaysia, with forty-two cinemas sharing 36 per cent of the local market
(Xin Bao 8 and 14 November 1995), which did not conflict with the
Malaysian government’s policy that indigenous people should own and
manage no less than 30 per cent national business and wealth. In 1988,
with Australian Village Roadshow Ltd, Golden Harvest constructed a
cinema complex in Singapore and Malaysia. In 1993, they established
Entertainment and Theatre Network Co. Ltd to develop a cinema
complex in Thailand together with a local exhibition business group.
Because a national film industry functions as part of both national eco-
nomic and cultural institutions, it naturally draws the attention of the
government. Since the late 1970s, the Hong Kong government has pro-
vided a wide range of assistance to the industry. Unlike some European
countries, or Australia and Canada where national governments provided
funds for production, the Hong Kong government mainly played a role in
assisting and promoting its film industry. In the area of production, the
Television and Entertainment Licensing Authority (TELA), Police Public
Relations Branch, and the Broadcasting, Culture and Sport Branch hold
regular meetings with representative bodies and associations from the
industry seeking assistance.2 The government also involved in assisting the
industry in hosting the annual International Film Market in 1997.
In the area of promotion, the industry has been included in the overseas
promotion programmes headed by top Government officials during the
1980s and 1990s.3 The government also set up the Hong Kong Arts Devel-
opment Council (HKADC) to support and promote art, including films.
The Hong Kong Urban Council has held a 16-day annual International
Film Festival in Hong Kong since 1977. The Urban Council allocated
HK$150 million to set up a Hong Kong film archive.4 The Urban Council
and the Hong Kong Arts Centre have also organised the annual Hong
Kong Independent Short Film Competition since 1992. Furthermore, the
government has contributed funds for degree courses in television and film
at the Baptist University and the Hong Kong Academy for Performing
Arts.
Nationhood is reflected by various groups in a national community by
participating in the construction of its national cinema. From the 1980s,
lobby groups comprising politicians, journalists, cultural critics, film-
makers and other artists were involved in pushing the colonial government
to develop its domestic cinema as a cinema of Hong Kong. The groups
protested against the colonial government’s political censorship, arguing
58 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
that political censorship only demonstrated the government’s fear under
pressure from the Chinese government (Hong Kong Film Forum 94: 7–9).
They urged the government to establish the Hong Kong Film Archive to
preserve materials demonstrating Hong Kong’s own history as different
from that of China. They demanded the government allocate a seat in
Legislative Council for representatives of the Hong Kong film industry. To
assist film production, some lobby groups insisted that the government
should establish the Hong Kong Film Development Council or a Hong
Kong Film Commission to provide funds for ‘those art films that the indus-
try could not produce’ (W.M. Luo 1994). The reason was, as Luo Weiming
(1994) argues:

In terms of film as art, Hong Kong cinema could not keep up with
China and Taiwan. When the mainland Chinese and Taiwanese film-
makers received international awards in Cannes, Berlin, Venice, our
Hong Kong new wave film directors were either forced to make com-
mercial films, or had no films to make.

In a review examining whether government funds had been used produc-

tively in hosting the Hong Kong International Film Festival, the pro-
gramme co-ordinator, Li Cheuk-to (1994), also related the significance of
the festival to Hong Kong’s image in the international community. He
argues:

The most significant part of the festival is the section dealing with
Hong Kong films in retrospect and publication of research, essays and
primary materials. For more than a decade, its achievement does not
only contribute to the study of Hong Kong cinema. Significantly it
makes our International Film festival a unique place among many
international film festivals.

The input from the Hong Kong community in production, distribution and
exhibition, together with the participation of the Hong Kong government
and various lobby groups, has enabled the Hong Kong film industry to
become not only a profitable business, but also a distinct ‘national’ cinema
in the world of national cinemas. This distinguishes the industry from its
position during the earlier two historical periods, when it existed as part of
Chinese national cinema and Chinese diasporic cinema.

‘National’ characteristics in film criticism

Local film critics also endeavoured to shape Hong Kong cinema as a
‘national’ cinema. Their critical approaches reflected ways of perceiving
the country’s cinema as national cinema. In general, these critical
approaches showed in four major areas. First, critics set up Cantonese
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 59
cinema as a subject of Hong Kong cinema by exploring and laying out the
difference between Cantonese and Mandarin films in terms of their aes-
thetic style and production modes. Second, the critical evaluation of films
is contextualised within Hong Kong’s perspective on its political, economic
and social situation. Third, critics emphasised the notion of ‘becoming
Hong Kong’ through studying the process of indigenisation of influence
from outside, especially Hollywood. Finally, they studied Hong Kong
cinema in relation to other national cinemas. For instance, Hong Kong’s
new wave films have been compared to Italian Neo-realism, French New
Wave and German New Cinema. These critical approaches have
developed a perception of Hong Kong cinema as part of the world of
national cinema studies.
These critical approaches developed from the mid-1970s as television
was becoming localised. When the Hong Kong film market was dominated
by Shaw Brothers’ Mandarin films in the early 1970s, television stations
began to recruit local ‘writers, artists, intellectuals, and university gradu-
ates into the industry’ and produce television programmes reflecting Hong
Kong society (Ma 1999: 35). These programmes were highly praised and
encouraged by a group of Hong Kong film critics, who shared many
experiences with these film-makers: growing up in Hong Kong, receiving
their film education overseas or through self-study of Western film theo-
ries, and distancing themselves from China. They established a film
journal, Da texie (Close-up), in 1976, and actively supported and promoted
those television products and films that presented images of Hong Kong.
Many of these film critics were themselves script-writers for television
series and Hong Kong new wave films (1978–81), for instance, Law Kar,
Ng Ho, Lau Shing-hon, Shu Kei, Leung Noong-kong, Rachel Zen,
Manfred Wong, Huang Zhi and Kam Ping-hing.
Close-up which, after 1979, became Film Biweekly stands out as the
single film journal committed to Hong Kong cinema. It introduced
Western film theories to Hong Kong film criticism through the analysis of
Hong Kong films within a Western critical framework. Although the
journal has developed a more commercial appeal since the early 1980s, it
has maintained a local focus and local perspective. Generally, it covers
mainly Hong Kong and Hollywood films, with just ten per cent of its
content devoted to the mainland Chinese, Taiwanese or other national
cinemas.
With government funds available, extensive studies of Hong Kong
cinema became possible in 1978, which, in turn, contributed to the con-
struction of the study of Hong Kong cinema as part of national cinema
studies. From 1978, the Hong Kong Urban Council has funded and hosted
an annual International Film Festival, of which the major section com-
prised Hong Kong films and studies of Hong Kong films. Ninety-five per
cent of contributors were local film critics, for instance Law Kar, Sek Kei,
Ng Ho, Yu Mo-wan, Leung Noong-kong, Li Cheuk-to, Shu Kei, Lin
60 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
Nien-tung and Lau Shing-hon. This was not an accident.5 Each year a col-
lection of materials and major essays on Hong Kong film history, film
industry, genres and stars has been published. Its first publication in 1979
set the pattern for its method of selection and its critical approach, guided
by three main issues:

. . . artistic and formal qualities of the Hong Kong films; the character
of the industry; and also the changing social and economic face of
Hong Kong society.
(N.T. Lin 1978b: 7)

To regard Hong Kong cinema as a distinct cinema is to differentiate Hong

Kong cinema from the terms of Chinese national cinema. Chinese film
scholars on the mainland believe that Hong Kong cinema is part of
Chinese national cinema. Chinese film historian, Tan Chunfa (1994:
65–73), argues that Hong Kong cinema originates and develops from
Shanghai cinema. However, local publications on Hong Kong cinemas
have shown, as Law Kar argues, that from a very early stage of Chinese
film history, communication between Shanghai and Hong Kong was not a
one-way process, but a two-way process in which Shanghai cinema was
also enriched by input from Hong Kong (Law 1994: 100–2).
One of the critical approaches to Hong Kong film was to establish the
ways in which aesthetic codes and conventions of Cantonese cinema are
different from Mandarin cinema. Acknowledging that theatrical stage play
had a significant impact on Chinese films, Li Cheuk-to (1983: 60–4) argues
that the impact was reflected differently in Mandarin and Cantonese films.
Mandarin films retain the sequences and dramas of the original plays.
However, in terms of camera angles, Mandarin films reflect multiple points
of view so that the audience is able to see from different angles and levels,
instead of from a ‘fixed’ front eye-level. In contrast, Cantonese films retain
the relationship between stage play and audience. Films begin with estab-
lishing shots to assume a fixed audience position. Characters enter into a
scene, and they normally face the camera. Moreover, a scene is completed
only when characters have left the location. This feature, as Li Cheuk-to
argues, relates to the conventions of Cantonese cinema in its loose struc-
ture and detailed description. In terms of film performance, Mandarin film
actors retain theatrical performance, whereas the Cantonese film actors
stress naturalness and are more directly involved in communication with
the spectators.
In their different approaches to and focus on film history, narratives,
genres and performance, Law Kar, Ng Ho, Sek Kei and Yu Mo-wan
argued that Cantonese folk culture, Cantonese opera and Cantonese Kung
Fu have played important roles in Hong Kong films; Mandarin films
simply did not embrace such themes. Mandarin films lack the lively nature,
vigorous language and flexibility of Cantonese culture (Law 1995b: 184).
 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97 61
Acknowledging that Hollywood and Chinese literature after May Fourth
movement had an impact on Cantonese melodrama, Law Kar argues that
Cantonese opera was the base from which Cantonese melodrama
developed either in terms of its mode of production or in narratives and
performance (Law 1986: 10–14). Moreover, Cantonese dialect, its colloquial
and vernacular dialogue, has a unique function in Cantonese comedies,
which differentiates them from Mandarin comedies (Law 1985: 10–12).
The second critical approach to Hong Kong film criticism involved the
attention paid to the study of Hong Kong films in the political and social
contexts of the colony, which Darrell William Davis (1996: 17) calls a
‘reflectionist model’. This approach was charted throughout the 1980s.
Roger Garcia (1978: 36–9) argues that Cantonese films in the 1950s had
already revealed a sense of Chinese identity crisis in presenting mainland
migrants facing conflicts between traditional morality and a capitalist
lifestyle in Hong Kong. These conflicts of the 1960s were replaced by petty
bourgeois fantasy and glamour Hollywood-style as the society entered the
stage of urbanisation and industrialisation (Garcia 1982: 101–6). In the
1970s, Hong Kong films became more direct in reflecting Hong Kong
society, an approach influenced by the localisation of television pro-
grammes and the colonial government’s promotion of community aware-
ness. In the 1980s, as Sek Kei (1991: 11–17) argues, Hong Kong films
reflected both a sense of achievement of ‘being one of the four mini
dragons in Asia’, and a sense of crisis under the shadow of 1997.
The third approach was to study the process of Hong Kong films
absorbing narrative strategies, genres, aesthetics and technologies from
outside Hong Kong. As the colony is the place where ‘West meets East’,
film productions in Hong Kong are naturally influenced by Hollywood,
Japanese, the mainland and other national films. Paul Lee (1991: 78–84)
argues for four major ways in which Hong Kong popular culture, including
films, absorbs and indigenises cultural products from the West, Japan and
China. Stephen Teo (1994: 17–24) also suggests that after the Shanghai
emigres settled in the territory, Hong Kong enabled them ‘to evolve a
unique fabricated style that was partly Shanghai, partly Hong Kong’,
through a combination of Chinese cultural nationalism on the one hand
and Hollywood aestheticized materialism on the other.
The final critical approach involved comparing Hong Kong films to
other national films. Darrell William Davis calls this comparative study a
‘dialogue model’, and argues that this model shapes a country’s cinema as
a national cinema. In the early 1980s, Film Biweekly published a series of
debates on the term ‘Hong Kong New Wave’ to discuss the extent to which
a particular collection of Hong Kong films should be understood as new
wave (Film Biweekly no.50, 1989; no.51, 1981; Special Summer Edition’
July 1981). These writings provoked a study of Hong Kong films in rela-
tion to Italian Neo-Realism, French New Wave and New German Cinema
(F.L. Zhang 1993: 188–204), on the one hand, and to the mainland’s fifth
62 Hong Kong Cinema 1979–97
generation films and Taiwan’s new cinema, on the other. All four critical
approaches examined above have contributed to an understanding of
Hong Kong cinema as a geopolitical culturally defined cinema. However,
in comparison to the earlier stage before the late 1970s, studies of Hong
Kong cinema in relation to Chinese traditional art and aesthetics
decreased, but did not disappear (N.T. Lin 1984; S.H. Lau 1991).
Other critical activities to promote the understanding of Hong Kong
cinema in relation to the colony’s specific political, cultural and social
context were developed in the early 1980s. The Hong Kong Golden Film
Awards were launched in 1981. It was the first time that Hong Kong had
held its own film awards since the inception of its film industry in 1913. It
broke the tradition of Hong Kong films having to compete with either
China’s film awards or the Taiwan Golden Horse Awards. The establish-
ment of the Golden Film Awards also replaced a tradition in local film
criticism since the 1960s, of local centres selecting ten best foreign and
Chinese films, including the People’s Republic of China and Taiwan (B.S.
Chen 1982). Since 1981, the Golden Film Awards have become a popular
cultural event in Hong Kong. They had been supported by RTHK in the
first few years, and have always been encouraged by the local film journal
Film Biweekly, the industry’s representatives: Hong Kong, Kowloon and
New Territories Motion Picture Industry Association, and television. The
awards symbolised a recognition by society of the growth of Hong Kong
cinema and indicated that the latter had become a ‘national’ cinema in
terms of the participation of its film industry, local government, television,
film critics and the community as a whole. However, to what extent is
Hong Kong nationhood constructed, presented and explored in local films
themselves? The following three chapters will address this question by
studying Hong Kong films as texts of national cinema.
4 Hong Kong films
The cultural specificity of a
quasi-national film

Chapters 4, 5 and 6 will focus on Hong Kong films in relation to the

concept of national cinema. They discuss the extent to which Hong Kong
films contribute to the understanding of the British colony as a nation, but
argue that in terms of both political and cinematic contexts, the outcome
has been more the construction of a ‘quasi-nation’ than a ‘nation’. I
approach Hong Kong films from two perspectives. From a broad perspect-
ive, this chapter studies Hong Kong films as a collection of cultural prod-
ucts that display a specific cultural character in the world of national
cinemas. Chapters 5 and 6 offer more specific and detailed analyses of
films that represent Hong Kong’s geopolitical cultural identity of a quasi-
nation.
Film scholars argue that national cinema is often recognised by the cul-
tural specificity of film products (Ukadike 1994: 201–22; Diawara 1996a:
209–19; Malkmus and Armes 1991: 63–162; Diegues 1997: 272–94; Petrie
1991: 134–67; Abel 1984: 69–238, 279–526; Higson 1996: 232–48; Jordan
and Morgan-Tamosunas 1998: 61–155; Nolletti and Desser 1992: 131–226).
To identify features of the specific cultural character of Hong Kong films, I
will use Susan Hayward’s typologies ‘that will assist in the enunciation of
the “national” of a cinema’ (1993: 8). This chapter argues for the cultural
specificity of Hong Kong films. It claims that this cultural specificity is
demonstrated in cinematic representations of Hong Kong’s identity as a
duality: being geopolitically both Hong Kong and China. The British
colony was not only imagined as a distinct community through drawing
boundaries distinguishing those involved in the triangular relationship, but
it was also imagined, fantasised, and claimed as ‘authentically’ Chinese.
The duality of Hong Kong’s geopolitical identity generates Hong Kong’s
quasi-national identity: Hong Kong was imagined and projected both as a
distinct community in its own right and as part of China.

Film narratives
As a narrative is a cultural means of making sense of the world, a film
narrative can be understood ‘as a reflection of the nation’ (Hayward 1993:
64 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film
8). This reflexivity, according to Hayward, occurs in two ways. One is
through the process of screen adaptation, and the other is through the way
in which filmic narratives explicitly and implicitly construct the significance
of a nation. Insofar as filmic adaptations are based on indigenous cultural
texts, such adaptations serve the role of ‘confirming the natural heritage’
of that nation.
In terms of Hong Kong, the question of which indigenous cultural texts
are adapted is important for the question of cultural identity. In the 1950s
and 1960s, filmic adaptations were mainly based on China’s texts – clas-
sical Chinese literature, Chinese mythology, Cantonese folklore and Can-
tonese operas.1 The 1970s saw a dramatic decrease in the filmic adaptation
of Cantonese operas and folklore; however, screen adaptations of classical
Chinese literature remained popular.2 At the same time, the number of
filmic adaptations of Hong Kong’s cultural texts increased. By the 1980s,
the number of filmic adaptations of China’s literature dramatically
decreased, but did not disappear.3 In contrast, adaptations of Hong Kong
cultural texts – novels, radio plays, stage plays and cartoon series – consti-
tuted the mainstream in local screen adaptations.4 The popularity of Hong
Kong films and their relation to other indigenous Hong Kong cultural
texts exhibit a characteristic of the specificity of Hong Kong cinema as part
of the community’s popular culture. At the same time, the filmic adapta-
tions of China’s texts also project the ‘natural heritage’ of Chinese cultural
identity in the British colony. The co-existence of these two types of filmic
adaptations presents the duality of cultural identity, relating to both Hong
Kong and China.
The key medium, however, for the development of a specific Hong
Kong cultural identity was, as shown in Chapter 3, television. Therefore, it
was to television that film-makers looked for texts to adapt in the course
of developing the cultural specificity of Hong Kong. Adaptations of televi-
sion products became a major source of inspiration for local film-makers
in the 1970s (Kung and Zhang 1984: 10–17). Successful commercial films
include Chu Yuan’s Xianggang 73 / Hong Kong 73 (1974), Zhu men yuan /
Sorrow of the Gentry (1974), Xin tixiao yinyuan / Lover’s Destiny (1975).
There were also a number of films based on ideas from television, such as
Zhang Sen’s Afu zhengzhuan / The Little Man, Ah Fook (1974), Yang
Quan’s Daxiang li / The Country Bumpkin (1974), Zhang Sen’s Afu lao
shijie / The Stupid Sailor, Ah Fook (1975), and Chen Jiasun’s Lin Azheng /
Lim Ah Chun (1978).
Furthermore, even when films were not directly adapted from television
products, narratives often reflected television’s representation of Hong
Kong, as for example, in its reportage of real social problems (Kung and
Zhang 1984: 10–17). Gui Zhihong’s popular films Chengji chalou / The Tea
House (1974), Dage Cheng / Big Brother Cheng (1975), Ng See-yuen’s
Qibai wanyuan da jie an / Million Dollar Snatch (1976) are examples of
film narratives developed from television coverage of a bank robbery
 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film 65
involving hostages, on 25 May 1974. Television reportage of police corrup-
tion and the investigation of drug dealer Wu Xihao in 1973–4 also pro-
vided primary material for two popular films, Ng See-yuen’s Lianzheng
fengbao / Anti-Corruption (1974) and Leong Po-chih’s Tiaohui / Jumping
Ash (1976). Law Kar (1984: 110–13) argues that Hong Kong new wave
films in the late 1970s and early 1980s also adopted the perspective of tele-
vision products in representing the colony. Shu Kei’s study of Ann Hui’s
television works reveals a continuity in the development of her narratives,
subject themes and filmic style from television to film (1988: 42–6). Her
first feature film, Feng jie / The Secret (1979), shows her interest in devel-
oping filmic narratives based on local events, and imitates her cinematic
style in her earlier police and crime television series CID and ICAC. Her
second and third films, Huyue de gushi / The Story of Woo Viet (1981) and
Touben nuhai / The Boat People (1982) resemble her television series
about Vietnamese boat people in Hong Kong, Ashi / Ah shi (1977) and
Lai ke / Boy from Vietnam (1978). Similarly, Alex Cheung’s Dianzhi bing-
bing / Cops and Robbers (1979) and Bianyuan ren / Man on the Brink
(1981) represent a continuation of his work in the television series CID
(Law 1984: 113). Allen Fong’s Fuzi qing / Father and Son is another film
that resembles Fong’s earlier style in television, in terms of subject, theme
and social realism. Johnny Mak’s cinematic representation of triads and
youth problems in the 1980s also recalls his popular television dramas of
the 1970s, Shida qi’an / Ten Sensational Cases (1976), Shida cike / Ten
Assassinations (1976), Da zhangfu / Operation Manhunt (1976–7) and Xin
da zhangfu / Operation Manhunt II (1976–7).
Narratives can ‘confront the spectator with an explicit or implicit
textual construction of the nation’ (Hayward 1993: 9). Since Hong Kong
was not a sovereign nation, films that explicitly present the British colony
as a nation are very scarce. However, a few Hong Kong films represented
the British colony as a nation on a connotative level, particularly through
exploring the boundaries in the triangular relationship between the British
coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong. I will elaborate this
argument further through a number of detailed textual analyses in the
next two chapters. Here, I will offer just one example to illustrate my argu-
ment. Leong Po-chih’s film, Dengdai liming / Hong Kong 1941 (1984)
deals with a story at a particular historical moment of Hong Kong – a story
of survival, love and friendship between three young people under the
Japanese occupation of the colony. The film opens with scenes of the
British colonisers leaving Hong Kong on the eve of the Japanese invasion.
In the context of the imminent signing of the Joint Declaration in 1984,
these scenes were perceived by Hong Kong film critics as an indication of
Britain’s ‘lack of commitment to the colony’ (Shu Kei’s captions in The
China Factor in Hong Kong Cinema 1990: 111). At the same time, the film
also presents a special bond between the Hong Kong Chinese and the
mainland refugees through their mutual co-operation in fighting against
66 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film
the Japanese. The film, then, constructs an image of Hong Kong as an
indigenous community by exploring the relationship between Hong Kong,
the British coloniser and the mainland refugees. At the same time, the film
could also be understood as suggesting that the colony was part of the
Chinese community, in terms of sharing a bond of kinship when con-
fronted by the Japanese. Thus, the significance of Hong Kong ‘national’
identity is foregrounded through the construction of Hong Kong as an
indigenous community in relation to the British coloniser and through its
identification with Chinese ethnicity when confronted by the Japanese.
In the 1980s, Hong Kong’s identity was constructed mainly through its
identification with the British colony and with China on different levels.
The representation of the mainland Chinese as illegal migrants and as
unfamiliar with Hong Kong’s legal system, capitalist lifestyle and public
culture5 produced a notion of Hong Kong citizens as a distinct community.
At the same time, many film narratives also constructed Hong Kong iden-
tity offering the essentialist view that Hong Kong is fundamentally
Chinese. Two popular comedies, Michael Hui’s Hejia huan / Mr. Coconut
(1988) and Alfred Cheung’s Biaojie, nihao ye! / Her Fatal Ways (1990),
begin with the unwelcome guests from China arriving in the colony. The
guests’ ignorance of Hong Kong’s capitalist lifestyle, legal system and
popular culture presents the idea of two different civic communities exist-
ing on the mainland and in Hong Kong. And yet, a shared Chinese ethni-
city and family relationships bring about a happy reunion. These films
suggest that differences in political and economic systems do not after all
undermine Hong Kong’s Chineseness and its identification with China.6
Film narratives embody the notion of Hong Kong community through
presenting its own historical continuity. Nevertheless, representations of
Hong Kong’s past also show the colony’s historical links with China.
Stanley Kwan’s Yanzhi kou / Rouge tells the story of a young woman who
commits suicide in the 1930s and returns to Hong Kong in the 1980s to find
her lover. Through her, the film connects and contrasts the past and the
present of Hong Kong’s landscape. At the same time, it also displays the
images and the narratives of the colony’s cultural and economic connec-
tions with the Canton region in the 1930s. Li Zhiyi and Peter Chan’s Xin
nanxiong nandi / He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Father (1994) deals with a story
of a young man in the 1980s who travels back to the 1960s and meets his
father and his father’s friends and neighbours.
The film displays the cultural symbols of popular music and films of the
1950s and 1960s, which, according to Linda Chiu-han Lai, is Hong Kong’s
way of collectively ‘remembering’ its past, since the colony has itself
written no ‘formal’ history (Lai 1997: 91). At the same time, the film also
reminds the audience of the historical connections between the colony and
the mainland: China’s political turbulence in the late 1940s impacted on
the colony as well as on China. Once again, images of Hong Kong history
produce the dual cultural identity of Hong Kong. Hong Kong is an histori-
 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film 67
cally indigenous community, shaped over time by political, economic,
social and cultural influences from China.

Film genres
Film genres in Hong Kong define a specific cultural character for Hong
Kong. Although the Hong Kong film industry tends to seek inspiration
from Hollywood films, certain Hollywood film genres – science fiction, war
films, Westerns and road movies – have never been well developed in
Hong Kong. However, the comedy, slapstick and gangster genres have
integrated well with local culture. Absorption of and resistance to certain
Hollywood film genres suggest that Hong Kong films are part of inter-
national film culture while they retain a collection of cultural products
unique to Hong Kong.
Internally, Hong Kong film genres have developed in tandem with
changes to Hong Kong’s political, economic and social environment. As
discussed in earlier chapters, the popularity of film genres in the 1930s and
1940s – martial arts films, anti-Japanese war films, and social realist Can-
tonese melodrama – reflected the impact of China’s national politics in
Hong Kong. The popularity of certain types of films in the 1950s and 1960s
– Cantonese opera films and Mandarin Huangmei xi, Cantonese martial
arts films, Mandarin historical melodrama, Cantonese melodrama, filmic
adaptations of classical Chinese literature, and a certain proportion of
other dialects in Hakka and Minnan films – certainly shows a lack of Hong
Kong cultural identity in local film genres.
From the 1970s, film genres responded to new political, economic and
social changes in Hong Kong. In 1973, the stock market crash destroyed
many small shareholders, and the economic recession in 1974–5 had a
drastic impact on the public’s confidence in Hong Kong’s economy. Police
corruption scandals in 1974 shocked the community, and the Governor’s
compromise over the charges against corrupt policemen in 1977 aroused
the society’s doubts about justice.7 Cynicism about authority and tradi-
tional values grew. Local film critics argue that the popularity of social
satirical comedies, the police and crime genre, and strong violence in
martial arts films were all a response to Hong Kong society of the 1970s
(C.T. Li 1984b: 124–5). For instance, Michael Hui’s satirical comedies
present society as a crazy world where people relentlessly pursue material
pleasure.8 Zhang Che’s martial arts films show that violence is the only
way of solving problems and releasing tension.9 Li Hanxiang’s cinematic
representation of ancient China also accentuate images of sexuality,
corrupt authority and power struggles.10 Even though based on Taiwanese
writer Gu Long’s martial arts novels, Chu Yuan’s filmic adaptations of sus-
pense martial arts films11 are understood by Hong Kong film critic Li
Cheuk-to as a reflection of the insecurity of Hong Kong society following
the experience of economic prosperity. C.T. Li (1984b: 129–30) argues,
68 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film
Gu Long’s martial arts universe is characterised by a fear of politics,
authority and power; the relentless pursuit of materialism; the feeling
of insecurity once economic well-being is attained; the wanton feelings
towards women; and fatalism. All these parallel the psychology of the
Hong Kong people who regard themselves as a marginal people.

The popularity of Hollywood cop movies in the 1970s was one factor that
caused the ‘emergence’ of the police and crime genre in Hong Kong.
However, Hong Kong’s own political and social background also con-
tributed greatly to the popularity of the genre. Ng See-yuen’s Lianzheng
fengbao / Anti-Corruption (1975), Leong Po-chih’s Tiaohui / Jumping Ash
(1976), Alex Cheung’s Dianzhi bingbing / Cops and Robbers (1979) were
all based on local scandals involving police corruption, investigations into
drug dealing, and the complex relationship between law, morality, justice,
power and human nature. Police images were continually constructed in
relation to the political and social context of the colony. Danny Li’s Gong
pu / Law with Two Phases (1983), Huangjia fan / The Law Enforcer
(1986), Tiexue qijing / Road Warriors (1987) deal with stories of dedicated
Hong Kong policemen who not only face the tough reality of organised
crime, but also confront the difficult situations created by the British expa-
triate authorities and the Western-educated Chinese, who are more inter-
ested in their power struggles and promotion prospects than crime
investigation.
Throughout the 1980s, comedy and its various sub-genres – high-tech
comedy, Kung Fu comedy, action comedy, cop comedy, vampire comedy –
remained in the top ten of box-office takings. As comedy is commonly
understood as a genre serving a particular social and psychological func-
tion, ‘where repressed tensions can be released in a safe manner’
(Hayward 1996: 55), Hong Kong film critics argue that the popularity of
comedy responded to society’s anxiety about its future after 1997, and its
frustration at being unable to influence either the British coloniser or the
Chinese government over Hong Kong’s future (Film Biweekly, January
1986; N.K. Leung 1991: 18).
Similarly, changes in the police and crime genre responded to social and
psychological needs in society. After the mid-1980s, the yingxiong pian
(hero-triads-police action), fengyun pian (gangster-crimes-prison officers)
and xiaoxiong pian (historical and biographical triads-crime-police) genres
replaced that of police and crime. Typical films in these sub-genres are
John Woo’s Yingxiong bense / A Better Tomorrow (1986), Diexue
shuangxiong / The Killer (1989), Ringo Lim’s Jianyu fengyun / Prison on
Fire (1987), Longhu fengyun / City on Fire (1987) and Lawrence Ah Mon’s
Lei Luo zhuan / Lee Rock (I and II, 1991), Johnny Mak’s Bo hao / To be
Number One (1991). Although Wang Shen’s description below refers to
yingxiong pian, it can also be used to refer to the two other types of
movies, where:
 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film 69
1. The protagonist . . . is a triad gangster while his mortal enemy – the
police – is relegated to the background (or practically ignored); the so-
called ‘hero’ is a thief with a conscience. 2. Intricacies of the plot give
way to emotions and feelings. 3. Women play minor roles. 4. Style is
uniformly consistent.
(Quoted in Law 1997: 60–73)

These films feature brutal criminals glorified as ‘heroes’ through their

determination in fighting for their friends and loved ones. These types of
movie, according to Law Kar and Sek Kei, reflected the repression of the
local society, its frustration, and sense of crisis in the transitional period, as
Hong Kong lost its confidence and trust in both the British coloniser and
the Chinese government (Law 1997: 60; Sek 1997: 114–8). Beijing’s firm
stand on building the Daya Bay nuclear power station in 1987, the govern-
ment’s crackdown on the student democracy movement in 1989, and the
failure of the British government’s schemes to boost confidence in the
early 1990s all encouraged the society to construct a fantasy of superhero
outside governmental institutions. Law Kar (1997: 60) explains that within
the historical context in the triangular relationship, these films:

. . . imparted the theme of protagonists operating in the jianghu (a

society without laws’ protection) controlled by events. Society and
human relationships were unfair and unjust. Irrational solutions were
made. The audience certainly empathised with these feelings. [sic]

Chinese mainland film scholars agree with the argument that the popular-
ity of these movies in the crime-triads-police genre reflect Hong Kong
society in its transitional period. However, from China’s perspective, Hu
Ke (1994: 7) writes:

These films show the brutality of gangsters, but glorify their boldness
and courage. The films are not simply products that construct complex
characters of both good and evil. More importantly, these films reveal
some Hong Kong people’s mentality of fin de siècle. They want to reap
some profits from the particular historical period when power is in
transition from Britain to China, and when laws are not yet firmly
established. Of course, I do not mean that they will murder and rob.
At most, they have the desire of thieves but not their guts. Neverthe-
less, such ‘evil’ desire can only be released through watching these
types of movies.

The changing popularity of Hong Kong’s film genres responded to the

colony’s political and social changes, which were in turn affected by
changes in the triangular relationship. However, this is not the only
characteristic of Hong Kong film genres. They are also significant for their
70 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film
sustaining of Chinese cultural identity. For instance, the internationally
best known Hong Kong genre, the martial arts film, was developed in the
colony after it was transplanted from Shanghai in the 1930s. The genre has
always relied on China for its source material. Even when films were based
on adaptations of local martial arts novels, these films employed China’s
cultural signs and were set against China’s historical background. Hong
Kong’s voice is articulated through its interpretation, modification and
construction of China’s history, mythology and society. As martial arts
films are generally perceived as fantasy, Ann Hui explains that the genre
enables her to express views that could not be represented through other
genres. Based on local writer Jin Yong’s martial arts novels, Ann Hui’s
films, Shujian enchou lu / Romance of Book and Sword I and II (1987),
reveal Hong Kong’s perspective on the notions of guojia (country) and
minzu (ethnically defined and/or geopolitical culturally defined commun-
ity) in the transitional period.12 Similarly, against China’s historical back-
ground of the late nineteenth century, Tsui Hark’s series of Huang
Feihong / Once Upon a Time in China (1991–4) reflect Hong Kong’s
perspective on its position between West and East, and Hong Kong’s role
in modernising China (F. Luo 1995: 29–33). Through presenting both the
West’s perspective on China and China’s understanding of the West, Tsui
Hark’s reconstruction of China’s history produces an allegory of Hong
Kong’s dual sense of belonging to both.
Hong Kong’s dual cultural identity is also evident in the popularity of
Chinese ghost or vampire film genres in the 1980s. The genre presents a
distinct ethnic Chinese cultural identity through various signs of folk
culture, and signs of Taoism and Buddhism. At the same time, the genre
reveals Hong Kong’s complex feelings towards China. Sek Kei (1991: 57)
argues:

The ghost story pandered to the prevalent sense of crisis felt by Hong
Kong people. The characters of Chinese ghosts personified the fear
with which Hong Kong people viewed their cousins from the Main-
land. Nevertheless, Hong Kong Chinese still maintained a profound
connection with the Mainland, although through a love and hate rela-
tionship. Their distrust of the Chinese was hence reserved for the ‘evil’
ghosts but they showed a happy face to ‘good’ ghost. A film with the
‘good’ ghost characters, The Happy Ghost (1984) was one of the most
commercially successful pictures in the ’80s.

Equally, the Kung Fu comedy genre presents the duality of Hong Kong
cultural identity. Ng Ho and Chan Ting-ching argue that Kung Fu comedy
is a film genre derived from Hong Kong’s capitalist and local popular
culture. The genre is characterised as reflecting the values of a modern
society, displaying modern attitudes and speaking in fashionable idioms
(Ng 1993: 139–46; T.C. Chan 1980: 147–8). At the same time, generic
 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film 71
conventions, such as narratives set against the historical background of
China, still remain, for instance, in the films of Sammo Hung’s Zan xian-
sheng yu Zhao Qianhua / Warriors Two (1978), and Jackie Chan’s Shexing
diaoshou / Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow (1978), and Shidi chuma / The
Young Master (1980).
Further, the duality of Hong Kong cultural identity is evident in the
changes in the genres’ different representations of Hong Kong for differ-
ent markets. For instance, Jackie Chan’s comedies are becoming more and
more internationalised to suit the mainstream market in the West. In this
respect, Hong Kong comedies are quite different from other national
films. Typically, the success of a national film in the Hollywood-dominated
international market depends largely on its ‘success’ in representing its
national cultural specificity. But the success of Jackie Chan’s comedies in
the international market, on the contrary, demonstrates another side to
the argument. In the 1990s, most of his internationally successful films are
about stories that happen overseas. Although claiming himself to be of
Hong Kong origin in his films, Jackie Chan ‘travels’ around the world to
‘solve problems’ other than those of Hong Kong, as, for instance, in
Feiying jihua / Operation Condor (1991), Hongfan qu / Rumble in the
Bronx (1995), Jiandan renwu / First Strike (1996), Yige haoren / Mr. Nice
Guy (1997). Leading Hong Kong Kung Fu film stars, for instance, Michelle
Yeoh in Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) and Sammo Hung in the television
series Martial Law (1997) have each taken on the roles of a mainland
Chinese agent and a Shanghai policeman, respectively, in Hollywood pro-
ductions. Thus by representing themselves as mainland Chinese Yeoh and
Hung offer the West a more ‘authentic’ version of Chineseness. Once
again, Hong Kong’s ‘image’ in the international market has to rely on its
identification with China.
By contrast, other Hong Kong comedies are locally oriented and
focused. Some degree of ‘localisation’ excludes the mainland, Taiwan and
overseas Chinese spectators. An example of this type is from the series of
Stephen Chiau’s wulitou films (films of nonsense) of the late 1980s and the
1990s.13 His films cannot really be enjoyed by Chinese spectators outside
Hong Kong, as the films depend heavily on the use of Cantonese slang,
which, in Linda Chiu-han Lai’s words, ‘demands up-to-date knowledge of
contemporary linguistic practice and an appreciation for the comic defa-
miliarization of ordinary popular language’ (Lai 1997: 95). The popularity
of Stephen Chiau’s wulitou reveals Hong Kong’s desire to preserve its own
cultural identity on the eve of its return to China. Whilst other national
films are more aware of presenting national specificity in order to share
the international market with Hollywood, Hong Kong cinema appears
rather to reconstruct Hong Kong’s identity in the international market,
and yet to reinforce its cultural specificity in the domestic Chinese market.
This characteristic reveals Hong Kong’s different perceptions of self.
These contradictory perceptions of self generate Hong Kong cultural
72 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film
identity as quasi-national: on the one hand, through identification with
Chinese cultural identity so that the special character of Hong Kong is
assured in the international market and, on the other hand, through distin-
guishing itself from China by its exclusivity, a distinctiveness especially in
the films targeted for domestic spectators.

Codes and conventions

Codes and conventions refer both to the way that films are made and to
the way that films present national identity. In Chapter 3, I remarked that
a system of collaboration between independent film production which
relied on majors for distribution and exhibition emerged in the mid-1970s.
This system continued to be popular in the 1980s. However, as more exhi-
bition chains that are not controlled by production companies have been
formed in the 1990s, there are more independent films made without
relying on, for instance, Golden Harvest. In general, Hong Kong films are
made by producer- or director-oriented independent film companies, such
as Tsui Hark’s Workshop, Hui Brothers and Johnny Mak’s Production.
Usually these companies have their own, relatively stable, crew members,
and they produce films adopting certain types of narrative, genre and cine-
matic style. They distribute and exhibit their products through Golden
Harvest, Mandarins, Newport and other exhibition chains.
Codes and conventions in the ‘iconography of the image’ (Hayward
1993: 11) that represent a ‘nation’ emphasise the binary paradigms of visi-
bility – who and what represents the nation, and who and what is absent.
Hayward argues that ‘the iconography of the image generates a series of
binary paradigms of which the first is absence/presence’. Convention, on
the other hand, is defined as a textual or social practice shared by
members of the culture or subculture.
In cinematic representations of Hong Kong’s identity, the most notice-
able signifying principle is the binary code in which Hong Kong is defined
in relation to the British coloniser and to the Chinese motherland, as a
geopolitically defined national community or in terms of ethnicity. The
mobility between the two is, indeed, subject to change in the triangular
relationship in different historical contexts. In the mid-1980s, Hong Kong’s
fear that China would destroy the colony’s capitalist lifestyle after 1997
highlighted the tension within the binary code in relation to China. Con-
ventionally, China was represented by a series of signs signifying a Com-
munist geopolitical nation: Red Guards, Communist security officers, third
world peasants and illegal migrants. All these signs emphasise the terri-
tory’s political and economic systems and legal rights as different from
those of China, which therefore generated and accentuated the notion of
Hong Kong citizenship. Consequently, a shared ethnic cultural identity
and tradition with China has become less important.
Similarly, Hong Kong’s ambiguous relationship with the British
 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film 73
coloniser is also reflected through its representations of the coloniser, of
Hong Kong Chinese and the British coloniser’s common past, their shared
legal and economic systems, and their difference in ethnic identity, as for
instance, in Jackie Chan’s series of A jihua / Project A. In the 1990s,
affected by the demise of British influence and closer economic ties with
China, Hong Kong’s cultural identity was modified. A sense of shared
ethnic identity with China was foreground in comparison with filmic
representations of the 1980s. This characteristic of vacillating between its
identification with the British colony and the Chinese motherland reflects
Hong Kong’s quasi-national status and demonstrates how crucial the trian-
gular relationship was to the varying constructions of Hong Kong. I will
elaborate this argument further by detailed film analyses in the next two
chapters.

Gesturality and morphology

As film acting is shaped by traditions of performance, gesturality and mor-
phology articulate national identity (Hayward 1993: 12). In his compara-
tive study of Mandarin and Cantonese films in the 1950s and 1960s, Li
Cheuk-to (1983: 64) notes that Mandarin film performance tended to be
formal; expression tends to be ‘exaggerated’ ‘but well controlled’, and
‘avoids a direct outpouring of emotions’. In comparison, ‘Cantonese acting
stresses naturalness’ and ‘immediacy’ – ‘their lines are more colloquial,
weeping seems more convincing’.
The difference between Mandarin and Cantonese film performance was
further accentuated in the 1960s and 1970s. While the relationship
between film and Cantonese opera became looser in the British colony,
film acting in China was influenced by the Communist government’s
obsession with political propaganda. In general, ‘method acting’ is popular
in China as film actors are trained in the teaching of Konstantin
Stanislavsky (X.L. Zheng 1986: 258–76; Hou 1995: 90–5), which requires a
performer to enter a role from inside, to be emotionally engaged and to
identify with the character he/she is playing.
Generally, film acting in Hong Kong is perceived as ‘less professional’,
‘less trained’, ‘less formal’ but more alive, vivid and closer to life (Law
1985: 10–12). As Hayward (1993: 12) argues, ‘gestures, words, intonations,
attitudes, postures’ are all ‘deeply rooted in a nation’s culture’; film
performance in Hong Kong is broadly influenced by Southern Chinese or
Cantonese culture. Historically, the Cantonese region has long been more
economically developed and more commercialised than the northern hin-
terland. Located along the coast, with direct influence from the West, its
commercial, trading and entrepôt culture brought to Cantonese culture a
sense of an openness and flexibility. Linguistically, Cantonese is a type of
dialect which contains a variety of slang. The dialect is ‘unrefined’, insofar
as expressions are more straightforward, plain and ‘vulgar’. These
74 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film
characteristics of Cantonese culture have influenced Hong Kong film
performance in the actors’ use of words, particularly their intonation of
Cantonese, whilst their body language tends to be more ‘comic’ and,
perhaps, more ‘close to life’ in comparison to China’s film performances.
However, though differences exist in film performance between Hong
Kong and China, Cantonese culture is part of Chinese culture; thus, Hong
Kong film actors’ gesturality and morphology also have features that
overlap with those of China’s film performances. For example, Jackie
Chan and Sammo Hung’s acting style is influenced by their training in
Beijing opera; their performance is perceived from a Western perspective
as a distinctly Chinese Kung Fu one.

The star as sign

Like star images in other national cinemas, Hong Kong film stars repre-
sent the local community in two major ways: their images on screen, and
their ‘life dramas’ being produced by other popular media. As someone
who was born in the United States, grew up in Hong Kong, and perhaps
never visited China, Bruce Lee nevertheless represents a more ‘authentic’
Chinese image than the mainland-born Michael Hui, who is an icon of the
average Hong Kong man. One of the main reasons for this paradox is the
kind of characters they play in their films. In his three internationally
known films, Tangshan da xiong / The Big Boss (1971), Jingwu men / Fist
of Fury (1972) and Menglong guo jiang / The Way of the Dragon (1972),
Bruce Lee is constructed as an ‘authentic’ Chinese Kung Fu master. On
the other hand, although Michael Hui played his first successful film char-
acter as a warlord in Li Hanxiang’s Da junfa / The Warlord (1972), his
more popular images in Guima shuangxing / Games Gamblers Play (1975),
Tiancai yu baichi / The Last Message (1976), Maishen qi / The Contract
(1978), Jitong yajiang / Chicken and Duck Talk (1989), present a selfish,
mean and materialistic Hong Kong man who keeps trying to get rich by
taking advantage of others. Even when Michael Hui acts as mainland char-
acters in Hejia huan / Mr. Coconut (1989) and Qigai yingxiong / Hero of
the Beggars (1992), his traits of greed and desire for wealth remain (Q.W.
Chen 1992: 98).
Like Bruce Lee and Michael Hui in the 1970s, Jackie Chan and Chow
Yun-fat were the ‘super’ stars of 1980s’ Hong Kong. Both of them have
played a variety of Hong Kong characters. Jackie Chan is known as a
Hong Kong policeman from his series of Jingcha gushi / Police Story
(1985, 1988, 1992), and Chow Yun-fat’s unrestrained, wild working-class
hero is exemplified in Along de gushi / All About Ah Long (1989) and
gangster in Yingxiong bense / A Better Tomorrow (1986), Diexue
shuangxiong / The Killer (1989) and Jianyu fengyun/ Prison on Fire (1987).
More significantly, these characters show their commitment to Hong Kong
and identify themselves as members of Hong Kong society. Performing as
 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film 75
a Hong Kong coast guard and policeman, Jackie Chan mocks the
coloniser, teases authority, refuses to join the Chinese national revolution,
but faithfully serves the people of Hong Kong in his series of Project A. In
Gongzi duo qing / The Greatest Lover (1988), Chow Yun-fat is proud to
show his ethnic Chinese identity when replying to the Hong Kong Gover-
nor in Chinese. Another internationally known film star, Maggie Cheung,
also performs a number of characters who identify with Hong Kong. In
Ann Hui’s Ketu qiuhen / Song of the Exile (1990), Cheung plays a woman
of Chinese and Japanese origin, who was born and grew up in Manchu,
was educated in Britain, but chooses Hong Kong as her ‘home’.
The images of these stars, Jackie Chan, Chow Yun-fat and Maggie
Cheung catered for the social and psychological needs of Hong Kong
during the period of transition from British to Chinese rule. In their films,
Jackie Chan and Chow Yun-fat do not fight for ideology, for the unity of a
country, but stand up firmly for justice, for their friends and for the people
who need help. Their images provided Hong Kong people with a sense of
self in confrontation with the British coloniser and the Chinese govern-
ment.
Their ‘life stories’ in promotional events, and through the publicity,
gossip column and talk show media also construct Jackie Chan, Chow
Yun-fat, and Maggie Cheung as members of the Hong Kong community.
Stories of Jackie Chan and Chow Yun-fat’s working-class family back-
grounds and their hard working nature are frequently reported in the
media as a reflection of Hong Kong’s emergence from an overcrowded
refugee slum to a prosperous cosmopolitan society. Jackie Chan and Chow
Yun-fat’s commitment to fund raising for Hong Kong charities in the
1980s and 1990s has become a feature of their star status. Their life stories
have also become material for cultural workers to produce Hong Kong
community history. The popular film Qi xiaofu / Painted Face (1988) is
based on the childhood and teenage years of Jackie Chan and another
Kung Fu star, Sammo Hung, in the 1950s and 1960s. Stories of Chow Yun-
fat’s training, performance in television drama serials in the 1970s and of
Maggie Cheung’s experience as runner-up in the Miss Hong Kong pageant
in 1983 all became popular cultural signs of Hong Kong community know-
ledge. These images signify a Hong Kong community whose popular
culture was different both from the official and popular cultures of main-
land China and the West.
On the other hand, Jackie Chan, Chow Yun-fat and Maggie Cheung
have also performed roles that somehow represent more than just Hong
Kong. In 1994, Jackie Chan’s Zui Quan II / Drunken Master II presents
Chan as a Chinese nationalist who fights against the British ambassador
and the merchants who have stolen the national treasures of Chinese
antiques. In 1988, Chow Yun-fat performs as a mainland migrant in Hong
Kong in Gongzhi duo qing / The Greatest Lover. His departure from
Hong Kong for Hollywood in 1995 sees the change in his image from
76 Cultural specificity of quasi-national film
representing Hong Kong to portraying a variety of images, including King
Mongkutt of Siam in Anna and the King (1999). Maggie Cheung also per-
forms a role as an illegal mainland migrant in Clara Law’s Aizai biexian
jije / Farewell China (1994). Her performance as a mainland Cantonese
woman in Peter Chan’s Tianmimi / It is almost a love story, comrade (1996)
even won her the best actress awards in the Hong Kong Golden Film
Awards. In comparison to the mainland star images of Gong Li, Ge You
and Jiang Wen, images of Hong Kong film stars are more flexible in repre-
senting different geopolitical Chinese communities. Their ‘unfixed’ images
once again reinforce the duality of Hong Kong’s quasi-national identity.
As cultural identity is constructed and inevitably unstable, the next two
chapters focus on textual constructions of Hong Kong’s nationhood, and
develop further the point of this chapter: that the film narratives of
1980–1997 produced a dual cultural identity for Hong Kong. Chapters 5
and 6 look at how cinematic textual constructions of Hong Kong nation-
hood generate Hong Kong’s quasi-national identity, both excluding and
including China, and, broadly, defining and redefining boundaries in the
triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the Chinese mother-
land and Hong Kong.
5 Hong Kong films
Cinematic constructions of Hong
Kong history and territory

This and the following chapter offer textual analyses of cinematic con-
structions of Hong Kong nationhood. As representations of the past and
the territory of a country are two significant means of constructing a sense
of nation, this chapter focuses on cinematic constructions of Hong Kong’s
history and territory. It argues that narratives about the past and the terri-
tory of Hong Kong confront the spectator with cinematic texts represent-
ing Hong Kong as a nation: the British colony not as part of China but as a
geopolitically defined community that could only articulate itself in rela-
tion to the triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the
Chinese motherland and Hong Kong.
This chapter suggests that filmic constructions of Hong Kong’s history
and territory are similar to other nations’ constructions of their national
histories and territories. In general, a national history presents the signific-
ance of a nation in two broad and sometimes overlapping ways: it presents
an historically indigenous community or/and it explains how groups of
people from other places have gathered in one place and developed into a
national community. Narratives of the past and of the territory of Hong
Kong similarly present the British colony as an historically indigenous
community, and as a community that developed from collections of
refugees and migrants. However, unlike other nations’ constructions of
their national histories and territories, constructions of Hong Kong history
and territory are inextricably interwoven with a representation of the tri-
angular relationship between the British coloniser, the Chinese mother-
land and the territory. This ‘imperfection’ in the process of
nation-construction produces the British colony as the embodiment of a
quasi-nation.
This claim is presented in two sections, the first of which discusses the
idea that images of the past and of the territory of a country contribute to
the construction of the concept of nation. The second section offers textual
analyses of cinematic constructions of Hong Kong history and territory in
four films: Jackie Chan’s A jihua / Project A (1982) and its sequel, A jihua
(II) / Project A (II) (1987), Allen Fong’s Fuzi qing / Father and Son (1981),
and Ann Hui’s Ketu qiuhen / Song of the Exile (1991).
78 Constructions of history and territory
History, territory and nation
History and territory define a nation. According to Anthony Smith, a
nation must possess a defined territory, not any territory, but a geopoliti-
cally defined territory, which enables the community to form a historical
association with it (Smith 1991: 9). In his study The Ethnic Origins of
Nations, Smith (1989: 183) argues that writing history and territory into
‘historic’ land, ‘homeland’ or the ‘cradle of our people’ produces a sense of
the nation. He notes:

There are two ways in which the community can be located and its
‘true state’ revealed: through poetic spaces and golden ages. The first
involves the use of landscape, the second the use of history. The one
roots the community in its distinctive terrain; the other charts its
origins and flowering in the age of heroes. Both together provide a
history and metaphysic of the individuality of the community, from
which an ethic of regeneration issues to lead it forward.

Writing about the history of a nation produces its cultural identity. The
history of a nation does not reveal the ‘true’ past of that community.
Instead, it is a response to the present, in the words of Andrew Higson
(1997: 41), ‘as the transference of present values on to the past as imagi-
nary object’. The history of a nation is also a blueprint for the future
(Smith 1989: 182). It not only explains how groups of people developed
into a nation, but it provides ‘a visionary goal’ which offers some kind of
stability whenever the community faces a crisis. In the process of defining
and strengthening a nation’s entity, national history serves a particular
function. Smith (1989: 192) identifies eight ‘motifs and features’ of national
mythology, which provide community members a sense of self, and a sense
of belonging, authentic and secure:

1 a myth of origins in time; i.e. when the community was ‘born’;

2 a myth of origins in space; i.e. where the community was ‘born’;
3 a myth of ancestry; i.e. who bore us, and how we descend from
him/her;
4 a myth of migration; i.e. whither we wandered;
5 a myth of liberation; i.e. how we were freed;
6 a myth of the golden age; i.e. how we became great and heroic;
7 a myth of decline; i.e. how we decayed and were
conquered/exiled; and
8 a myth of rebirth; i.e. how we shall be restored to our former
glory.

Similarly, images of territory are always more significant than the actual
terrain. Arguing that ‘writing is constitutive, not simply reflective’, Trevor
Barnes and James Duncan (1992: 3) believe that the way we present the
 Constructions of history and territory 79
world ‘reveals as much about ourselves as it does about the worlds
represented’. Landscape is not, in Brian Stock’s words (1993: 317), ‘what
the eye can take in through one viewing, or what can be seen from a single
perspective’, nor could it, as Stephanie Donald (1997: 100) states, ‘in any
way [be] made ordinary’. Landscape is cultural representation, argued by
Stephen Daniels and Denis Cosgrove (1993: 59) as ‘the discursive terrain
across which the struggle between the different, often hostile, codes of
meaning construction has been engaged’. It partakes of what James
Duncan (1993: 39) identifies as the dualism between ‘to be represented (a
geographical place), and the site (the geographical, cultural, political,
theoretical viewpoint) from which that representation emanates’. The way
we portray our territory reveals our possessive consciousness of that
particular piece of land.
Film is a powerful medium, which produces a public space for the image
processes of a nation to develop. Cinematic images of a nation are con-
structed and presented through selecting, modifying and reinventing
historical data and geographical features. In a classic Chinese film, Huang
tudi / Yellow Earth (1984), Chen Kaige and Zhang Yimou construct the
cinematic Chinese nation through the juxtaposition of politically loaded
historical data: the Shaanbei landscape and Chinese mythology. The
narrative is set in the period of the Sino-Japanese war in the 1930s. A
Chinese Communist soldier and musician, Gu Qing, visits villages to
collect folk songs to transfer them into Chinese nationalist songs against
the Japanese. The historical period of the Sino-Japanese war signifies a
Chinese national community derived from its exclusion of the Japanese.
The chosen location of Shaanbei, the region covered by yellow earth
beside the Yellow River, reinforces the idea of the Chinese nation through
identification of natural features with historical sites. In Chinese mythol-
ogy, the region is the origin and cradle of the Chinese ‘race’, Yan huang
zisun (descendants of Yan di and the Yellow Emperor). It is where
Chinese ancestors ‘ploughed’, ‘weeded’ and ‘battled’ (K.G. Chen 1990:
559–60; Y.M. Zhang 1990: 574–8). In the mainland’s national history,
Shaanbei is the region where the Communists have been nurtured and
where the ‘new’ China, Red China, ‘the People’s Republic’, originated.
Images of Shaanbei embody the notion of ‘origin’. The landscape signifies
not only the origin of the Han Chinese ethnic community, but also the
birth of the Chinese Communists and the People’s Republic of China.
Geographic features, yellow earth and the Yellow River are historicised to
imply that nature is a rendition of the community’s history. Villages and
peasants’ cave dwellings are also naturalised to become part of the natural
environment in Zhang Yimou’s cinematic landscape. The filmic narrative
deals with the relationship between a peasant family and a Communist
soldier. The peasant family represents the Chinese people as descendants
of Shennong (God of Agriculture), whereas the soldier is an agent of
national politics. A modern Chinese nation is cinematically constructed
80 Constructions of history and territory
through the fusion of Chinese mythology, national history and geographi-
cal features.
There is, however, no single strategy for the cinematic construction of
national identities. While the significance of the Chinese nation is con-
structed by historicising Shaanbei, Australian national identity, for
example, is presented using different strategies. It relies on a dialectic rela-
tion between culture and nature, in which, ‘ “we” culturally define our-
selves on the side of nature’ (Game: 1990: 108). This psychic ordering of
nature as the Other derived according to Ross Gibson (1992: 1–18) from
the ‘conquistadorial attitude to territory’ of the early European settlers.
Gibson explains:

Throughout the last two hundred years in Australia, in effect, Euro-

peans have looked away from the habitat of civilization toward
regions that were seen to be uninhabited or uninhabitable. This
‘national introspection’ was always characterized by a keen anxiety. It
is not simply an uneasiness associated with the unknown, rather it is
an anxiety required by the myths of inversion and purgatory.
(Gibson 1992: 11)

The dialectical relations between culture and nature argued for by Gibson,
have developed in three distinctive stages in Australian films. The first two
stages occurred in the pre-1970s period. The first stage was dominated by
the attitude to the land as ‘object’ and as commodity. It is an attitude the
colonists associated with desire to control. The second stage is a series of
responses in tales and stories that ‘explain’ the laudable failure in dealing
with the land. In the 1970s and 1980s, Gibson argues that Australia
entered into the third stage where cultural treatments of landscape

. . . buy into the old myths of outback purgatory, [but] they do so with
a witty self-awareness, and more importantly they also treat the land-
scape not as an obstacle to be subdued, not as something unapproach-
ably sublime, but as something to be learned from, something
respectable rather than awesome.
(Gibson 1992: 17)

The dialectical relations between culture and nature are apparent in the
representations of Australian landscape in a number of internationally
known Australian films. A mysterious land takes, without trace, the lives
of three young women in Peter Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975); a
vast harsh land represents a woman’s self-reliance striving for independ-
ence in Gillian Armstrong’s My Brilliant Career (1980); and the dry red
land becomes part of the Australian identity in George Miller’s Mad Max
(1979), and Stephan Elliott’s The Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the
Desert (1994).
 Constructions of history and territory 81
History and territory in Hong Kong films
Establishing boundaries in the triangular relationship
Writing about the past and about the territory of Hong Kong is
fundamentally bound up with writing about the triangular relationship
between the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong.
This is not because the past of the British colony was developed in the
context of changes in the relationship. Rather, it is because cinematic con-
structions of the past reveal more about the present than about the ‘true’
past itself.
The idea that the text of history is a response to contemporary political
and social tensions is clearly demonstrated in Jackie Chan’s two popular
historical Kung Fu comedies about the early twentieth century of Hong
Kong. Project A (1983) and its sequel (1987) were produced during and
after the Sino-British negotiations (1982–4) over the colony’s future after
1997. These two films can be read as Hong Kong’s response to the Sino-
British Joint Declaration, which excluded the participation of Hong Kong
in deciding its own future after 1997. The two films reveal Hong Kong’s
perception of self in the triangular relationship, through drawing bound-
aries – boundaries between Hong Kong and the British coloniser in
Project A, and boundaries between Hong Kong and the mainland in
Project A (II). Images of Hong Kong’s past and of its territory in these two
films, in the words of Sek Kei (1988: 14), not only ‘bring up the difficult
social and political plight of Hong Kong in the transitional period to 1997’,
but also reveal Hong Kong’s perspective on herself as a ‘nation’ by estab-
lishing boundaries in the triangular relationship.
Jackie Chan’s two films construct boundaries that contribute to the
understanding of the British colony as a geopolitically defined community.
Set in the early twentieth century, these two films present stories of a
Hong Kong public servant, Sergeant Ma (acted by Jackie Chan), who
fights against British corruption, refuses to be influenced by Chinese
nationalism, and determines to serve the people of Hong Kong. The
narrative of Project A deals with Hong Kong coast guards under the
leadership of Sergeant Ma killing pirates in the South China Sea. Project A
(II) tells a story about Hong Kong police dealing with social disturbances
caused by mainland Chinese national politics and internal police corrup-
tion in the colony. To the south, Hong Kong coast guards protect the
‘Hong Kong economy’ from the threat of pirates. To the north, Hong
Kong police defend Hong Kong’s legal system, maintain the society’s
public order and reject China’s imposition of nationalism on the commun-
ity.
Both films present the Hong Kong community as a nation-state. It has
government institutions, executive committees, military force and police.
Although it is the British colony with the coloniser as head of the ‘state’
(or as head of a government department in Project A (II)), the films
82 Constructions of history and territory
present images of Hong Kong with few signs and events to suggest the
coloniser’s political and economic exploration or exploitation of the
colonised. The colony, in the early twentieth century, displays hardly any
signs of poverty. The place is dominated by European-style architecture,
hotels, bars, executive meeting rooms, along with a few traditional
Chinese scenes of tea-houses, markets and residential areas. Western and
Chinese costumes, army uniforms, women’s dresses and casual clothes are
both colourful and new. These cinematic constructions of territorial fea-
tures, together with a few confrontations based on racial difference,
suggest a pleasant atmosphere and lifestyle in the colony. Jackie Chan’s
comic performance, once again, reinforces the images of a healthy society
where people are, in general, satisfied with the way they are governed.
Both films present social sectors of Hong Kong that resemble those of
other nations, including the ruling class, the business or professional class,
public servants, and the working class. Hong Kong is governed by laws
with law-abiding citizens and criminals. Hong Kong’s political culture and
legal system enable an ordinary citizen like Sergeant Ma to challenge the
Governor in Project A, and also enables the community to distinguish
itself from the mainland Chinese in Project A (II). Both films present
Hong Kong as a self-regulating entity with internal problems of bureau-
cracy and corruption similar to those of other nations.
The boundaries in the triangular relationship are constructed through
the interaction between Hong Kong Chinese and the British coloniser, and
between Hong Kong Chinese and the mainland Chinese. Project A is
structured through drawing cultural and functional boundaries between
the British coloniser and the Chinese community. The film begins with a
scene illustrating how a lack of understanding of the Chinese language
provokes the Governor when dealing with a ‘debate’ between two Chinese
senior officers on the issue of whether Hong Kong coast guards should be
sent to fight the pirates in the South China Sea. The decision was,
however, a careless one, made without due consideration, because of the
Governor’s impatience and lack of understanding of the Chinese language.
The film also presents the Governor’s racial bias against the local Chinese.
After their vessels are sabotaged, the Governor dismisses Hong Kong
coast guards, and turns to Britain for help. However, on his way to the
colony, the British Admiral of the Royal Navy is captured by the pirates.
In order to rescue the Admiral and other captured British subjects, the
Governor is anxious to resort to any measure, including bribery. The Gov-
ernor’s action contrasts with his bureaucratic manner of ‘waiting’ for the
Chinese ships and fishing boats to be ‘rescued’ when they are looted. His
different reactions towards the British and the Chinese is pointed out by
Sergeant Ma: ‘Has the Hong Kong government paid even a cent to save
those people who were captured by the pirates before?’
The film implies that the coloniser is incapable of dealing with Hong
Kong’s affairs. Only after the Governor puts Ma in charge are the pirates’
 Constructions of history and territory 83
headquarters in the South China Sea bombarded and the captured British
group rescued. In the historical context of the film’s making – during the 2
years of the Sino-British negotiations about Hong Kong’s future – the
comedy offers Hong Kong’s perspective on the negotiations: a ‘pleading’
for the authorities to ‘trust’ the community to manage its own affairs in
relation to the 1997 issue.
Whilst Project A deals with cultural and functional boundaries between
the coloniser and Hong Kong, Project A (II) constructs boundaries
between the colony and China. The boundaries are established in the area
of political culture, given that Hong Kong is governed by a legal system
not shared by China. The film suggests that the mainland Chinese disre-
gard local laws and behave as though they are not subject to Hong Kong
laws when they are in the colony. Both the mainland revolutionaries and
the Manchu emissaries in the film are involved in ‘illegal’ activities in the
colony: they hold political public meetings, arrest people without inform-
ing local police, engage in and encourage local police corruption, and
impose China’s nationalism on the local community to cause public dis-
order. When the mainland nationalists invite Ma to join the revolution to
‘save Chinese minzu together’, Ma distances himself from them by stating:

I am the kind of person who always bothers with small matters. It

doesn’t matter how correct, how admirable my aim is, I will never
break laws to achieve my objectives [my emphasis]. In fact, I do admire
people like you, because you are the kind of people who can achieve
great aims. I understand very well that to overthrow the Manchu
dynasty thousands and thousands of people are required to sacrifice
their lives. But I dare not ask people to do so, because I do not know,
after so many dead and injured, what kind of result there will be.

The film reinforces the stereotype of the lawless mainland Chinese con-
structed through local popular cultural products from the late 1970s to the
early 1990s. In the film, the mainland revolutionaries work with corrupt
local police to achieve their political aim of overthrowing the Manchu
government on the mainland. When the Manchu emissaries are under
arrest by the Hong Kong police, a Manchu prince orders the Hong Kong
police to release his men ‘immediately’. His attitude is similar to that
described earlier by a Hong Kong senior police officer: ‘The problem with
these people (the mainland Chinese) is that they have no consciousness of
law’. His comment not only presupposes two types of Chinese – one in
China and one in Hong Kong – but also explicates a civic and territorially
defined Hong Kong community: the people of Hong Kong are all subject
to and conscious of its legal system, whereas the mainland Chinese are not.
Jackie Chan’s two historical films neatly reflect the triangular relation-
ship in the construction of Hong Kong as a ‘nation’. Hong Kong’s ‘nation-
ality’ is constructed through the concept of a geopolitically defined nation
84 Constructions of history and territory
in relation to China, and through drawing cultural and functional bound-
aries in relation to the British coloniser. This characteristic of reliance on
the triangular relationship in making sense of Hong Kong as a nation
reflects the ambiguous nature of that process, which once again produces
the British colony as the embodiment of a quasi-nation.

Hong Kong as a historical indigenous community

If writing an autobiography is a process of making sense of one’s life, and
seeking the answer to ‘who am I?’, then Allen Fong’s autobiographical
film, Fuzi qing / Father and Son (1981), provides the answer that Fong and
his generation are the descendants of Hong Kong. In Allen Fong’s
memory of his childhood and teenage years, China was absent and the
coloniser was invisible. His film presents no signs or symbols of China, nor
is there any political or cultural influence from China evident in the
process of Fong’s growing up. In the film, his family has no friends, rela-
tives, colleagues or neighbours who bear resemblance to the mainland
Chinese in their accents, gestures or the idiom they speak. His parents
have no particular memories about the past and no family or political cul-
tural connections with the mainland. No traces of the mainland are por-
trayed by their body language or their accents. The absence of China in
the parents’ generation suggests that the origin of Hong Kong was Hong
Kong itself.
The film also suggests that, while the British coloniser was invisible, the
colonial system was ever-present and affected the lives of everyone. In the
film, the father cannot gain promotion after many years of service, because
his oral and written English is not adequate for the foreign-owned
company where he is employed. English, the language that both are strug-
gling to cope with, is shown to be the area of study in which the father
supervises the son. Allen Fong explains:

The father forces his son to admit Western culture. Though the son is
not willing to, the father has to insist. Because that is the only way he
can lift the son’s social status [for the future].
(Film Biweekly no.57, April 1981, 24)

Father and Son dramatises the pressure that the local Chinese endure
under the colonial system, and the foreignness of the English language to
native community members.
The British colony is presented as a society deeply rooted in the
Chinese cultural tradition. It constructs a Chinese cultural identity through
the touching relationship between a devoted patriarchal father and his
introverted son. Ka-hing is not very bright at his school work. By the time
he is in year four, he has been expelled from three different primary
schools due to poor academic results. However, as Ka-hing is the only boy
 Constructions of history and territory 85
of his five children, the father insists that his son completes his education
at all costs. The father’s determination precludes him from understanding
that the son has a passion and a talent for making films. After completing
high school, the son tries to find work in a local television station.
However, the father insists that his son should complete a tertiary educa-
tion overseas, despite the family having to survive at a below-average
living standard. The father’s obsession for his son to study for a degree
results in the former marrying off his eldest daughter to pay for his son’s
university education, and in his ordering his second daughter to work to
support the family by not taking advantages of her perfect scores in her
tertiary entrance examination. Though Ka-hing expresses his strong objec-
tion to the father’s arrangement, he cannot bear to see his father’s disap-
pointment. Reluctantly, the son fulfils the father’s wish. Ka-hing gives up
his chances to work in a television station and leaves Hong Kong for uni-
versity in America.
Father and Son reinforces the Chinese cultural identity of the colony by
borrowing generic conventions from Chinese left-wing social realist films
of the 1930s and 1940s, and Cantonese melodramas of family relationship
of the 1950s. With a focus on a socially deprived class and the conditions
they had to bear, Father and Son depicts a common theme in family lunli
(ethic) relations – a social realist approach to the story of a patriarchal
father and his obedient son in a lower middle-class family. The film was
commonly recognised by Chinese film critics as one of the very few Hong
Kong new wave films that inherited and developed the Chinese cultural
tradition. However, the absence of China and the mainland refugees in the
film transforms the 1950s from a period that historically characterised the
tiny colony struggling to cope with overpopulated mainland refugees, to a
period that highlighted the aspects of pre-industrial and pre-technological
Hong Kong. It produces an historically inherited and territorially self-
contained indigenous Hong Kong community.
The film presents the social progress of the colony from the 1950s to the
early 1970s. In the 1950s, the family lives in a shabby wooden house in the
slums. Ka-hing’s family lives solely on the father’s wage, which barely pro-
vides a living for the family of seven. Ka-hing’s ill-equipped school is
located on the roof of a small building. After school, children run around
on the nearby hill, where they play in the bush, on the rocks and inside
derelict old houses. A fire accident damages the entire area of the slum,
including their shabby house. The family then moves into a public housing
estate, where the changed environment is depicted by a high density of
urban infrastructure. These contrasting territorial features, the 1950s slum
and the 1970s public housing estate, display the economic progress and
social change from the poverty of the 1950s to the economic boom of the
1970s.
Local spectators also view the film as displaying social changes in Hong
Kong. Allen Fong’s style of realism certainly leads to the preferred
86 Constructions of history and territory
reading of his film as a reflection of social change in Hong Kong. The film
was mostly shot under natural light on locations in a slum and public
housing environment, with the majority of actors being amateurs and new-
comers. The Director of RTHK, Zhang Minyi, comments that the film is
about ‘a period without television’ (Film Biweekly no.58, 16 April 1981,
12). In a similar direction, Yuan Huaishen, head of the Social Work
Department of Shuren College, comments that the film presents a period
in Hong Kong ‘before the public housing programme was established’.
Likewise, Li Mingkun praises the film as ‘representative’ of Hong Kong
society:

As we have seen, this family had difficulties in the ’50s and ’60s. It has
overcome difficulties, and become part of the relatively stable and
wealthy society of today. It has survived terrible living conditions in a
slum and has also experienced economic recession. The fire incident in
the film is representative. It shows how the public housing programme
began. The experience of growing up under pressure from family and
school was common at the time. It was possible to send children to
study overseas. There were always opportunities as long as you
worked hard. To me this film shows the process of change in Hong
Kong [my emphasis] from the ’50s and ’60s to the industrial and urban
society it is now.

The idea of Hong Kong as an indigenous community derives from Allen

Fong’s construction of a local sense of history and territory. This sense is
negotiated between Allen Fong’s memory of the past and his past as wit-
nessed by the territory of Hong Kong. His cinematic construction of Hong
Kong history is the background to his growing up under pressure from his
father, and his cinematic representation of Hong Kong territory reveals
the metamorphosis of the city from a slum to a site accommodating public
housing estates. History and territory correspond, in that the history
reflects the possessive hold of the community over the territory, and the
territory’s witnessing of the community’s development.
By identifying with the ‘natural historical sites’ of a slum in the 1950s
and of public housing estates in the 1970s, the film generates a particular
significance to Hong Kong spectators rather than simply presenting a
touching relationship between father and son. The film produces a history
of Hong Kong: how we grew up, how we experienced difficult periods, and
how our parents’ hard work brought us (economic) success. By eliminating
the role that China played in Hong Kong’s past, and by highlighting the
foreign nature of the coloniser’s culture, Allen Fong’s historical film
defines Hong Kong as a historical indigenous community of its own.
 Constructions of history and territory 87
Hong Kong as a community developed from collections of
refugees and migrants
In contrast to Allen Fong’s construction of history and territory, which
produced Hong Kong as an indigenous community, Ann Hui’s autobio-
graphical film, Song of the Exile, suggests that Hong Kong is a community
developed from groups of refugees and migrants who have been excluded
and rejected by their homeland(s). Her film does not focus on the
representation of Hong Kong’s past or of its territory as Allen Fong did
through his narrative about two generations of a father and a son. Instead,
Ann Hui’s narrative, depicting the relationship between a mother and her
daughter, explains how collections of refugees and migrants forged their
identification with the British colony because of their past experience with
China and Britain.
In the Song of the Exile, the daughter’s identification with Hong Kong
derives from her desire to become a member of the Hong Kong commun-
ity. Hong Kong does not nurture the daughter, Hueyin, as it did Ka-hing in
Father and Son. Hueyin is born in Manchuria and spends her childhood
and early teenage years with her grandparents in Macau. She goes to
Hong Kong at the age of fifteen, but leaves the colony after a couple of
years for a university education in Britain.
Hueyin’s desire to belong to Hong Kong develops only after she comes
to understand her mother, a Japanese migrant to Hong Kong. During the
last days of the Japanese occupation in the late 1940s Hueyin’s mother,
then in her early twenties, goes to Manchuria. She meets Hueyin’s father,
an ethnic Chinese army officer who speaks Japanese, and marries him in
China. She then follows her husband to Macau with their infant daughter,
Hueyin, to escape Chinese hostility towards them. However, her
husband’s parents also hold political and cultural prejudices against her
Japanese background. Hueyin’s mother cannot cope with the pressure and
cross-cultural difference, so she follows her husband to Hong Kong. In
accordance with Hueyin’s wishes, her mother leaves her 6-year old daugh-
ter behind, in the care of her in-laws. During her years of living in Chinese
society, the mother always identifies herself as a Japanese, longing for her
life in Japan, despite having adapted to a Chinese lifestyle in Hong Kong
society.
Hueyin’s understanding of her mother gradually develops with a
mixture of Hueyin’s own memories and her life experience. The first two-
thirds of the film deal with the confrontations between the mother and
daughter, each influenced by their memories of the other. In Hueyin’s
memory, her mother is cold, unkind and self-interested. She seldom
smiles, and often does things against Hueyin’s wishes, such as cutting
Hueyin’s hair for school. In her memory, the mother is irresponsible,
failing to perform her duty as a wife and mother. Her negative opinion of
her mother finally drives Hueyin to leave home at the age of sixteen for a
88 Constructions of history and territory
boarding school. However, her opinions of her mother change after she
accompanies her mother on a return to Japan, and witnesses the mother’s
painful experience of rejecting the belief that she belongs to Japan.
However, just as her mother has identified with Japan, Hueyin at one
time also believes that she belongs to Britain. In the film we see Hueyin’s
happiness and ease in dealing with the British cultural environment and
with her local friends. She describes her life in London as being ‘like sun-
shine’. We see images of her colourful and energetic youth, riding a bicycle
in a joyful mood with her British friends along the River Thames and
across Westminster Bridge. But after the British Broadcasting Corpora-
tion rejects her job application for an interview and her friend’s kindly
remarks that ‘there is something mysterious about the Orient’, Hueyin
begins to sense a difference between British subjects and British colonial
subjects. At one stage she types her nationality as ‘British’ on her resume,
she pauses for a few seconds, then pulls out the resume from the type-
writer, and throws it away. These ‘few seconds’ express the intimacy and
ambiguity Hueyin feels in her problematic identification with Britain: she
is British, but not quite. This ambiguity encourages her to leave London
temporarily for her sister’s wedding in Hong Kong.
Hueyin’s own experience of desiring to belong to Britain allows her to
see her mother’s painful experience of discovering for herself that she
does not belong to Japan. In Japan, the mother’s home village is open,
refined and tranquil. It is autumn in Japan where colours of dark green
and golden yellow are dominant. But the vast and refined landscape in
chilly late autumn also suggests the distanced human relations between the
mother and her home village. There are no images of a family reunion
being celebrated. Instead, a cool reality faces the mother: her elder
brother intends to sell the family property (where the mother had hoped
to spend the rest of her life), and the younger brother refuses to meet the
mother because of her marriage to a Chinese more than two decades
earlier. The experience of ‘being rejected’, however, allows the mother to
have a different perspective on Hong Kong – the place where she has
almost spent more time than her homeland, Japan. During her last few
days in Japan, the mother begins to complain of ‘cold’ Japanese food,
‘inconvenient’ Japanese rural baths, and longs to return to her ‘home’ for
‘warm’ Cantonese soup and a hot shower in her apartment in Hong Kong.
Similarly, Hueyin does not at first identify with Hong Kong. After her
grandparents return to the mainland from Macau in the 1960s, Hueyin, at
fifteen, is sent back to Hong Kong where her parents had settled. The film
presents her loneliness through images of her sitting apart from her
schoolmates, her flashbacks to the pleasant time spent with her grandfa-
ther, and her rebellious behaviour towards her parents. Her sense of
alienation is revealed by her refusal to identify with Hong Kong. Some
years later, when she returns to Hong Kong for her sister’s wedding,
Hueyin also presents herself as an outsider in her manner, dress and atti-
 Constructions of history and territory 89
tude. She is uninterested in anything around her apart from the English
news on television, which reports on events on the mainland, where her
grandparents are still alive. However, witnessing her mother’s painful
experience of frustrated longing for Japan helps Hueyin to choose Hong
Kong as ‘home’:

For the first time I worked with the people here. I closely monitored
their expressions and listened to their voices . . . I forgot about my
personal effects in England, my job applications . . .

It is this experience of ‘wanting-to-belong-to’ and ‘then-being-rejected’

that has brought refugees and migrants from different cultural back-
grounds across different generations together to identify Hong Kong as
home. Unlike Allen Fong’s Father and Son, which glosses over China’s
influence over the past of Hong Kong, Song of the Exile suggests that the
existence of the Hong Kong community was brought about by political
and social changes in China. Ann Hui believes that:

History does not make sense if we are taken apart from China. This
colonial past is just an interlude. . . . It is only in comparison to
Chinese culture – where we’re better, where worse – that we can
define Hong Kong culture. It can’t be talked of in isolation.
(Cinemaya vol.7, Spring 1990, 23)

China plays a significant role in Hueyin’s family. Hueyin’s parents migrate

to the British colony to escape Chinese hostility towards them after China
has won the Sino-Japanese war in the late 1940s. China’s civil war between
the Communists and the Guomindang has also brought Hueyin’s grand-
parents from Guangzhou to the Portuguese colony of Macau. The closed-
door policy after 1950 has further cut the colony’s cultural and social
connections with the motherland, as a result of which the grandparents
suffer greatly. Their nostalgia for their homeland and their political and
cultural identification with China encourages them to return. However,
similar to the experience of Hueyin’s mother, the grandparents’ return to
China also brings them unpleasantness and disappointment. Guangzhou
appears a dull city where people live a depressed lifestyle. On a cloudy
autumn day, Hueyin visits her grandparents’ small room, crowded with
basic furniture, in a narrow, dark building. With lighting from the back the
neighbours look distressed and unhealthy. The grandfather greets Hueyin
on his bed. A few days earlier, he had borrowed a collection of classical
Chinese poems, which caused the Red Guards to carry out a day’s investi-
gation into his activities. Subsequently, he falls down a staircase and is
paralysed.
Ann Hui does not focus on Hong Kong’s history or territory to the
same extent as Allen Fong and Jackie Chan. However, she constructs and
90 Constructions of history and territory
presents a history of Hong Kong community members. Her film can be
viewed as a response to the political and social tensions of the colony in
the late 1980s and in 1990, Hong Kong’s lowest point since the Sino-
British Joint Declaration. In 1987–8, the colonial government, in the eyes
of the Hong Kong community, manipulated a public survey result to post-
pone direct elections from 1988 to 1991, elections which would have been
crucial in assisting the colony to establish a representative government
before its return to China. To the Hong Kong community, Britain’s appar-
ent preparedness to accommodate the Chinese government betrayed
Hong Kong and failed to fulfil the common desires of the local people.
The sense of frustration and powerlessness increased. From 1988 onwards,
a growing number of Hong Kong residents prepared to leave the colony
by seeking the security of a foreign passport.
In this historical context,1 Song of the Exile responded to the social situ-
ation of migration from Hong Kong in the late 1980s. In her film, the iden-
tification of the parents’ generation with their motherland(s), and
Hueyin’s with Britain brings about the tragedy of longing for something
which, in Ann Hui’s words, ‘no longer existed’.2 The film responded to the
‘present’ situation in the late 1980s that the generation who longed to
belong to the West or who saw Hong Kong as part of Britain, would also
be ultimately dissatisfied.
Ann Hui’s film indicated a change in Hong Kong’s perspective on self
in the triangular relationship from the early to mid-1980s. Identification
with the British legal system in order to distance itself from China in the
1980s shifted to a seeking of different ways of identifying with the British
colony, by redefining the boundaries in the triangular relationship. Never-
theless, the triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the
Chinese motherland and Hong Kong remained crucial to the process of
constructing a Hong Kong history and a territory. The imperfect and
incomplete process of Hong Kong nation-constructing relying on the trian-
gular relationship produced a cinematic version of Hong Kong as the
embodiment of a quasi-nation.
6 Hong Kong films
Cinematic constructions of Hong
Kong’s quasi-national identity

In the previous chapter, I argued that cinematic constructions of Hong

Kong’s history and of its territory were inextricably interwoven with the
triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the Chinese mother-
land and Hong Kong. In this chapter, I study cinematic constructions of
Hong Kong’s geopolitical identity according to Anthony Smith’s ‘two
forms and concepts of the “nation”, territorial and ethnic’ (1989: 135). I
explore the extent to which cinematic constructions of Hong Kong identi-
ties lead to the notion of Hong Kong as a quasi-nation.
The chapter analyses cinematic constructions of Hong Kong’s geopoliti-
cal identity as exhibiting three characteristics of Hong Kong as a quasi-
nation. First, I suggest that a geopolitical identity is constructed through
identifications with the British colonial legal system, which excludes the
mainland, and with Chinese nationalism, which excludes the British
coloniser. This reliance on the triangular relationship in the process of
articulating ‘self’ produces a ‘nation’ lacking its own political power. As a
consequence, a quasi-national Hong Kong identity emerges.
Second, I contend that cinematic representations of Hong Kong’s
geopolitical identity appear vague and ambiguous. This claim appears to
contradict the point that Hong Kong is articulated through the triangular
relationship. Note, however, that the nature of cultural identity is usually
situational, contradictory and inconsistent. Nevertheless, the ambiguity of
Hong Kong’s geopolitical identity (especially when compared to other
communities, which are distinctive by virtue of their obvious geopolitical
identities) stems largely from the fact that Hong Kong’s identity crosses
geopolitical borders. This suggests that Hong Kong identity cannot be con-
structed in the same way as that of other nations; a quasi-national status of
Hong Kong appears to be more appropriate.
Third, I make the observation that cinematic constructions of Hong
Kong nationhood suggest that Hong Kong as a geopolitically defined
nation is not recognised as such by the international community. Hong
Kong possesses a hybrid identity stemming from British colonisation and
Chinese society. And yet, the very character of its distinct hybrid cultural
92 Constructions of quasi-national identity
identity has precluded its recognition as a nation internationally and has
reinforced its quasi-national status.
The chapter is organised into three sections. In the first section, I
discuss Stuart Hall’s two ways of understanding cultural identity with ref-
erence to Hong Kong. In the second section, I apply Anthony Smith’s ‘two
distinct forms and concepts of the “nation” ’ to analyse cinematic construc-
tions of Hong Kong’s geopolitical cultural identity in three local films:
Johnny Mak’s Shenggang qibing / Long Arm of the Law (1984), Stanley
Kwan’s Ren zai Niuyue / Full Moon in New York (1987) and Evans Chan’s
Fushi lianqu / To Liv(e) (1991). In the final section, I emphasise that Hong
Kong quasi-national identity is not fixed, but a cultural representation of
the triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the Chinese
motherland and Hong Kong constructed in a particular historical context.
As Hong Kong moved closer to its return to China, a number of Hong
Kong films began to reconstruct Hong Kong’s geopolitically defined iden-
tity by strengthening its Chinese ethnicity. The shift towards an emphasis
on Chinese ethnic identity has the effect of reducing the difference
between the disparate historical and cultural experiences of Hong Kong
and China, and contributes to the myth of a shared experience. This modi-
fied construction of Hong Kong’s identity as portrayed in the cinema is
nothing new. Since the inception of the film industry in the early twentieth
century, cinematic cultural representations of Hong Kong have consis-
tently progressed in line with changes in the triangular relationship
between the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong’s
self.

National identity and Hong Kong identity

National identity is, in part, a cultural identity constructed by a particular
national community within a particular culture (Smith 1991: 71–98;
Hedetoft 1995: 121–48; Richards 1997: 1–27; Hall et al. 1992: 274–316;
Foster 1995: 1–21; Balibar 1991: 86–106). According to Stuart Hall (1991:
41–81; 1990: 222–37; 1989: 69), there are two approaches to understanding
a cultural identity. One is to assume that a cultural identity is the essence
of one’s true self. It is fixed, cannot be replaced, and is ‘hiding inside the
many other, more superficial or artificially imposed “selves”, which people
with a shared history and ancestry hold in common’ (1989: 69). From this
perspective, the production of a cultural identity tends to strengthen the
links between the existing self and what is regarded as one’s ‘authentic’ or
‘original’ culture. This approach would see the production of Hong Kong
cultural identity through an emphasis on familial and ethnic connections
between Hong Kong and China. Moreover, such an emphasis reduces the
importance of the different political and cultural histories experienced by
both. The cultural identity of Hong Kong is, in the discourse of the true
self, always essentially Chinese.
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 93
The second approach to understanding cultural identity, in Hall’s view,
is a denial of the existence of any authentic cultural identity. Instead, he
claims, it is to perceive cultural identity as relational, incomplete and
always changing in the context of the political, economic and social envi-
ronments. In other words, this approach regards cultural identity as a
matter of always ‘becoming’ rather than of ‘being’. That is, cultural iden-
tity is not something which already exists or has been fixed. It is something
that is always in process. Hence, cultural identity is inevitably complicated
by impurity and contradiction. This perspective recognises the specific
cultural experience of the Chinese in Hong Kong as much as their ethnic
cultural background. It would view Hong Kong cultural identity from the
perspective of Hong Kong’s relationship with the British coloniser and the
Chinese motherland. Hong Kong cultural identity, then, is always a histor-
ical cultural representation produced in the context of the triangular rela-
tionship between the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong
Kong itself. The emphasis here is on the notion of ‘becoming’. This raises
the question of the extent to which Hong Kong Chinese are different from
other Chinese communities.
I follow Hall’s second approach to understanding cultural identity, which
seems to appropriately describe Hong Kong’s fluctuating character as
neither fixed nor exclusive. It is shaped within networks of social relations
that constitute Hong Kong’s environment. Cultural identity here is con-
structed in a diversity of forms within a particular historical context. As I
argued in Chapter 1, before the mid-1950s the Hong Kong film industry
produced a cinematic cultural identity that mirrored China’s politics and
society. Hong Kong’s cultural image was at that point constructed as part of
Chinese national identity in conjunction with a Cantonese regional identity.
It was projected from within the specific historical, political and cultural
context of the triangular relationship: free movement between the colony
and China, the colony’s system of dual policies for the British and the
Chinese respectively, and the influence of China’s nationalism. I pointed
out in Chapter 2 that, as Taiwanese and South-East Asian markets became
important to the industry after mainstream Hong Kong films were banned
in China in the early 1950s, a struggle emerged between Cantonese
regional identity and its Mandarin counterpart. With further changes
within the political and economic environments after the late 1960s – the
positive involvement of the colonial government with the local community
and the speedy improvement of the economy and lifestyle in the colony,
plus the growing influence of television – local critics argue that since the
mid-1970s cinematic constructions of Hong Kong indigenous identity have
emerged in response to the changed political and social environment.
From a historical perspective, the production of cinematic cultural iden-
tity in Hong Kong since the inception of the industry has always fluctuated
between Chinese national identity, Cantonese regional identity, and
Chinese Mandarin (guoyu) cultural identity. So how is this cinematic
94 Constructions of quasi-national identity
indigenous identity of Hong Kong distinct from those previous cinematic
cultural identities? How does Hong Kong’s indigenous cinematic identity
negotiate with those that preceded it? And in what ways does Hong Kong
indigenous cultural identity present the uniqueness of Hong Kong as a
political cultural entity?
Historians and social scientists have argued that national identity is con-
structed through a process of nation-building as the consequence of state
action and the process of modernisation (Smith 1989: 129–73; Foster 1995:
33–63; Hutchinson and Smith 1994: 132–59; Navari 1981: 13–37). Develop-
ments in technology, especially in communication systems, allow national
communities to develop on a larger scale. Market forces and the emer-
gence of administrative and political institutions break down traditional
familial and local ties, and thereby force individuals to rely on state institu-
tions for survival. The reinforcement of the idea of a common past –
through a monopoly over education, a universal national language, the
print medium, and national symbols and ceremonials – strengthen the cit-
izens’ affinity with their nation-state. Processes of mobilisation and com-
munication by means of the state system then reinforce an individual’s
sense of identification with the nation state.
However, ‘nation building’ in this colony displays a special complexity.
Neither the British government nor the Chinese government ever publicly
encouraged Hong Kong to become an independent nation. And yet, a dis-
tinct community of Hong Kong did develop after the closing of the
Chinese border in 1950, and after the colonial government made a positive
move to reduce the gap between the British and the Chinese communities
after the late 1960s. The colonial government carried out various political
and social policy reforms. These included localisation programmes to
allow more Chinese into decision-making bodies, and legislation to allow
the Chinese language to become one of the official languages. Further-
more, developments in social welfare policies in education, health and
public housing programmes contributed to the formation of a political cul-
tural environment distinctive to Hong Kong. This environment distanced
the Hong Kong Chinese from the Chinese on the mainland. In addition,
the colonial government also participated in and encouraged various inter-
national trade and art festivals held in Hong Kong to promote images of a
distinctive Hong Kong community actively disassociated from Communist
China (M. Turner 1995).
Hong Kong’s ‘nation-building’ was developed, however, without the
symbols of independent nationhood. Montserrat Guibernau (1996: 80)
identifies national symbols and rituals as being some of the most important
features in the construction of a nation or of national identity.

Symbols and rituals are decisive factors in the creation of national

identity. The nation as a form of community implies both similarity
among its members and difference from outsiders.
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 95
As a British colony, symbols such as the colonial flag and the anthem ‘God
Save the Queen’ signified Hong Kong’s colonial status. There was no ritual
in Hong Kong that was solely ‘of’ Hong Kong. Different organisations did
celebrate different political ‘national’ days: those of the People’s Republic,
or the Republic of China, or the Queen’s (Hong Kong) birthday. There
was no Hong Kong national military, but only the British armed forces
and the Royal Hong Kong police.
The process of construction of a national identity requires its citizens to
identify with a geopolitical nation-state. The construction of a Hong Kong
identity encouraged the people of Hong Kong to identify with the British
colony. At the same time, the local community did not regard cinematic
Hong Kong identity as British colonial identity but as Hong Kong indigen-
ous identity. How does this indigenous identity, established in the mid-
1970s, sit with the colonial status of Hong Kong before July 1997? How
did the production of a Hong Kong indigenous identity constitute for the
people of Hong Kong a sense of belonging, or even a sense of Hong Kong
‘nationalism’ within a world of British colonial symbols? One form of
Hong Kong nationalism projected itself as a distinct and indigenous polit-
ical entity, almost equal to a nation. Yet, this form also operated as a
defence of British colonisation, since Hong Kong was a British colony.
How does one tell the difference between Hong Kong colonial cultural
identity and Hong Kong indigenous identity? At what moment do they
become clearly differentiated?
As Anthony Smith (1989: 134–52) argues, national identity is con-
structed within two distinctive forms and concepts of ‘the nation’: an
emphasis on the geopolitical and legal system defines the territorial nation,
and an emphasis on myths of ancestry, common origin and descent defines
the ethnic nation. In spite of there being distinct features in these two
forms of the nation, all national identities contain some elements and fea-
tures from these two forms. Differences in national identities lie in the
extent and the emphasis of their formation. Furthermore, national identity
can shift towards one or another of the forms in different historical
periods.
From Smith, we understand that national identity depends on the
boundaries of geopolitical and ethnic identities to make sense. What
makes Chinese national identity distinct is that it is different from Japan-
ese, French or American national identity in the way that history and
ethnic cultural identities are constructed. In this sense, a national identity
can only make sense by defining itself against others. Other identities func-
tion as interpretative signs through which the self can be constructed and
identified (Hedetoft 1995: 91–120).
However, national identity does not necessarily have to be formed as
a singular identity. The self can also be formed through identification
with part of another identity. Hall (Bailey and Hall 1992: 20) argues
that national identity can also be ‘contradictory’ because it is always
96 Constructions of quasi-national identity
‘situational’. It can be constructed through an emphasis on a multiplicity of
identities in an apparent ‘kind of disassembled and reassembled unity’
(Haraway 1991: 163). In post-colonial experience, but also in all national
identities, it can also be constructed in hybridity. For example, a British
film My Beautiful Laundrette (1985) represents a British cultural identity
as made up of fragments from British–Anglo-Saxon and Asian–British
cultural identities. As Sarita Malik (1996: 214) points out: ‘we have been
offered a version of Britishness that does not necessarily belong to the
English.’ An Australian film, Strictly Ballroom (1992), also presents a
hybridised identity, in the words of Tom O’Regan, as ‘a European derived
society’ (1996: 306–7).
In the following section, I discuss the ways that Hong Kong cinematic
cultural identity is constructed from an historical perspective. I argue that
cinematic constructions of Hong Kong identity since the mid-1970s pull in
different directions, corresponding with Anthony Smith’s two forms of
national identity, and so produce Hong Kong’s quasi-national identity.
This cinematic quasi-national identity is differentiated from Chinese Man-
darin cultural identity and Cantonese regional identity, both of which
dominated the earlier period of Hong Kong diasporic cinema.

Quasi-national identity in a cinematic context

The desire for a distinct Hong Kong cultural identity did not emerge solely
from the historical context of 1997. In their studies of Cantonese films,
Leung Noong-kong (1988: 27–8) and Roger Garcia (1978: 36–8) argue that
the Cantonese film-makers sought to establish Hong Kong identity in the
1950s through the concept of home, and the notion of ‘settling a home’ in
Hong Kong. Leung elaborates his argument through his analysis of two
Cantonese films. In Mo Kangshi’s Baicuo mihun zhen / The Misarranged
Love Trap (1950), a happily married Hong Kong couple break up as a
result of the arrival of their relatives from the mainland. On the same day,
the wife’s brother and the husband’s uncle’s family of six arrive in Hong
Kong. By coincidence, they all move into the couple’s home. Their pres-
ence creates chaos for the couple, who each defend their own relatives.
When the uncle’s family insists on staying, the wife moves out with her
brother. For Leung, the film implies that the invasion of the mainland
Chinese destroys the unity of the Hong Kong community.
While only a few examples can be selected from the 1950s, Leung
argues that Hong Kong consciousness is also expressed through the identi-
fication with the British monarchy. For example, Huoshu yinhua xiangying
hong / Bright Night (1953) directed by Wu Hui, Cheng Gang and Zhu Ji,
deals with a story of how a Hong Kong man makes the decision to remain
in the British colony. On the eve of the festival which commemorates the
coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, this man steals some jewellery from
the company where he works. He intends taking the jewellery in order to
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 97
leave Hong Kong with his family. However, when his friend fails to
arrange a passport for his daughter, he is confronted with the decision of
whether to leave without his daughter or to remain in Hong Kong to keep
the family together. At this crucial moment, Leung (1988: 27) observes,

his wife evokes the vision of the Queen as the head of a nation
working for the happiness of her people to encourage her husband to
do the same as the head of his family. Zhang Ying is so moved by his
wife’s plea that he thinks better of going crooked and returns the
jewels to the safe.

It is this identification with the Queen as the head of the nation that,
Leung argues, prompts the protagonist to decide to stay in Hong Kong.
Although Cantonese films of the 1950s express an awareness of a Hong
Kong community, Hong Kong identity was essentially constructed as an
ethnic Chinese and a colonial identity. On the surface, Mo Kangshi’s The
Misarranged Love Trap presents the fear that the invasion of the mainland
Chinese would destroy the Hong Kong family. On the other hand, the film
can also be interpreted to suggest that the notion of a distinct Hong Kong
community is an illusion. After their mainland relatives move into the
couple’s home, both the wife and the husband furiously defend their own
relatives’ right to stay and oppose the other’s family members. Thus, it
could be understood that after all it is Hong Kong’s familial and cultural
connections with the mainland that constitute the essence of Hong Kong
cultural identity.
Only in the 1970s does the Hong Kong film industry begin to identify
the concepts of a geopolitical and legal-political Hong Kong community. I
will discuss this idea by briefly considering two films from the period,
which construct China as the other, and identify with the geopolitical terri-
tory of Hong Kong and the colonial legal system rather than the British
monarchy.
Zaijian Zhongguo / China Behind (1974), directed by Shu Shuen (Tang
Shuxuan), deals with a story of five tertiary students who flee China during
the Cultural Revolution. The film uses images of intense preparation by
the illegal migrants in Guangzhou, their troublesome journey crossing the
Chinese border, and their failure to adapt to the capitalist lifestyle of
Hong Kong. Through emphasising differences in political identity, China
Behind embodies the idea that Hong Kong is not part of China. Despite
speaking the same dialect, Chinese from Guangzhou cannot integrate in
Hong Kong society. China Behind dismisses the relevance of connections
with China by emphasising the significance of political inheritance. More-
over, none of the mainland refugees in the film have family members or
connections in the colony from whom they can seek help.
Ng See-yuen’s Lianzheng fengbao / Anti-Corruption (1975) is also con-
cerned with Hong Kong’s geopolitical and legal systems. The film is based
98 Constructions of quasi-national identity
on an actual police scandal in 1973–1974, when the deputy district police
commander in Kowloon, Peter Godber, was convicted of corruption. Anti-
Corruption tells the story of a British expatriate police officer involved in
embezzlement under the gradual influence of corrupt local Chinese offi-
cers. Though Anti-Corruption portrays a British colony with a colonial
government, the film presents positive images of the government’s efforts
in combating crime (Sek 1999: 163–4). The film constructs the British
colony as a legally structured geopolitical entity, wherein the British and
the local Chinese are bound by the same community laws.
China Behind and Anti-Corruption are pioneering films of the 1970s,
which develop the significance of Hong Kong as a geopolitical community.
This does not mean, however, that the construction of Hong Kong geopo-
litical identity has been advanced without any reference to Chinese ethnic
or the Cantonese regional identity. In the following section, I discuss three
major ways in which cinematic constructions of Hong Kong’s geopolitical
identity embody the notion of a quasi-nation. First, Hong Kong identity
appears as a fragmented identity, comprising elements of a British colonial
and a Chinese ethnic identity. Second, Hong Kong’s identity is projected
in relation to other geopolitically defined Chinese cultural identities.
Finally, the territory’s geopolitical identity has the hybrid character of the
British colonisation of a Chinese society. As I will argue through textual
analysis, what is common to these constructions is that they all imply that
the geopolitically defined Hong Kong community exists only as a quasi-
nation.

Hong Kong: A ‘nation’ without sovereignty

Johnny Mak’s Shenggang qibing / Long Arm of the Law (1984) provides
an example of how Hong Kong’s quasi-national identity is constructed
through the triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the
Chinese motherland and Hong Kong. In his film, concepts of border-
crossing, civic culture, state institutions, Chinese ethnic cultural identity
and Chinese nationalism are connected and contradicted. Mak projects the
British coloniser and China as the two powerful others in his film.
However, his construction of Hong Kong identity relies on both its identi-
fication with the colony’s geopolitical territory and with Chinese national-
ism. Through the colony’s identification with the British colonial legal
system, Johnny Mak establishes boundaries for Hong Kong which exclude
China, while through Hong Kong’s identification with Chinese national-
ism, he excludes the British coloniser. His film presents a distinct commun-
ity and quasi-national identity for Hong Kong. Its geopolitical identity is
quasi-national, because it can only be articulated through its identification
with the British coloniser and with the motherland China, as I suggested
in the previous chapter, through the ‘imperfect’ process of nation-
constructing. It is quasi-national, because Johnny Mak’s cinematic Hong
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 99
Kong represents Hong Kong as a nation which has no future claim over its
own political power.
Long Arm of the Law is a crime-police drama. The narrative traces
about 5 days of robbery and murder in Hong Kong by mainland Chinese
gangs. In the film, a group of mainland Chinese illegally enter the British
colony. With assistance from local triads they commit a series of crimes,
including the murder of a Hong Kong police detective. The Royal Hong
Kong police defend the colony by fighting back and killing the whole gang
in the Chinese territory of the Walled City in Kowloon.
The film was produced in 1984, and its release 5 months before the
signing of the Sino-British Joint Declaration in December 1984 touched
upon Hong Kong’s fear of China and Hong Kong’s anger towards Britain
over the latter’s handling of the 1997 handover. In the narrative, the
triadic configuration between Hong Kong police, the mainland gangsters
and the local triads is commonly perceived as symbolic of the triangular
relationship between the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and
Hong Kong (C.T. Li 1990: 171–2; Sek 1999: 80–3).
The film touches on three controversial issues that relate to public
security at the time. The first issue concerns the increasing number of bur-
glaries by mainland migrants in Hong Kong in late 1983. The second con-
cerns the use of arms by police on the streets in early 1984, and the third is
about the community’s reaction to the high levels of public violence
between the police and the local triads. During the Chinese New Year
period in 1984, a number of fierce confrontations between Hong Kong
police and the local triads shocked the public. The fighting sequences
between the mainland gangsters and the Hong Kong police at the business
centre and the Walled City in Johnny Mak’s Long Arm of the Law show a
remarkable resemblance to those incidents which occurred between late
1983 and early 1984.
Johnny Mak utilises these three controversial issues of public security in
his film. He rearranges them diegetically as a triadic relation between the
Royal Hong Kong police, mainland Chinese gangsters, and local triads. In
this relationship, the colonial police and the mainland gangsters are in
opposition, while the local triads function as a bridge between the two.
The relation of Mak’s filmic narrative to real events positions the spec-
tators as the concerned Hong Kong public of the period.
In Johnny Mak’s film, political identity is aligned with the geopolitical
territory in the British colony and with its legal system in order to establish
the boundaries with China. The major character, Lin Wei, is a general
commandant of the Red Guards Guangzhou Division during the Cultural
Revolution. In 1979 he had fled the country to Hong Kong, and was soon
granted permanent residence in Hong Kong. Since then, Lin Wei has com-
mitted a series of crimes, and the Hong Kong police categorise him as a
‘dangerous’ criminal on their most wanted list.
The film begins on 19 November 1983, when Lin Wei returns to
100 Constructions of quasi-national identity
Guangzhou to call upon his five ex-colleagues from the Red Guards to
plan a burglary in Hong Kong. A month later, on the night before the five
men come to Hong Kong from the mainland, they gather at home in
Guangzhou to affirm their team spirit and to wish each other good luck.
Under the dim light inside a sparsely decorated room, five middle-age men
sing passionately:

There is a fat baby in front of us. People say, there is no way to get it.
But this is not a big deal to us. A small river divides us into two differ-
ent worlds, and I am attracted to you.

Their style of singing resembles the Red Guards in their performance of

revolutionary songs during the Cultural Revolution. The phrase, ‘a fat
baby’, refers to the tiny but wealthy colony. The words, ‘a small river’
refers to the Shenzhen river at the Chinese border. When the sentence ‘a
small river divides us into two worlds’ is uttered, one character turns back
and looks directly at the camera, and the other two beside him also look in
a similar direction. It is as if these mainland Chinese acknowledge that
Hong Kong spectators are watching them. This unusual image builds up a
relationship between the mainland Chinese on the screen and the Hong
Kong spectators in reality. When the mainland characters sing to the Hong
Kong audience that ‘a small river divides us into two worlds’, they imply
that ‘our’ (natural) river has become an (artificial) political border that
divides ‘us’ (the Cantonese) into two different geopolitical territories, the
Chinese citizens of the People’s Republic of China, and Hong Kong resid-
ents of the British colony.
Using the Red Guards to represent the cultural identity of the mainland
Chinese stresses the difference in political identity between Hong Kong
and China. The term, Red Guards, recalls the two disparate political his-
tories of China and Hong Kong during the 1960s and 1970s. When the
national political movement, the Cultural Revolution, was launched in the
late 1960s, Hong Kong began a process of fast economic development
establishing an indigenous Hong Kong identity. Different political his-
tories indicate that Hong Kong, though a Chinese society, has a distinct
political culture. Moreover, Red Guards were both ‘criminals’ and
‘victims’ of the Cultural Revolution. Thus, the device of using Red Guards
to represent the mainland Chinese in Long Arm of the Law suggests the
threat of a mainland takeover.
The film presents the longing of mainland Chinese for the capitalist
lifestyle of Hong Kong, which highlights China’s socialist poverty. Just
before one of the mainland gangsters leaves to join his mates on their dan-
gerous journey across the border, his wife runs after him to complain that
he has forgotten to take the shopping list with him. Moreover, she reminds
him again of the brand of sunglasses requested by their relatives. Even
working as a nightclub prostitute with her sweetheart on the mainland, the
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 101
character of a mainland woman Ah-Cheng refuses to return to Guangzhou
preferring her ‘freedom’ in which ‘I can eat whatever I want, and dress
however I want’. After a week of ‘enjoying’ the capitalist lifestyle as illegal
migrants living in a barely furnished flat, and under intense pressure of
being caught by local police, the mainland gangsters’ desire for Hong
Kong grows even stronger. Longing to go shopping in Hong Kong results
in staying a few days more, and finally ends with their determination to
‘share’ the ‘wealth’ of Hong Kong by planning a permanent stay.
In fact, the Hong Kong represented on the screen contradicts the main-
land Chinese’ ‘perception’ of Hong Kong. In the film, Guangzhou is dark,
crowded and dull. Hong Kong is crowded, messy, noisy and is also crime
ridden. A kindergarten is situated next to a brothel and burglaries are
almost daily events. The day after having crossed the border to Hong
Kong, Lin Wei’s four colleagues begin to carry out their plan. Surprisingly,
when they arrive at the jewellery shop they plan to burgle, they discover
that the shop is closed for police investigation as a burglary had occurred
the previous day. However, the negative images of capitalist Hong Kong
do not affect the mainland gangsters’ perception of the colony. Their
desire for Hong Kong indicates that even though the colony is imperfect,
poverty in China is worse than capitalist corruption.
With China presented as the other, Hong Kong’s political identity is
constructed through identification with the British colony’s geopolitical
boundaries, legal and economic systems, and citizens’ rights. The question
of how Johnny Mak negotiates the shared ethnic Chinese identity of Hong
Kong and Chinese citizen is raised, however, when he constructs China as
other.
Johnny Mak’s construction of negative images of the colonial govern-
ment encourages Hong Kong spectators to identify with a Chinese ethnic
identity. In the film, the colonial government is represented by the Royal
Hong Kong police. On the one hand, the film suggests that the violent
killing by the police is a matter of performing a duty, of maintaining public
order by defeating the criminals. On the other hand, the film also implies
that their brutal killing is an abuse of power.
Long Arm of the Law represents negative images of the relationship
between the government and the local people. Images of the police
abusing their power predominate. After the unexpected police investiga-
tion of the jewellers, Lin Wei informs his fence Ah Tai, a Hong Kong resi-
dent, that they have to delay their plan for three days. While Ah Tai
agrees, he also makes another deal with Lin Wei. He pays Lin Wei
HK$50,000 to murder a man ‘who is always annoying’ him without telling
Lin Wei that the man is a police detective. Before the detective is mur-
dered by the mainland gangsters, we see him abusing his power by flirting
with a number of women. When Ah Tai is taken to the police station for
questioning about the murder, we watch him being abused verbally and
physically by the police despite the fact that they have no evidence against
102 Constructions of quasi-national identity
him. We might wonder how much mental and physical abuse Ah Tai has
previously suffered at the hands of the detective. Sergeant Li warns Ah
Tai that ‘the person who has been murdered is not an ordinary citizen, but
a policeman!’ His words clearly indicate that there is a difference between
ordinary citizens and the police, and that the difference will affect the way
that police perform their duty. In that historical context, Sergeant Li’s
words can also be understood as a comment on the Hong Kong commun-
ity’s place in the eyes of the British government on the issue of 1997.
Later, Ah Tai hands Sergeant Li a video tape on which Ah Tai asks one
of his men to record shooting the detective. Ah Tai is then forced to
become the bait to trap the mainland gangsters. When Ah Tai successfully
completes his task, the mainland gangsters also discover that Ah Tai has
betrayed them. Fearing his life is under threat from them, Ah Tai shouts
for help to Sergeant Li in his police helicopter, ‘Don’t shoot! It’s me, Ah
Tai’. Yet Sergeant Li gives the order to shoot him. At that moment we, as
spectators, remember Ah Tai fearfully begging for his safety, as well as
Sergeant Li’s request that Ah Tai show more confidence in the police.
Though Sergeant Li is an ethnic Chinese, in this context he represents the
Royal Hong Kong Police and the colonial government. Ah Tai had always
suspected that he would die at the hands of the mainland Chinese. What
he had not foreseen is that he would die under orders from the Royal
Hong Kong Police while assisting them.
The film reveals Hong Kong’s anger towards the British coloniser.
Johnny Mak ‘arranges’ for the colonial police to enter the Walled City of
Kowloon in his narrative. The Walled City used to be a densely populated
area on the Kowloon peninsula. It had been a small Chinese garrison and
administrative compound before Britain acquired the peninsula in 1862
(Lane 1990: 52–8; Tang 1994: 111–13). The Chinese imperial government
made the area a reserve under Chinese administration in the 1898 Con-
vention of Beijing. But the British government unilaterally amended the
treaty in 1899 and incorporated the Walled City into the colony. In the
1930s and 1940s, the colonial government’s intention to demolish the huts
and buildings in the Walled City was strongly objected to by both the
Nationalists in the 1930s and the Communists in the 1940s. Both groups
insisted that the colonial government had no right to evict squatters from
the area. After the signing of the Joint Declaration, the Walled City was
finally abolished in 1987.
Hong Kong Chinese spectators are led by Jonny Mak’s cinematic con-
struction to identify with ethnic Chinese identity. Like the Mainland gang-
sters, the colonial police also ‘illegally’ cross the border and enter Chinese
territory. Fiercely and brutally, the police fire at the Walled City without
considering the possibility that they might also kill innocent residents. This
sequence recalls the Opium War in Chinese national history, when the
British fired at innocent Chinese on Chinese land. When Li Cheuk-to
(1984a: 9) points out that the dead police in the Walled City are mostly
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 103
Anglo-Saxon, Johnny Mak replies: ‘There is always an unconscious excite-
ment about killing Guilao [the foreign devil].’
By establishing the coloniser as the other, Johnny Mak emphasises the
myth of the ancestral blood relationship between the Hong Kong Chinese
and mainland Chinese. In one of his interviews, Johnny Mak (C.T. Li
1984a: 9) talks about his contradictory feelings behind his construction of
the image of mainland Chinese.

From the perspective of being a Hong Konger, I dislike Daquan zai.1 I

discovered from my research that, in fact, their numbers in Hong
Kong are so high; they still cause trouble in society without taking any
notice of the law. I feel resistance to them. But strangely enough,
when [the uncertainty of ] Hong Kong’s future [the 97 issue] confronts
me more and more urgently, I think of [how] ‘ben shi tonggen sheng’
[we sprang from the same root]. We are all Chinese. The difference is
that they live on the mainland, and we are lucky to be born in Hong
Kong. . . . Gradually I start to feel that they are not all that nasty.

Johnny Mak uses Cao Zhi’s famous ‘seven paces’ poem to describe his
connection with mainland Chinese. Cao Zhi (192–232) is a well known
historical character in the novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms. He was
the third son of Cao Cao, the Emperor of Wei. After the death of Cao
Cao, the eldest son Cao Pei succeeded his father as Emperor of Wei.
According to the novel, Cao Pei feels threatened by his younger brother’s
talent. He devises a plot to order Cao Zhi to compose a poem within the
time taken to walk seven paces. If Cao Zhi fails, he will be punished with
death. Within seven steps, Cao Zhi rattles off the following poem, plead-
ing for his life:

They were boiling beans on a beanstalk fire

Came a plaintive voice from the pot,
O why, since we sprang from the selfsame root,
Should you kill me with anger hot?
Translation from C.H. Brewitt-Taylor (1959) Romance of the Three
Kingdoms, Rutland: Tuttle, vol.2, no.4, p.198.)

This poem has been widely used to refer to the ancestral blood relation-
ship between people.
The challenge facing Johnny Mak in 1984 was how to make Hong Kong
spectators identify with the mainland Chinese in a context in which Hong
Kong people faced returning to China in 1997. There was strong resistance
to the mainland Chinese, not only because of 1997, but also because of the
negative attitude towards illegal migrants from China and Vietnam.
Johnny Mak persuades Hong Kong spectators to see themselves through
watching the mainland Chinese in the film. On screen, the mainland
104 Constructions of quasi-national identity
Chinese desire a capitalist lifestyle and individual freedom. This desire is
shared by the people of Hong Kong. The reason that Hong Kong citizens
feared government by the Communists after 1997 was that they were
afraid of losing their lifestyle and freedom. On screen, the mainland gang-
sters spend their free time enjoying the fruits of capitalism. When a Hong
Kong prostitute refuses to have sex with one of the mainland gangsters, he
pulls out his gun and shouts at her in frustration: ‘Do it now! I don’t have
time!’. While the mainland Chinese live on ‘borrowed time in a borrowed
place’ on screen, the Hong Kong people live in their actual situation of
‘borrowed time in a borrowed place’. The similarity between the diegetic
world and the real world encourages the spectators to identify with the
mainland Chinese. Long Arm of the Law indicates that the people of
Hong Kong may not share a political identity with the mainland Chinese,
but the values of a capitalist freedom are desired by both.
In Long Arm of the Law, political identity, ‘the experience of living in
two different societies’, plays a more significant role than notions of iden-
tity based on ethnicity, class and gender. This reinforces the distinct
geopolitical status of Hong Kong as opposed to China. In the film, Lin Wei
is the leader of the mainland gangsters. His leadership was established in
the 1960s, long before the burglary in Hong Kong. Lin Wei sets up a deal
with Ah Tai, plans the burglary, directs the group, pays the expenses of his
followers in Hong Kong, and looks after their safety. As they did in the
Cultural Revolution, his mates follow him without question or challenge.
However, Lin Wei is slightly different from the rest. Having been
granted permanent residence in Hong Kong in 1979, Lin Wei finds it ‘diffi-
cult’ to understand his mates’ desire for Hong Kong. Each time one of the
gangsters indicates that they wish to stay in Hong Kong instead of return-
ing to Guangzhou, Lin Wei objects. He is more concerned about the
prospect of capture by the Hong Kong police. After the death of one
member in the Walled City, Lin Wei instructs the group to leave Hong
Kong immediately. One gang member refuses to follow Lin’s order.
Without being aware that the gang member speaks for the group, Lin
points his gun at the man to force him to move, as the police are approach-
ing. As he does so, the other two mainland gangsters point their guns at
Lin Wei. In spite of their shared ethnicity, gender and class, the bond of
‘brotherhood’ is strained by difference in political identity.
Long Arm of the Law constructs Hong Kong as a distinct community
through foregrounding its geopolitical status, through identification with
the British colonial legal system, and with Chinese ethnicity and national-
ism. The film presents a quasi-national identity in that Hong Kong can
only be articulated through the others of the British coloniser and the
Chinese motherland. It also reveals that Hong Kong is a nation without
sovereignty. In the narrative, the triadic constellation of the Royal Hong
Kong Police, the mainland gangsters and Ah Tai mirrors the relationship
between the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong.
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 105
Ah Tai is a metaphor for Hong Kong and his function is ‘trade’. He is the
‘dealer’ liaising between the mainland gangsters and local triads, between
local triads and the Hong Kong police, and between Hong Kong police
and mainland gangsters. He gains through ‘providing information’. He has
a distinct identity; however, his survival and future depend on others. In
this triangular relationship, the mainland Chinese have power to make
their own decisions – to enter Hong Kong territory and to leave. The colo-
nial government has the power to protect the colony by fighting back. Ah
Tai has no political power to claim a territory of his own and, furthermore,
he has no claim over the way political power should be exercised for his
benefit. Ah Tai represents Hong Kong – a geopolitically defined quasi-
nation has no political power of its own.

Hong Kong: a nation with an ambiguous geopolitical identity

The Hong Kong film industry has also produced a quasi-national identity
through narratives of the Chinese diaspora in the West. As a result of the
community’s uncertainty about Hong Kong’s future under the Chinese
government after 1997, seeking opportunities to migrate to Western coun-
tries became a social phenomenon after the late 1980s. Thousands of Hong
Kong people applied to migrate to America, Canada, Australia, New
Zealand and countries in Europe. But the majority could not afford to
leave. They neither qualified as political refugees, nor were eligible as
skilled or business migrants.
Influenced by this social phenomenon of migration to the West, Europe
and America became cultural spaces with which Hong Kong identities can
be explored. After the mid-1980s, it became almost a fashion for local film-
makers to create some sort of narrative connection with overseas, offering
a fantasy for local spectators to vicariously experience life in the West.
One of Jackie Chan’s popular films, Longxiong hudi / Armour of God
(1987) was shot in Italy, where the landscape of the local culture is as spec-
tacular as Jackie Chan’s Kung Fu antics. These films do not simply present
the ‘exotic’ landscapes of Europe and North America as tourist attrac-
tions, but provide pleasure for local spectators by giving them a sense of a
‘great’ Hong Kong. John Woo’s popular film, Zongheng sihai / Once a
Thief (1991) deals with a triangular love relationship between three Hong
Kong orphans who are brought up to be professional thieves. The film
stars three local actors: Chow Yun-fat (Zhou Runfa), Leslie Cheung
(Zhang Guorong) and Cherie Chung (Zhong Chuhong). The images of
these three glamorous stars in their red sporty car crossing Europe, skil-
fully and charmingly stealing art treasures from local museums, present
narrative images of ‘Hong Kong conquering Europe’. In reality, Hong
Kong could not even control its own fate after 1997.
Stanley Kwan’s Renzai Niuyue / Full Moon in New York (1988)
is another type of Hong Kong film that explores Hong Kong’s cultural
106 Constructions of quasi-national identity
identity through the landscape of the West. Unlike Jackie Chan and John
Woo’s mainstream production, Kwan’s Full Moon in New York is a local
film with input from Taiwan, the mainland and American Chinese in New
York. Three leading actors in the film, Sylvia Chang (Zhang Aijia) from
Taiwan, Maggie Cheung from Hong Kong, and Siqin Gaowa from China
are all film stars in their countries of origin. Stanley Kwan worked closely
with two well-known writers, the Hong Kong established script-writer of
Taiwanese origin, Yau Tai On Ping, and the mainland writer Acheng
(Zhong Acheng) who, at the time, lived in New York. In an interview with
a local film magazine, Stanley Kwan admits that his script changed several
times from an original emphasising three Chinese women’s friendship to a
depiction of diasporic sentiment and the experience of the Chinese in New
York. He explains:

In fact, the Mainland Chinese, Hong Kong Chinese and Taiwan

Chinese in New York tend to belong to their own groups. They get
together only on very rare occasions. They do not get together
because they are Chinese. This makes me think that our idea – three
women and conflicts is no longer significant. . . .
I want to make a film about the Chinese. Beyond the surface of the
three women is a story of the Chinese . . . it reveals the meaning of
their exile or nomadism (in foreign countries).
(Z.C. Zhang 1990: 18)

Full Moon in New York is filmed from the perspective of the diaspora. In
the absence of images of the Statue of Liberty and Christmas decorations,
New York is represented as a cold, impersonal, lifeless and colourless city,
a concrete jungle. The sky is foggy. Buildings stand side by side in the
misty, hazy air. Canyons between buildings viewed from a low camera
angle convey a feeling of oppression and depressing lifestyle. The three
dominant colours in the film grey, dark blue and white, present a gloomy
and sombre place.
In the film, New York people are just crowds, faceless and sombre.
Their dress is formal and their manner defensive. With background noise
of busy traffic, police and ambulance sirens, and images of Hong Kong
migrant Li Fengjiao being assaulted in the street, the city appears threat-
ening. There are three major images of local people in the film, each pre-
senting a negative impression of the city – crime, poverty and
Anglo-Saxon domination. In the early part of the film, Li Fengjiao is
assaulted by a street kid. Taiwanese Huang’s American boyfriend stays at
a rented house for several months without paying rent. When she is in an
audition, theatre directors appear to be particularly critical of her
performance. Furthermore, local American Chinese are constructed nega-
tively as mimicking Anglo-Saxon America in their American English,
their European-style homes, Western food, Western humour, their pre-
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 107
dominantly Anglo-Saxon friends and their ‘curiosity’ about China.
Throughout the film, the same message comes across again and again:
New York is a cold city where life is insecure and lonely.
New York is filmed from the perspective of the diaspora, and yet Li
Fengjiao shows no signs of cultural displacement. Being a Hong Kong
Chinese migrant, Li’s relation with the West neither resembles the
self–other relationship as the mainland Chinese Zhao Hong’s does, nor
does it demonstrate the fragmented identity of the Taiwanese Huang, nor
the element of mimicry of the American Chinese Thomas. Li has no
particularly nostalgic feelings for her original home Hong Kong; she dis-
plays no sense of superiority as a Chinese, nor does she need to mimic the
West. Her lifestyle in New York is similar to her lifestyle in Hong Kong. Li
continues to assist her father in the family business of running a Chinese
restaurant, while managing her own real estate business and stock market
transactions between Hong Kong and New York. She puts down any dif-
ficulties she encountered when she migrated to New York to her igno-
rance of fengshui. She explains to Zhao and Huang,

When I came here, I kept losing money on the stock market. Then
someone told me that since I come from Hong Kong, unless I blend in
with the Ch’i [qi] in this place, nothing is going to work. I was told to
open all the windows at night. New York is so noisy but I have to do
it. Then things really begin to work. So if you want to make it here,
you have to blend with Ch’i.

Diaspora links identity to spatial location. While both Zhao and Huang’s
identities are constructed through their identification with their home-
land(s), China and Taiwan, Li seems to identify with no particular spatial
location. She says to Zhao and Huang:

In my opinion, being a Chinese means owning property, a house in

Taibei, a house in Beijing, a house in Hong Kong, a house in Tokyo, a
house in Paris, and a house in New York.

Li’s attitudes are framed through different sets of criteria than are those of
mainland, Taiwanese and American Chinese characters. Li’s Hong Kong
political identity is ‘concealed’. There are no signs or symbols to indicate
any geopolitical identification with Hong Kong. In contrast, Zhao is tied to
memories of the Cultural Revolution, distinguishing her from the Tai-
wanese and American Chinese characters. What Zhao’s American
Chinese husband, Thomas, fails to understand about Zhao’s constant
requests to bring her mother to New York is precisely where he fails to
understand the significance of national political history, the Cultural
Revolution. Zhao’s relationship with her mother is not an ordinary one. It
is a special bond formed during the Cultural Revolution, after her father
was tortured to death by the Red Guards.
108 Constructions of quasi-national identity
Similarly, political identity also plays a significant role in the construc-
tion of Taiwanese cultural identity. Brought up in a family with a father
who is a veteran Guomindang supporter and a member of the Taiwanese
parliament, Huang appears to feel more ‘authentically’ Chinese than Li. In
her superior manner, Huang refers to Li’s restaurant as ‘unauthentic’
Chinese, a place where ‘Cantonese cook to fool Americans’.
Language is also used in the construction of political identity. In Zhao
and Huang’s cases, language constructs and signifies their relationship with
the host country. They ‘speak’ the relationship between China and
America, and between Taiwan and America. The relationship between
Thomas and Zhao resembles the self–other relation between America and
China, between the host nation and the migrant community. When Zhao
proudly tells her husband that her English has improved to the extent that
she wants to communicate with him in English, Thomas reminds her that
her Chinese is ‘more sexy’, and there is no ‘need’ for her to ‘struggle’ to
speak English. The self–other relation is also reinforced through Zhao’s
relations with the language of American English. Able to speak English
‘like an American’ as she puts it, Zhao utters the words ‘Oh! my God!’
and realises that these words are naturally articulated as if they are part of
herself. She gets into a panic and becomes uncomfortable with herself.
When Zhao speaks the language of the other, she begins to lose her sense
of purity of self.
Language also articulates Huang’s identity. As an ‘old migrant’,
Huang’s cultural identity shifts between Taiwan and America. Huang
speaks both English and Mandarin fluently. She plays Lady Macbeth in
audition for a part, but interprets the character through the story of
Empress Wu. Her crossing of cultural boundaries is symbolically
expressed through her use of language with her American and Taiwanese
boyfriends. Without a place of her own, Huang floats between the two
places and two cultures. She moves out of her American boyfriend’s home
and straight back into the flat of her Taiwanese ex-boyfriend. Her dias-
poric identity is constructed through her contrasting relations with the two
places. Unlike her American boyfriend’s house, big, cold and empty, the
Taiwanese boyfriend’s apartment is small, full of stylish modern furniture,
and warmed by a fire, light wine and hot coffee against a background of
music. With her American boyfriend, Huang’s conversation is about who
owns what (earrings and a few books). With the Taiwanese man, her con-
versation revolves around family members, their past in Taiwan, their
present in New York, and their passion for Chinese culture. When Huang
invites him to sleep with her in the bedroom instead of on the sofa, the
Taiwanese man struggles to find the right words to express his intention to
settle down with an American woman. Unable to express himself in
Chinese, he switches to English: ‘I am thinking of settling down with an
American girl.’ Also unable to express herself in Chinese, Huang replies in
English: ‘It is not going to work.’ ‘Why?’ he asks. ‘It didn’t work for me’,
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 109
she answers. Then they smile at each other. Before she returns to the
bedroom, the man switches back to Chinese in a caring voice: ‘Have an
early night! You have an audition tomorrow.’
In the construction of Li’s identity, however, language is used to articu-
late the difference between Hong Kong and China/Taiwan. Li speaks
English with her clients and Cantonese with her employees at her restau-
rant, but Mandarin with Zhao and Huang. When the three women are
tipsy at a meal, Huang sings a 1930s’ song from China, while Zhao sings a
popular Taiwanese campus song of the 1970s. This scene suggests that the
mainland and Taiwanese Chinese, in fact, share the same cultural identi-
ties, though they think they support different political ideologies. By con-
trast, Li sings her Hong Kong Cantonese song of the 1980s which distances
her from both of her friends.
Stanley Kwan constructs no geopolitical boundaries between Li and her
host country America. Li’s life in America is almost the same as she had in
Hong Kong (of course, after she adjusts fengshui to blend in with the qi) –
she continues to assist her father with the family business and manages her
own stock market transactions. She shows no signs of being concerned
with any political or social issues that are particular to Hong Kong, for
instance, Hong Kong’s future after 1997.
At the same time, Li is located at the centre of Chinese culture in New
York. The most identifiable signs of Chineseness – Chinese food, arranged
marriage and jiaqing (family affection) – appear in her ‘impure’ Chinese
restaurant. Zhao Hong desires a close relationship with her mother in New
York, a relationship exemplified through Li’s caring partnership with her
father. Huang Xiongping searches for something to make her ‘feel like a
Chinese’, which she experiences through ‘stirring’ Chinese food in a hot
wok surrounded by Chinese cooking smells and Chinese cooks in Li’s
restaurant. It becomes impossible to perceive Li as a member of the
Chinese diaspora in the West, as a sense of cultural displacement is not
evident in her. Her life in New York is simply a continuation of her life in
Hong Kong.
As mentioned above, Anthony Smith argues that national identity is
constructed with ‘two distinct forms and concepts of the “nation”, territor-
ial and ethnic’. As Zhao, Huang and Li share Chinese ethnicity, differ-
ences between them can only be articulated through their difference in
geopolitical identity. In Full Moon in New York, the mainland and Tai-
wanese Chinese are differentiated by their geopolitical identities, which
make them as distinct as, in Vijay Mishra’s words (1995: 155), that of ‘new’
and ‘old migrants’ in the host territory, America. However, there are no
distinct differences or boundaries between Hong Kong and America in
geopolitical identity expressed from Li’s perspective; Li in New York is a
continuation of Li in Hong Kong. This absence of Hong Kong’s geopoliti-
cal identity, or the ambiguity in representing Hong Kong’s geopolitical
identity produces Hong Kong’s quasi-national identity. It is quasi-national,
110 Constructions of quasi-national identity
because a geopolitically defined Hong Kong identity implies a notion of
crossing geopolitical borders.

Hong Kong: a nation lacking recognition as a ‘nation’

Directed by Evans Yiu-Shing Chan, Fushi lianqu / To Liv(e) (1991) pre-
sents a type of Hong Kong cultural identity rarely seen in mainstream
Hong Kong films. The film constructs a hybridised Hong Kong society
through selecting a group of people who are generally absent or posi-
tioned on the margins in representations of Hong Kong. The film embod-
ies the idea that Hong Kong is a quasi-nation. It does so through
establishing a hybrid cultural identity for Hong Kong and through indicat-
ing that the international community will not regard the people of Hong
Kong as refugees after Communist China takes over the colony. Hong
Kong is a quasi-nation, because as a distinct community both in geopoliti-
cal and in cultural terms, Hong Kong does exist. Its presence as a ‘nation’
is not recognised by the international community.
To Liv(e), was made in the particular historical context of 1991.
Affected by the Beijing incident of 4 June 1989, Hong Kong’s confidence
was at its lowest ebb since the Joint Declaration in 1984. The crisis of con-
fidence was reinforced by the conviction that Britain was not in a position
to offer protection after 1997. After the incident of 4 June, the British
government proposed a number of measures to boost Hong Kong’s confi-
dence about 1997, all of which were countered by the Chinese govern-
ment. The British government announced the granting of full British
passports to 50,000 qualified households, but the Chinese government
stated that they would not recognise such passport holders as foreign
nationals. The British government introduced a Bill of Rights to guarantee
the rights and freedoms of Hong Kong citizens after 1997, but the Chinese
government stated that they would reserve the right to review all Hong
Kong laws after 1997 to see whether these laws were compatible with the
Basic Law. All these factors contributed to Hong Kong’s pessimistic atti-
tude towards its future.
Within that particular historical context, it was no coincidence that
Evans Chan constructed a cinematic identity of Hong Kong that deviated
from the mainstream image of Hong Kong as a society of Chinese. In
Chan’s film, China is signified almost exclusively as a Communist dictator-
ship, which brutally crushed the student movement of 4 June 1989. There
is no indication of an ethnic or historical connection between Hong Kong
and China in the film. Moreover, the critical stance taken towards the
British does not rely on Hong Kong’s identification with Chinese national-
ism as it does in Johnny Mak’s Long Arm of the Law.
To Liv(e) is a docu-drama with images of historical newsreel footage
and scenes from pro-democracy demonstrations. The narrative deals with
the lives and concerns of a Hong Kong journal editor, Rubie, her family
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 111
and her friends, as 1997 approaches. The story is triggered both by Rubie’s
consideration of emigration, and by Norwegian/American actor and inter-
national refugee advocate, Liv Ullmann’s public condemnation of the
colonial government’s treatment of Vietnamese boat people in Hong
Kong. The film begins with a caption from an English language newspaper
against a black and white news photo of a Vietnamese refugee boat in
Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbour:

Dec. 12, 1989. In a secret pre-dawn operation, the British government

of Hong Kong forced 51 Vietnamese refugees to board a Hanoi-
bound plane intended as a pilot effort to stem the still incoming tide of
Vietnamese boat people, and to repatriate 57,000 stranded refugees
who are awaiting resettlement. The action set off a chorus of angry
protest from the international community.

Against a soundtrack of modern popular Cantonese songs, the camera

slowly pans from left to right to show Hong Kong island at sunset. A series
of images of Hong Kong then follows – junk, ferry, British naval flag at
Victoria Harbour, crowded streets, Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank build-
ing on Hong Kong island. When the soundtrack ends, the camera stops at
a house located on one of the nearby islands, Cheung Chau, where the
protagonist Rubie lives with her de facto husband John, an artist originally
from Indonesia.
Affected by the international community’s reaction to Hong Kong’s
repatriation of the Vietnamese boat people, and especially by Liv
Ullmann’s public condemnation on television, Rubie starts to write a
series of letters to air Hong Kong’s view on this matter. The contents of
her letters are communicated in two ways: first, through a talking-heads
format, which directly addresses the viewer, and second, through her
voice-over against a background of historical newsreel footage – Hong
Kong’s pro-democracy demonstrations, and urban and country scenes in
nearby islands. In her letter, Rubie questions Liv Ullmann’s claim that
Hong Kong flouted human rights by the forceful repatriation of the
Vietnamese boat people. She points out that the task of looking after the
Vietnamese boat people was imposed by the British government and
the international community in 1979 without the consent of Hong Kong
citizens. She writes:

Over the last 15 years, Hong Kong taxpayers have spent at least
US$340 million on clothing and feeding them while they await reset-
tlement somewhere.

Rubie’s letter does not stop at questioning Ullmann’s accusations. Instead,

she develops an argument about the people of Hong Kong – the fate of
Hong Kong people will not be so different from that of the Vietnamese
boat people after China’s takeover of the colony. She asks Ullmann:
112 Constructions of quasi-national identity
When in Hong Kong, other than your visits to the refugee camps, have
you tried to look into the tormenting and disgraceful conditions under
which half a million Hong Kong people are still living. Have you also
visited some hillside squatter areas, the walled-city, the early seven-
storey resettlement buildings and the crummy rooming houses where
men are living in cages? What about the systematic dehumanization
they endure when they lack even the political expediency to be treated
as refugees?

Furthermore, the film suggests that the people of Hong Kong are living in
preparation for the time when they are reduced to ‘refugees’. As China is
represented as a Communist dictatorship, Hong Kong’s return to China is
therefore a return to the government of Communist dictatorship. This
image is reinforced by deconstructing Hong Kong as a society of Chinese.
Chan allows people normally perceived to be at the periphery in main-
stream Hong Kong films – Eurasians, Hong Kong residents of British
origin and Chinese of South-East Asian origin – to speak for the centre.
He also reconstructs mainstream images of Hong Kong Chinese, the
middle-class Chinese professionals, by emphasising their mobility between
Hong Kong and the West.
In the film, Hong Kong is represented by Rubie, an Eurasian. It is
through her voice that the audience ‘hears’ the voice of Hong Kong. Her
Eurasian features symbolise Hong Kong as a hybrid of the West (British)
and the Chinese. Rubie speaks fluent English with an American accent
and Cantonese without a European accent. Her image as representing
Hong Kong comes from her constant use of ‘we, the people of Hong
Kong’, foregrounding her position as spokesperson for the community.
The identification also comes from her comfortable position within Hong
Kong society, her behaviour, her understanding of the community, her
concerns for the future after 1997, and her knowledge about the West, her
citing from Peggy Guggenheim, Ingmar Bergman and George Bernard
Shaw. Rubie negotiates skilfully between two languages, and between her
Chinese and Anglo-Saxon friends. She is neither a British coloniser, nor a
colonial mimic, nor an ‘authentic’ Chinese, but a hybrid of the British
colonisation of Chinese society.
The film constructs Rubie as a metaphor for Hong Kong. She was born
in the 1960s, the period when Hong Kong began to distance itself from
China and develop its own cultural identity. Her past resembles that of
Ka-hing, the character in Allen Fong’s film, Father and Son. Both grow up
in a lower middle-class family, and neither characters’ parents have
particular memories about China or any familial or cultural connection
with the mainland. As with Ka-hing, China plays no part in Rubie’s
growing up. However, there is one difference between the two characters.
Ka-hing’s family is a victim of British colonisation, whereas Rubie’s family
owes a great debt to the former British Christian missionary, Elsie Tu,
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 113
who assisted the family to overcome the most difficult period in the 1960s.
The role of Elsie Tu in the past of Rubie’s family reinforces the message
that Hong Kong is not a Chinese society, but a society built up by the co-
operation between the British coloniser and the indigenous Chinese.
John, Rubie’s de facto husband, is also represented as a hybrid identity.
Originally from Indonesia, he follows his father to Hong Kong during the
period of anti-Chinese feeling in Indonesia. Like Rubie, John is bilingual
and comfortable with both his Chinese and European friends. His paint-
ings express his hybridity by using the two standard colours of Chinese ink
painting, black and white, to produce Western style oil paintings. If Rubie
and Ka-hing represent Hong Kong’s indigenous community – the group of
people who were born in Hong Kong – then John and Hueyin in Ann
Hui’s Song of the Exile represent the refugee and migrant community in
Hong Kong. In contrast to Hueyin, who identifies herself with Hong Kong,
John is ambiguous about his Hong Kong identity, so that he uses the term
‘you, the people of Hong Kong’ to distance himself from the community.
However, his manner, the way he speaks and reads English, and his use of
local idioms, makes him, in the words of local critic Liu Mingyi (1993:
108), ‘the most identifiable character’ to Hong Kong spectators.
In representing the centre of Hong Kong – the middle-class profes-
sional Chinese – Chan also deconstructs their Chinese cultural identity
through emphasising their connection with the West. Rubie’s elder
brother and his family are in Canada. Rubie’s younger brother Tony is a
typical middle-class Hong Kong professional whose application to migrate
to Australia has been granted. In the film, the couples presented are all
fractured families apart from Rubie’s parents. Rubie and John, Tony and
Teresa live together but are not married. Teresa is divorced and is much
older than Tony. Their relationship is not accepted by Tony’s mother who,
however, easily accepts the marriage of Elsie Tu to a younger Chinese
man because Elsie is a Guilao. The narrative presents cultural clashes
between East and West, reflected in the contrast between traditional
Chinese and modern Chinese families.
To Liv(e) has been widely criticised by local cultural critics as a film
which ‘expresses’ Hong Kong’s view through identification with the West
by the use of English (Ye 1992a, b and c; He 1992; Sek 1992; M.Y. Liu
1993: 95–109). Their criticism has some foundation. All Rubie’s letters are
delivered orally in English. Moreover, either through the subject matter
dealing with politics and art, or through techniques of aesthetics – asyn-
chronous sound, diegetic music, colour coding and other forms of symbol-
ism, To Liv(e) recalls Godard’s films Vivre sa Vie (My Life to Live) (1962)
and Letter to Jane: Investigation of a Still (1972). The film also cites a letter
written by George Bernard Shaw and quotations from Italo Calvino’s
Invisible City, all of which are shown to be ‘not genuinely addressed to the
people of Hong Kong’ (Erens 1996: 114). But at the same time, the film
also makes use of art works not produced in the West: the soundtrack of
114 Constructions of quasi-national identity
the mainland Chinese protest rocker, Cui Jian’s ‘Nothing to My Name’,
and dance dramas produced by Hong Kong, ‘Exhausted Silkworms’ and
‘Nuclear Goddess’. The film, therefore, composed of fragments of West
and East, and represents the hybridised society of Hong Kong.
The title of the film, both the Chinese Fushi lian or Fushi lianqu and the
English To Liv(e), captures double meanings. As denotation, To Liv(e)
indicates the film is a response to Liv Ullmann’s criticism of Hong Kong’s
repatriation of Vietnamese boat people. The Chinese title Fushi lianqu
(Secular Love, Secular Life) describes ordinary citizens’ love and life in
Hong Kong after 4 June 1989 and as 1997 approaches. It connotes that the
people of Hong Kong cope with life as it comes. They have ‘to live’ in
anticipation of Communist ‘dictatorship’ and their ‘refugee’ status after
1997.
The hybrid identity produced in the films discussed suggest that Hong
Kong is a distinct community, differentiated from China. Hybridity is also,
however, a symptom of the quasi-national status of Hong Kong: Hong
Kong is a nation without a name. As a quasi-nation, it can be imposed on
by the British government and the United Nations, who assign to Hong
Kong the position of first asylum for Vietnamese boat people. The same
quasi-national status also allows the British and the Chinese governments
to decide Hong Kong’s future after 1997 without the consent of Hong
Kong citizens in 1984.

The demise of a quasi-national identity?

Cinematic construction of Hong Kong’s cultural identity conforms with
Stuart Hall’s argument that cultural identity is always in process. Hong
Kong quasi-national identity is the cultural representation of a particular
historical context. The negotiation between Smith’s two forms and con-
cepts of nation, territorial and ethnic, in the triangular relationship, distin-
guish a quasi-national identity from other cinematic cultural identities
represented in Hong Kong films before the 1970s. The quasi-national iden-
tity owes more to the move towards China than to its status as a British
colony. Johnny Mak’s Long Arm of the Law reveals Hong Kong’s anxiety
about its transition before the official signing of the Sino-British Agree-
ment in 1984. Stanley Kwan’s Full Moon in New York invokes Hong
Kong’s negotiation of its identity in relation to various ethnic Chinese
communities and the West. Evans Chan’s To Liv(e) depicts Hong Kong’s
identity crisis after the Beijing incidents in June 1989. Though these three
films are made in different periods, they reveal the common theme that
Hong Kong was a quasi-nation under the two dominant powers of the
British coloniser and the Chinese motherland.
On the eve of Hong Kong’s return to China in the mid-1990s, Hong
Kong’s quasi-national identity is further explored and questioned in films.
On the one hand, the 4 June 1989 incident continues to shadow the
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 115
community’s lack of confidence about its return to China. On the other
hand, the development of economic relations between Hong Kong and
China is shown to enhance their relationship. From the early 1990s, China
has become the largest foreign investor in the territory, taking over from
Japan and the United States. For its part, Hong Kong has moved its manu-
facturing to the mainland to take advantage of cheap land and labour, and
has profited from providing financial services to China. Although the last
Governor, Chris Patten, launched his new political reform scheme for the
democratisation of Hong Kong, the British influence in Hong Kong has
gradually faded along with the strengthening economic ties between Hong
Kong and China. In terms of film productions, Hong Kong film-makers
actively seek opportunities to co-operate with the mainland film industry
and aim to play a role in the mainland market. In June 1994, the first film
festival organised by the mainland for China, Taiwan and Hong Kong was
opened in Zhuhai.
With political and economic changes in the triangular relationship, the
production of cultural identity in films has also changed. Between 1994
and 1996, a number of Hong Kong films presented Hong Kong’s identifica-
tion with the mainland by highlighting a shared ethnic identity and fore-
grounding similarities between the two places. Kirk Wong’s Shenggang
yihao tongjie fan / Rock N’Roll Cop presents images of mainland police-
men who share values of law and order, and are familiar with Hong Kong
civic and popular culture. The film also suggests that the Chinese border
between Hong Kong and China is only beneficial to Hong Kong criminals
who escape to the mainland after committing crimes in Hong Kong (Deng
1994: 108). Both Ching Siu-tung’s Qi jin gang / Seven Wonders and Yuen
Kuei’s Zhongnan hai baobiao / Bodyguard From Beijing in 1994 also con-
struct positive images of the mainland policies as just and efficient. In con-
trast to their previous representations as illegal migrants or country
bumpkins, mainland Chinese are requested to come to Hong Kong to
carry out specific tasks there that Hong Kong is unable to perform.
The winning film at the last Hong Kong Golden Film Awards under the
British governance in 1996, Peter Chan’s Tianmimi / Comrade, It Is
Almost a Love Story suggests that a distinct geopolitically defined Hong
Kong identity is only a myth. The film transfers geopolitical differences
between Hong Kong and China into regional differences between the
south and the north. The film tells a love story about two mainland
Chinese in Hong Kong, Xiao Jun from northern China’s Tianjin, and Li
Qiao from Guangzhou, in the south. Although both of them are from the
mainland, Li Qiao believes herself to be a Hong Konger, because ‘we live
so near to Hong Kong’, ‘we speak Cantonese, grow up by watching Hong
Kong television and consume Hong Kong products’. Her perspective is
not without logic when it relates to Xiao Jun. In his first couple of weeks,
Xiao Jun writes to his fiancee in Tianjin: ‘Hong Kong is really far away
from us, it is so different, there are many buildings, cars, and I was told
116 Constructions of quasi-national identity
that there are many thieves too.’ ‘Cantonese are very rude.’ ‘They speak
loudly.’ ‘They are very strange people. They don’t work in the daytime,
but, at night, they dress well and go out to enjoy night life.’ ‘There are lots
of foreigners in Hong Kong, I can’t understand what (Hong Kong)
Chinese are talking about, let alone foreigners in Hong Kong.’ After Xiao
Jun has written to his fiancee in Tianjin, ‘today I am going to a place where
Tianjin people have never been – MacDonalds’, the next scene shows Li
Qiao already working at MacDonalds, comfortably and skilfully selling
hamburgers. Chan constructs a difference between a northern and south-
ern Chinese cultural identity where Hong Kong is integrated with the
south.
In Comrade, It Is Almost a Love Story, Chan emphasises the shared
experiences of the mainland and Hong Kong Chinese. Brother Bao and
the chef, of Hong Kong origin in New York, share Xiao Jun’s experience
as a migrant. Both characters are ‘forced’ one way or another to go into
‘exile’ in New York. Xiao Jun’s passion for playing basketball in a densely
built up Hong Kong is shared by the Hong Kong chef. Like the mainland
Chinese, the Hong Kong Chinese are also ‘vain’ and refuse to purchase
certain music to avoid being ‘accused’ of being mainland Chinese. Both
the Mainland Chinese Li Qiao and the Hong Kong resident Rosie seek
something which is ‘non-existent’. Li Qiao longs to be a ‘real’ Hong
Konger. Similarly, Xiao Jun’s aunt, Rosie, spends her life believing that
the Hollywood film star William Holden, whom she shared afternoon tea
with in the Peninsula Hotel in the 1960s, will return to Hong Kong one day
to ‘reunite’ with her.
The film also shifts away from representing mainstream images of Hong
Kong – middle-class Western-educated professionals – to images that
embody the idea of ‘decline’: an aged and dying night club prostitute,
Rosie; Big Brother of a small branch of triads, Brother Bao, who is forced
into exile; and the chef who has to migrate to America in his late fifties as
1997 approaches. These images eliminate the different geopolitical identi-
ties of Hong Kong and China. The images of a dying prostitute, an exiled
triads leader and a hardworking chef cannot signify the geopolitical
significance of Hong Kong any more effectively than can Western edu-
cated professionals who share little in common with the mainland Chinese
in the Communist state.
The film emphasises the shared Chinese ethnicity through images and
stories of Teresa Tang and her music. As a cultural sign, Teresa Tang and
her music signify Chineseness. Teresa Tang (Deng Lijun) used to be the
most popular Chinese singer known to Chinese communities around the
world. There used to be a common saying that ‘where there is Chinese,
there is Teresa Tang’. Born in Taiwan from a military family, Teresa Tang
began her singing career in Taiwan, then established herself in Hong
Kong, Japan and South-East Asia in the late 1960s and 1970s. The popu-
larity of her music quickly spread to the mainland in the late 1970s. By the
 Constructions of quasi-national identity 117
mid-1980s, Teresa Tang had become the best known singer in the unoffi-
cial Chinese cultural market. The mainland Chinese described the situ-
ation by commenting that ‘Deng Xiaoping ruled China by day, and Deng
Lijun (Teresa Tang) by night’. Although her music seems non-political,
Tang was a very controversial figure. She was used by the Taiwanese
government as a non-political Chinese cultural symbol to promote
Taiwan’s image in the 1960s and 1970s (Ming Bao Monthly, no.354, July
1995, 47–62). Her music also became a target of China’s anti-capitalist
spiritual pollution movement in the early 1980s. She died at the age of 42
on 8 March 1995 in Bangkok.
The film uses Teresa Tang, her music and her death as motifs. The
Chinese title of the film, Tianmimi, is borrowed from her well-known song
Tianmimi. Teresa Tang and her music accompany Xiao Jun and Li Qiao
throughout their romance. At the beginning of their relationship, Xiao Jun
rides a bike, with Li Qiao as pillion, along a busy Hong Kong street. Xiao
Jun comments that it reminds him of the days on the mainland. In response
to his words, Li Qiao, swinging her legs while on the bike (a typical gesture
of mainland women), begins to sing Teresa Tang’s Tianmimi.
At the mid-point of their relationship, Li Qiao visits Xiao Jun after a
day’s hard work. Xiao Jun lies beside Li Qiao, with his fingers ‘walking’ on
her shoulder, singing Tianmimi to help her sleep. On one Chinese New
Year’s Eve, Li Qiao and Xiao Jun invest in a small business to sell Teresa
Tang’s cassettes at a market. Li Qiao is certain that they will get a good
return because one in five Hong Kong residents is from the mainland, and
the mainland Chinese love Teresa Tang’s music. However, what she does
not know is that, like her, the mainland Chinese do not wish to expose
their mainland identity by consuming Teresa Tang’s music. The couple
lose their investment.
When Li Qiao and Xiao Jun are back together a number of years later,
Teresa Tang and her music appear again as background to their ‘reunion’.
Years later, the two characters follow their own fates and arrive in New
York, but neither knows that the other is also in the same city. It is Teresa
Tang’s death that brings them together. They discover each other when
they both stop in front of a shop window to watch a television broadcast of
Teresa Tang’s death. Teresa Tang’s presence in the narrative suggests that
no matter where Xiao Jun and Li Qiao are – the mainland, Hong Kong or
New York – neither their passion for Teresa Tang nor their ethnic Chinese
identity can be erased.
As the narrative unfolds, the idea of a distinct Hong Kong identity is
shown to be a myth. Li Qiao tells Xiao Jun that one in five Hong Kong
people are from the mainland. And the remaining Hong Kong Chinese are
the children and grandchildren of mainland Chinese. Hong Kong identity
is no more than a series of signs signifying economic ‘success’. A few years
later, after Li Qiao achieves some success in business with the help of
Brother Bao, she comments to Xiao Jun at a party:
118 Constructions of quasi-national identity
I visited a five-star hotel one day, a few people even spoke English to
me. Shop assistants dare not be impolite to me. Last month, I went
back to Guangzhou to build a house for my mother. Nobody recog-
nised me. I told my mother, I have finally become a Hong Konger.

However, her ‘Hong Kong identity’ is swept away when she follows
Brother Bao to ‘exile’ overseas.
Cinematic constructions of national identity are always modified
according to changing national political and social contexts. Images of
Hong Kong’s geopolitical identity have also developed along with changes
in the triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the Chinese
motherland and Hong Kong self. The films I have analysed in this chapter
were produced in the particular historical context of the triangular rela-
tionship when the colony was moving towards China. Hong Kong was
anxious about its future after 1997, and the colony wanted to play an influ-
ential role in the British and Chinese’s decision-making about Hong Kong.
Hong Kong needed to make sense of itself as a distinct ‘nation’ to claim its
right to a say over how political power should be exercised for Hong
Kong’s benefit.
The process of constructing Hong Kong as a ‘nation’ reaches the stage
when Hong Kong could only speak ‘self’ as a nation by defining its bound-
aries in relation to the coloniser and the motherland. Not only is the trian-
gular relationship essential to making sense of Hong Kong, but Johnny
Mak and Evans Chan’s films also indicate that Hong Kong was a nation
without political power of its own. Stanley Kwan’s film constructs a Hong
Kong ‘self’ independent of the triangular relationship, so the geopolitical
identity of Hong Kong in his film shows, indicating the necessity of cross-
ing geopolitical borders. The term quasi-nation as used in this chapter
expresses the imperfection, and ambiguity in both the process and the
product of cinematic constructions of Hong Kong as a nation.
7 Hong Kong cinema after
1997

So far I have described Hong Kong cinema before the return of the colony
to China, with an emphasis on the period between 1979 and 1997. In doing
so, I paid special attention to the Hong Kong film industry, market, film
criticism, cultural specificity of local films, as well as the cinematic con-
struction of the colony’s history, territory and the cultural identity of Hong
Kong.
In this chapter I want to ask the general question: what has happened to
Hong Kong cinema since the return of the colony to China? This question
is being posed against the overall claim of the book that Hong Kong
cinema can be defined satisfactorily only if we address the peculiar trian-
gular relationship between the British colonizer, the Chinese motherland
and Hong Kong. At the same time, the generality of the question is in
need of specification by a number of more precise queries.

• Has Hong Kong cinema continued in the same vein or has it changed
radically?
• Has Hong Kong cinema moved closer to Chinese national cinema?
• Have there been any changes in the film industry? Has there been any
shift in Hong Kong film markets?
• Has Hong Kong cinema developed cinematic techniques, genres, con-
ventions and narratives that are different from those of the pre-1997
period?
• Has the cinematic construction of Hong Kong history, landscape and
cultural identity changed since 1997?
• Are there any significant changes as to film critics?

Throughout the book, I have argued that Hong Kong cinema is shaped by
the shifts in the triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the
Chinese motherland, and Hong Kong. 1997 brought perhaps the most
significant change in this relationship – the retreat of the British coloniser
from the colony, and the official return of Hong Kong to China’s control
under the policy of ‘one country, two systems’. However, this change has
had a limited impact on Hong Kong cinema: certainly, new developments
120 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997
have taken place but they are not as radical as might be expected. Indeed,
we can observe a strong continuity of well established genres, visual styles,
narratives, as well as producers, directors and stars. Nor are such changes
as pervasive or as incisive as the momentous occasion of the historical
turning point may suggest.
There are a number of reasons for this, which I will discuss later in the
chapter. Here I want to draw the reader’s attention to the important fact
that the absence of the British coloniser after 1997 does not mean the end
of British presence in Hong Kong. British law, its laissez-faire economic
policy and governmental structures remain unchanged under China’s
policy of ‘one country, two systems’. The colony may have been returned
to China, but its high degree of autonomy continues. Indeed we note an
increase of trade, tourism, labour influx and cultural exchange between
Hong Kong and the mainland after 1997. Nevertheless, the border
remains. This separation is effective also in the domain of culture. Hong
Kong films, for example, are still considered by the Chinese government as
‘foreign’; they are subject to China’s quotas of foreign film importation of
less than fifteen films per annum. As a result, Hong Kong cinema cannot
be understood as part of Chinese national cinema.
In the following sections, I will first discuss Hong Kong society after
1997. I will argue that Hong Kong has remained a quasi-nation despite the
fact that the British coloniser has formally withdrawn from the colony and
the city’s political and economic relationship with China has been
strengthening. I will suggest that in spite of the political change of the tri-
angular relationship in 1997 Britain continues to exert a strong influence
on the cultural aspects of Hong Kong. My second section focuses on Hong
Kong cinema, in which I will address trends, changes and continuities in
the industry, markets, film texts and criticism in the post-1997 era. I want
to claim that Hong Kong cinema remains a quasi-national cinema after
1997.

Continuation of the quasi-nation

The year 1997 marks a historical change in the triangular relationship
between the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong.
On 1 July 1997, the British coloniser withdrew from Hong Kong; the
Chinese troops moved in; and the territory became a Special Administra-
tive Region (SAR) of the People’s Republic of China, after 157 years of
British governance. The change of the political status from a British
colony to a special region of China has catapulted the triangular relation-
ship into a new era. The British are no longer the coloniser, but the colo-
nial influence remains, which poses challenges to the new Hong Kong
government. China’s recovery of Hong Kong is based on a set of policies
that both includes and excludes the territory in relation to other parts of
the nation. Under the policy of ‘one country, two systems’ China has the
 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997 121
right to intervene in Hong Kong’s affairs. On the other hand, the policy
specifies that Hong Kong maintains its distinct capitalist system.
In spite of this political transition, some fundamental characteristics of
the territory as a quasi-nation have remained intact. There is a reason for
this: China wants the capitalist system in the territory to continue. In doing
so, the Chinese government has to ensure that political and legal systems
are in accordance with the market economy. At the same time, the dignity
of the Chinese nation has to be respected. In the main, what has changed
after 1997 is that the Chinese Basic Law now overrules any other laws in
the territory, and the Chief Executive of the territory is accountable to
China’s National People’s Congress. Indeed, the political system in the
post-1997 period is now clearly distinct from a Western style democracy.
And yet a certain degree of progress towards democracy is visible in com-
parison to the political system under the colonial government. The Chief
Executive of the HKSAR is elected by the Elective Committee which con-
sists of 800 local members, and appointed by the National People’s Con-
gress. The Legislative Council is constituted partly by directly elected
members. Most importantly, Hong Kong as a quasi-nation is not only
authorised by the National People’s Congress to exercise ‘a high degree of
autonomy’, but also defined as a geopolitical community, which has differ-
ent political, legal, economic and social rights. The citizens of Hong Kong
participate in their different elections and vote for their own political
organisations. They are governed by a mixture of British common law and
Chinese Basic Law, none of which apply to the Chinese citizens on the
mainland. The Hong Kong juridical apparatus is distinct from that of
China in terms of its judicial institutions, legal profession and legal lan-
guage. The Basic Law also guarantees HKSAR residents that the capitalist
lifestyle will continue for at least 50 years, with a low tax system, and no
fiscal obligations to the Central Government. Moreover, HKSAR citizens
continue to be perceived by the international community as a distinct
geopolitical region.
It is not surprising that the main fear amongst the citizens of Hong
Kong before the changeover was an apprehension as to the specific nature
of the political impact of the event. However, 4 months after the hand-
over, the Asian economic crisis bought the worst recession to the territory
in more than three decades. Now the main concern became the economic
consequences of the political change: a sharp decrease in property values,
a speedy rise in unemployment, and an increasing migration to the north.
As China has kept its promise of non-interference, and Britain has
remained at a distance, the SAR government has increasingly drawn the
attention of both the international and domestic communities. At
the same time, the mainland market plays a crucial role in the recovery
of the Hong Kong economy. In many ways the territory’s return has
strengthened Hong Kong’s economic ties with China. On the other hand,
‘one country, two systems’ policy also prevents Hong Kong from taking
122 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997
full advantage of the exploration of the mainland market. Moreover, the
mainland’s excellent economic performance, large human resources,
cheap labour and property rents have made China the strongest competi-
tor for Hong Kong.
Social and cultural integration with the mainland have also been
strengthened since 1997. The border remains, but movement between
Hong Kong and the mainland is increasing. My younger brother crosses
the border to Shengzhen for lunch as he takes the ferry to Kowloon for a
movie. In October 2001 I frequently encountered shop assistants who
spoke perfect Mandarin, but were unfamiliar with basic English in some of
the most traditional local stores at Landmark Central. Complaints could
be heard about too many mainland Chinese on working visas increasing
the territory’s unemployment rate. The growing labour flux can be seen
daily. And yet, most of my relatives and acquaintances shop mainly on the
mainland for variety, better quality and cheaper goods. The security man
at our building said to me that few people nowadays treat Hong Kong as
their ‘home’ as they did in the 1960s and 1970s: ‘There are too many main-
landers, and many people have gone back to China.’ Hong Kong Sub-
Cultural Publisher Jimmy Peng could not hide his joy at having signed up
more and more mainland writers and cartoonists. They are cheaper and
offer better quality. Sitting at home flicking between television channels, I
saw the stunning similarities between the mainland and Hong Kong pro-
grammes in theme, narrative and programme structure, gesturality, style
of music, and styles of news delivery. Chief Editor of City Entertainment
said to me on October 2001:

Hong Kong television and films are becoming more and more un-
Hongkong-like. If you didn’t know that these actors were from Hong
Kong, you would not have known that these were Hong Kong films.

It is clear then that China’s policy of ‘one country, two systems’ is indeed
being carried out in the post-1997 era. This goes hand in hand with social
and cultural integration. So are there any changes in the way that Hong
Kong perceives herself after the coloniser’s retreat? As cultural identity is
always in process, how does the change of the triangular relationship affect
the cinematic construction of Hong Kong? First, the Hong Kong film
industry.

Film industry and film markets

China’s policy of ‘one country, two systems’ naturally applies to the Hong
Kong film industry. In the mid-1990s, a Hong Kong film delegation, led by
the then President of the Hong Kong Film Directors Association Ng Seen-
yuen, visited Beijing to secure China’s guarantee of the industry’s freedom
of expression after 1997. Lu Ping, the Director of Hong Kong and Macau
 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997 123
Affairs Office of China’s State Council, told the delegation that the indus-
try would be encouraged to maintain its present freedom of expression,
that is, Hong Kong film-makers would be able to continue to produce not
only category 3 (R-rated), but even category 4 and 5 (X and XX-rated)
films.
Lu Ping did not overstate his promise. The colony’s return to China has
had a minimum impact on the local film industry. No new censorship regu-
lations have been introduced since 1997. Nor is there any evidence that
local film-makers have been restricted in their freedom of expression. The
Hong Kong film industry continues to operate in the way it had in the pre-
1997 era. Ironically, however, non-interference has been interpreted by
the Chinese government to mean also the blocking of Hong Kong films to
the mainland. Now the Hong Kong film industry has few privileges beyond
those of any foreign country. Under Chinese sovereignty, the Hong Kong
film industry competes with Hollywood in China’s market as it did before
1997.
As a consequence, what has changed is the combined effort of the
industry’s own market and production strategies under the shadow of
1997. Since the late 1980s, the industry’s uncertainty about its future had
intensified as July 1997 was approaching. Desperate for instant success,
with few concerns about its long-term future, the industry produced a
large quantity of films disregarding the realities of the market.1 For
instance, Taiwan and South Korea have drastically reduced the import of
Hong Kong films owing to over-supply and ‘poor quality’. As Taiwan
exhibitors have changed their way of purchasing Hong Kong films from
pre-buy to distribution since the mid-1990s, the Hong Kong film industry
has suffered from a shortage of investment. The South Korean market has
also been shrinking since 1996 for similar reasons: ‘a large influx’ of films,
‘limitations of genres, motifs, actors and formats’ (Hyun 1998: 44).
In 1998 the dependence on overseas markets has brought the Hong
Kong film industry to its lowest point. The first problem facing the indus-
try after 1997 then was the decline of the overseas market. The industry’s
concern for freedom of expression soon paled before its anxiety in the face
of the Asian economic crisis, 3 months after the handover. As Southeast
Asian currencies fell, return values from Southeast Asia decreased, with
Hong Kong production costs remaining unchanged. As a result, Golden
Harvest suffered a loss of HK$90 million by 30 June 1998, down from a
profit of HK$878,000 the previous year. Revenue slipped to $28.78 million,
down 34.2 per cent. Overseas markets used to generate 60 to 70 per cent
from foreign sales; in the late 1990s this profit had dropped to less than 30
per cent.2
The decrease of overseas markets and the consistency of China’s policy
of ‘one country, two systems’ after 1997 have forced the Hong Kong film
industry to seriously develop strategies to revive its cinema. They point in
three major directions. With Asian currencies falling, investment in Hong
124 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997
Kong films was also diminishing. So the first of the three strategies has
been to attract overseas investment. Major production studios like Golden
Harvest, China Star and Star East have launched their web-sites to lure
share-holders. Supported by the Hong Kong Government’s HK$100
million film industry revitalization fund established in 1997, the Hong
Kong Asia Film Financing Forum invited ten Asian countries, including
Australia, in April 2000 to facilitate networking for production invest-
ment. The forum introduced Hong Kong film-makers to mainstream
financiers, co-producers and investors. It also invited Hollywood produc-
ers to advise on ways of structuring a financing framework involving
government and banks.
Increased co-productions are one strategy aiming at reviving local film
making. In post-1997 Hong Kong, joint ventures with Asian countries and
Hollywood have risen sharply. Media Asia, Golden Harvest, China Star
and other medium sized companies have all produced a number of films
with Japan and Singapore, such as Woai chufang / Kitchen (1997), Meishao
nian de lian /Bishonen (1998), Xingyue tonghua / Moonlight Express
(1999), Tianxuan dilian / When I Look upon the Stars (1999), Aiqing
menghuan hao / Fascination Amour (1999), Dongjing gonglue / Tokyo
Riders (2000), 2000 Gongyuan / 2000AD (2000), Yinghua, Yinghua / Para
Para Sakura (2000) and Lavender (2001). So persuasive has the concept of
securing a market in Asia with Hong Kong as a production centre proved
to be that Hong Kong film-makers Peter Chan, Teddy Chen and Allan
Fung established Applause Pictures in 2000. Its initial aim was to attract
Asian film-makers and fund Asian products by signing contracts with
Asian directors, including Nonzee Nimibutr from Thailand, Hur Jin-Ho,
Kim Jae Woon from South Korea, as well as directors from Japan’s
Omega Projects.
It has always been a strategy of the Hong Kong film industry to expand
its market through Hollywood. Before 1997 the emphasis had been mainly
on Hong Kong’s investment in Hollywood products. In contrast, the post-
1997 era has seen a steady increase in the exchange of film talents and
investments. Not only is there a growing number of Hong Kong film-
makers working in Hollywood and Hong Kong, as for instance John Woo,
Ringo Lam, Tsui Hark, Ronny Yu, Stanley Tong, Kirk Wong, Peter Chan,
Chow Yun-fat and Michelle Yeoh, but Hollywood has likewise shown a
notable interest in funding and producing Hong Kong films. In 2001,
Columbia Pictures Film Production Asia and the Japanese Sony Pictures
Entertainment jointly set up local operations to finance Hong Kong films.
Tsui Hark’s Knock Off, Time and Tide, Big Shot’s Funeral, The Legend of
Zu, Chen Kuo-Fu’s Double Vision, and Stephen Chow’s Shaolin zuqiu /
Shaolin Soccer were all partly financed by Hollywood studios.
Moreover, the industry is busy looking for opportunities to secure
overseas markets through signing contracts for exhibition chains in Asia
in the post-1997 era. Media Asia has reached an agreement with Thai-
 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997 125
land’s key exhibitor Entertain Golden Village, which operates eighty-
three of Bangkok’s more than 300 screens. The same company is negoti-
ating similar deals with Korea and throughout the Asian markets.3
Likewise, Applause Pictures aims to establish a distribution network in
Asia.
Although China’s market remains closed to the Hong Kong film indus-
try under its policy of ‘one country, two systems’, the industry not only
maintains its existing contacts but also actively explores new market niches
on the mainland – the industry’s second major strategy after 1997. This has
not come as a total surprise. In 1994, Raymond Wong, the director of
Mandarin Production, told me that in the twenty-first century the world
would be dominated by two cinemas, Hollywood and China’s, if the main-
land were to open its market to the Hong Kong film industry. At the
moment, restricted by China’s policy, the industry’s presence on the main-
land is severely limited in the areas of co-production and investment. And
yet, only a year after the handover, Golden Harvest shifted its marketing
direction from Southeast Asia to China and so Golden Harvest Pictures
(China) was founded with funds from Citibank and the Singapore Pub-
caster STC. The company has also created a $30 million pool for co-
producing films in China. In 2000, one-third of the total film output of
Golden Harvest was co-produced with China’s studios. The company has
also built and managed cinema complexes in Shanghai, Beijing and other
cities. At the same time, it is one of the most active distributors of Chinese
and international films on the mainland, even if always under the auspices
of China’s state-owned importer China Film and its provincial distributors.
Not surprisingly, the industry’s interests in China’s market goes beyond
film business. In 2001, Golden Harvest signed co-production deals with TV
studios in Shanghai, Hunan and Sichuan. Their TV series will be available
in Mandarin-speaking markets such as Taiwan, Singapore and Malaysia.
Similarly, China Star, with its studios in Shenzheng, has already success-
fully produced television series for television stations at city and provincial
levels on the mainland.
The third strategy of the Hong Kong film industry in the post-1997
period has been to secure the domestic market through ‘Hollywoodising’
local cinema. Just as overseas sales have been falling off dramatically due
to the Asian Economic Crisis, so the box-office returns from the domestic
market have also declined. In 1997, foreign films outgrossed local produc-
tion for the first time since 1980. To make matters worse, after 1997, exhi-
bition chains screening exclusively Hong Kong films no longer exist. In
spite of the fact that the territory has one of the highest densities of
cinemas in the world, with 209 screens, none could afford to specialise in
local films. Yet the domestic market is vital to the Hong Kong film indus-
try. According to the managing director of Media Asia, John Chueng,
more than half of the total income of the industry comes from the
domestic market:
126 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997
On average, Hong Kong box-office revenue yields at most 25 per cent
of the total income generated by a film, while selling the copyright via
VCD, DVD and Cable should bring in about 40 per cent profit. If you
talk about box office returns only, the Hong Kong market contributes
70 to 80 per cent. So we can’t afford to lose the domestic market.

Hollywoodising Hong Kong cinema is regarded by the industry as the

most promising way of rescuing the shrinking domestic market. Director
Gordon Chan’s view, that ‘we need to win back the confidence of the
Hong Kong audience. . . . We have to show them that we can make a film
as well as Hollywood’, is widely shared in the popular media. A few film-
makers also argue for the similarities between Hong Kong and American
markets: both are multicultural societies with a mix of indigenous people
and immigrants, and both are preoccupied with commerce rather than
traditional arts, literature, and science. The film-making system of Holly-
wood has also been seen as a benchmark for any ‘real’ film industry. In
October 2001, Joe Chueng, the President of the Hong Kong Film Dir-
ectors Association, began our conversation by correcting my phrase ‘the
Hong Kong film industry’:

There is no film industry in Hong Kong, you need to remember this.

Because we don’t have a system like Hollywood.4

I reminded him that the Hong Kong ‘system’ has turned the territory into
one of the most viable and productive film-making locations in the world.
This ‘system’ mostly relies on a quick, slapdash approach, the non-
accounting of funds, and the absence of contractual security. As such, it
has many advantages in terms of time-saving, flexibility, freedom of
employment, ad hoc decision making, and a minimum of bureaucracy. On
the other hand, Chueng was perhaps right in suggesting that it was this
same informal ‘system’ that has led the downturn of the film business since
the early 1990s.
The belief in the superiority of the Hollywood system is reflected in the
local industry’s financial management. Media Asia has begun to practise
the Hollywood style by seeking funding from banks and by signing Com-
pletion Bonds to guarantee the success of the product. In the same vein,
Media Asia emulates other aspects of Hollywood film-making, such as the
requirement of completed scripts and detailed budget plans before shoot-
ing, early publicity including trailers and cross-media promotions, none of
which have been commonly practised in Hong Kong.5 Big budgets and the
latest special effects are now trendy in Hong Kong. These are interpreted
as a sign of the territory’s ability to produce on a par with Hollywood.
While the strengthening of the relationship with overseas markets,
including China’s, is one of the most noticeable characteristics of the local
film industry after 1997, the industry’s production centre – its ownership,
 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997 127
its economic contribution and its main market – remains in Hong Kong.
Even though the industry is seen to be diverting its forces elsewhere, such
companies as Golden Harvest Pictures (China), China Star, Media Asia,
and such medium-sized studios as BOB, Milkway and Emperor have so far
remained controlled by Hong Kong investments. This very much meets
the expectations of the local community who feel that too much ‘Holly-
woodisation’ or even internationalisation, is a real threat to the cultural
identity of Hong Kong. What all of this suggests is that the Hong Kong
film industry continues to be fundamentally quasi-national.

Films
No radical changes can be discovered in the stylistic elements of Hong
Kong films after 1997. Local popular culture, social events and Chinese
literature remain major sources for narrative inspiration. Manfred Wong’s
youth and triads series Guhuo zai / Young and Dangerous, Wang Jing’s
series on metropolitan sex and violence, and Ann Hui’s Bansheng yuan /
Eighteen Springs are only a few of the many adaptations of local cartoons,
gossip magazines and Chinese literature. Hong Kong society remains the
cinematic centre of the local film. The social impacts of the handover and
the Asian economic crisis are depicted in many films, most directly in Fruit
Chan’s Xilu xiang/ Little Cheung, Qunian yanhua tebie duo/The Longest
Summer, and Lingo Lim’s Mulu xionguang / Victim.
So far there has not been any particular film genre that has dominated
Hong Kong cinema. Nor have any new genres emerged since 1997.
Instead, a variety of genres have been equally popular, such as police and
crime, youth triads, thriller and melodrama. In comparison, comedy and
swordplay films have been particularly weak. New stars have risen, while
the pre-1997 stars remain a dominant force, now perceived more strongly
as Hong Kong symbols, especially in co-production films. As the number
of co-production films has increased since 1997, non-Chinese and Chinese
actors from Japan, South Korea, America and Singapore appear more fre-
quently in Hong Kong films. More and more films are multi-lingual with
narratives about cross-cultural romances and international businesses. Co-
production is becoming a trend in the industry; it has been, and will con-
tinue to be, an important factor affecting cinematic style in Hong Kong.
Hong Kong’s return has not encouraged the local film industry to
explore further the territory’s relationship with China in the cinematic
space. In representing the mainland, geopolitical cultural identity con-
tinues to be perceived as the main difference between the mainland
Chinese and Hong Kong residents. As I argued in Chapter 6, Johnny
Mak’s Long Arm of the Law discloses Hong Kong’s fear for the invasion
of the mainland Chinese. This fear is revealed again, for example, in Zeng
Jinchang’s Kongbu ji / Intruder (1997). The film depicts a series of brutal
murders and kidnappings committed by a mainland Chinese woman in
128 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997
order to gain a Hong Kong identity card for her husband. She seduces a
Hong Kong taxi-driver and disables him by driving a car over his legs. She
then tortures him to get information about his past before killing him, so
that her husband can assume his identity. To round things off, she murders
the taxi-driver’s mother and attempts to kill his daughter. The barbarians
from the north knocking at Hong Kong’s door.
The pre-1997’s theme that the mainland Chinese are economically infe-
rior is revised after 1997. From a more sympathetic perspective, Fruit
Chan’s Liunian piaopiao /Durian, Durian (2000) portrays the experiences
of a young mainland woman and a 10-year old girl in Hong Kong. The film
constructs a wide economic gap between the mainland and Hong Kong
Chinese, caused by differences in geopolitical identity. The woman is in
Hong Kong on a 3 months’ work permit as a masseuse and prostitute,
while the girl is on a visiting visa with her family. The girl stays at a shabby
house helping her mother washing dishes for a living. Within her 3 months
stay in Hong Kong, the woman has not had a day for herself, resting, shop-
ping or visiting tourist sites. She serves 36 clients on her last day in Hong
Kong, working till the last minute before her visa expires. Her instant
economic ‘success’ is envied by relatives and friends on the mainland,
many of whom desire to pursue a promising ‘career’. Golden Harvest’s co-
production with the mainland studio also present similar images about
China. Para Para Lakuria (2001), a Kung Fu musical, is a romance
between a Hong Kong dance coach and a wealthy Japanese woman in
Shanghai. In the film, China’s economic prosperity is shown through
images of skyscrapers, night clubs, and a luxurious apartment in Shanghai.
However, the film creates two economic classes – the Hong Kong ‘expatri-
ate’ who consumes China’s ‘capitalist’ lifestyle, and the local Chinese
excluded from economic privilege.
Nor has Hong Kong’s return to China encouraged the industry to
participate in the exploration and construction of Hong Kong’s history.
‘History’ it seems has been considerably reduced as a motif, and is often
replaced by a certain loss of memory in the post-1997 films. Jackie Chan’s
Wo shi shui / Who Am I? (1998) is about a man who searches for his iden-
tity after he loses his memory during events involving an international
team of scientists and soldiers. The protagonist Jackie Chan, the only sur-
vivor, is rescued by an African tribe. When the chief wants to know his
name, Jackie Chan asks himself: ‘Who am I?’ ‘Who am I?’ subsequently
becomes his name, as well as his goal for seeking his lost identity. In the
process of his search, he inadvertently assists the CIA in solving the ‘mys-
terious’ air-accident in which ‘who am I?’ is the only survivor. By the end
of the film, the audience has not been given the real identity of ‘who am I’.
However, as the man speaks Cantonese, and is acted by Jackie Chan, we
assume that ‘who am I’ is a Hongkongese who works as part of the inter-
national team. As Hong Kong film critic Li Cheuk-to (1999: 90) suggests,
what the film reveals is that geopolitical identity is no more important than
 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997 129
one’s surviving skill. The character has no name, no past and nationality,
and yet his skills enable him to survive in Africa, Europe and America.
The film indicates a rejection by Hong Kong of its new political cultural
identity as the People’s Republic’s citizen.
Memory loss becomes a frequent narrative motif in the post-1997 films.
Whether the ‘past’ is too ‘difficult’ to recall or too painful to remember,
identity cannot be articulated without a past. Likewise, concealing one’s
‘past’ is a rejection of one’s present identity. In Ann Hui’s Qianyan wanyu
/ Ordinary Heroes (1999), a female social worker ‘loses’ her memory in
order to replace the past by a new life. The protagonist in Fruit Chan’s
The Longest Summer is happy and content only after his memory of the
pre-1997 days is lost. Chen Deshen’s Ziyu fengbao /Purple Storm (1999)
deals with a man who is troubled by ‘remembering’ the false past of his
identity. In addition, local film critic Sek Kei (2000: 165) observes that
orphan identity is a popular theme in the post-1997 films. For instance,
major characters in Huanying degong / Hot War (1998), Annamadelianna/
Anna Magdalena (1998), Quanzhi dadao / The Group (1998), and Fengyun
xiongba tianxia / The Stormriders (1998) grow up in orphanages or survive
without knowing where they have come from.
Boli Zicheng / City of Glass (1998) is one of a few films that deals with
Hong Kong’s past after 1997. The film will illustrate the idea that the life
of Hong Kong people has been shaped by the triangular relationship
between the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and the territory: a
major theme that deals with Hong Kong’s past before 1997. City of Glass
is a romance between two graduates of the University of Hong Kong. The
couple fall in love in the 1960s, get married to different persons in the
1980s, meet and fall in love again in the mid 1990s, and die in a car acci-
dent in London on the New Year’s Eve, 1997. As their spouses refuse to
identify them, their children are called upon to deal with legal procedures
involving property, which the lovers had bought without letting their
families know. In the process, the children discover much about their
parents’ past (a past of Hong Kong) and, in addition, they themselves fall
in love.
City of Glass is a film that indulges in nostalgic images of the colonial
education system, much of its architecture and lifestyle being framed in
soft lighting and soft focus. The plot develops around Hong Kong’s rela-
tion with Britain and China. The lovers are both educated in a colonial
institution. Driven by the Chinese nationalism of the early 1970s, the male
protagonist participates in the protests against the Japanese claim of the
Diaoyu islands. As a consequence, he is expelled from the university, and
subsequently leaves the colony for Paris to further his education. The man
returns to Hong Kong in the mid-1990s to expand his business with the
mainland as the year 1997 is approaching. He meets his former lover in a
Mandarin class. The love story ends at London’s Westminster Bridge in
1997, indicating the closing chapter in the triangular relationship of Hong
130 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997
Kong. The film also reveals the deep admiration and nostalgia amongst
Hong Kong’s elite for the coloniser. Both give their own child a Chinese
name, Kangqiao (Westminster Bridge), even though one is born in Paris
and the other in Hong Kong.
Few of the territory’s films after 1997 have continued the exploration of
Hong Kong’s identity in terms of sovereignty and recognition. Instead, a
number of films disclose psychological moods after the handover. Fear and
depression are shown in the portrayal of the Hong Kong landscape. In
Johnny To’s series of popular and award winning films, Feichang turan /
Expect the Unexpected (1998), Anzhan / Running Out Time (1999),
Qianhuo / The Mission (1999), or Ringo Lim’s Gaodu jiebei / Full Alert
(1998), Hong Kong’s skyscrapers and shopping centres are presented as
sites for potential dangers threatening unexpectedly and suddenly in ele-
vators, air-conditioned tunnels, nearby streets and parking areas. In con-
trast to the 1980s Michael Hui’s comedies, Cinema City’s series of Aces
Goes Palaces, or Jackie Chan’s series of Police Story, Hong Kong’s pride
in its modern buildings and confidence in the control of its technology are
absent in the post-1997 films. A sense of uncontrollable destiny also
unfolds in Wai Ka-fai’s Yige zitou de danshen / Too Many Ways to be No.
1 (1998). The film is about a man who faces two choices. It doesn’t matter
which choice he makes, the end result is the same no matter which path he
choses. Similarly Wang Kai-wai’s Huayang nianhua / In the mood for love
(2000) depicts feelings of uncertainty in the story of a couple who try to
cope with their spouses’ adultery.
Depression is another recurring mood in the post-1997 films. The last
Best Award’s winning film in the colonial era, Fruit Chan’s Xianggang
zhizhao / Made in Hong Kong (1997) displays a picture of despair on the
eve of the city’s return to China. Throughout the film Hong Kong is pre-
sented in under-exposed lighting, with images of narrow dark corridors,
streets crowded with vehicles in disarray, wire fences along a playground,
and buildings framed largely in high or low angles. The plot is about four
teenagers who grow up in the public housing area just before 1997. San is
sixteen and a devoted Christian. She commits suicide as she cannot cope
with her intimate relationship with her school teacher. Long is mentally
disabled, and a victim of sexual assault. He is beaten to death shortly after
his only protector, Chau, falls ill. Chau is unemployed. He dies after he
kills the leader of the murderers who have beaten Long to death. Unable
to obtain a kidney, Ping dies at the age of sixteen, shortly after she falls in
love with Chau. In this film, death is the only way to obtain peace. The
only happy moments of these teenagers occur in the graveyard. In a series
of long-distance shots, Chau, Long and Ping are jumping cheerfully from
the top of one grave to another, calling out for dead San, whom they have
never met. The graveyard is the only place where they are able to express
their love for each other, embracing and kissing.
The death theme runs deep throughout the film. The story begins with
 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997 131
Long who passes Chau two letters which he picks up from San’s body after
she has jumped off a high rise building, dying on the ground. The film pro-
gresses with Chau’s gradual comprehension of his own surroundings and
death. As he narrates: ‘The world is changing faster than people can adapt
to it’; ‘Death is beautiful, because there is no need to face the uncertain
world’; and ‘Die young, we will be forever young.’ The film ends with Mao
Zedong’s words to the youth during the Cultural Revolution:

The world belongs to you and me. But ultimately, the world will
belong to you. You, so full of energy, are having the best time of the
lives, like the early morning sun. All our hopes are placed on the
young.

On the eve of the territory’s return to China in 1997, and with Mao’s
quotation at the end of the film, Made in Hong Kong presents the colony
as a dying community.
Fruit Chan’s other award winning picture, Little Chueng (1999), depicts
changes in Hong Kong after 1997 from the perspective of a 9-year old boy.
Little Chueng is born in Hong Kong, named after the most beloved local
opera singer and film star, Brother Chueng. The son of a small restaurant
owner, Little Chueng helps his father deliver food to neighbouring cus-
tomers on his bicycle. He grows up in a crowded and disordered street,
with his playground on an empty truck. And yet Cheung is a free and
happy child loved by his grandmother, his Philippino nanny, and neigh-
bours. His happiness gradually diminishes as we approach July 1997: his
Philippino nanny is leaving; his grandmother is losing her passion for
talking about the past; and the customers are beginning to leave Hong
Kong. Most importantly, his best friend, Ah Fen, is forced to return to
China.
Through his portrayal of an innocent childhood, Fruit Chan reveals a
deep tension between Hong Kong and China. Ah Fen’s disabled father is a
Hong Kong citizen, whereas Ah Fen is a mainland resident. After many
years’ waiting to obtain a Hong Kong residence, Ah Fen’s father pays a
great deal of money to arrange for his daughter to join him in Hong Kong,
hoping that the Chinese government will grant her the right to stay after
1997. From Little Cheung’s perspective, the film portrays the difference in
geopolitical identity: Ah Fen doesn’t go to school, and she always hides
when she sees a policeman. In this way, the film intensifies the difference
in identity. Ah Fen tells Little Cheung:

I am looking forward to 1 July. Because by that day, I will be able to

stay in Hong Kong. Hong Kong will be ours after 1 July.

Instead of congratulating Ah Fen, Little Cheung is irritated by her remark,

and replies: ‘Hong Kong is ours!’ In response, Ah Fen repeats: “It is ours!”
132 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997
Their voices of ‘Hong Kong is ours’ resound over Victoria Harbour, a
scene articulating Hong Kong’s misgivings.
The theme of the psychological consequences of China’s recovery of
the territory is vividly dealt with in Fruit Chan’s The Longest Summer
(1998). To borrow a sentence from Chau, the protagonist in Made in Hong
Kong, ‘the world is changing faster than people can adapt to it’. The film
depicts the confusion experienced by five British Chinese soldiers from 31
March 1997, the disbanding of Hong Kong Military Service, to one year
after the handover. As the five British Chinese soldiers have lost touch
with Hong Kong society after more than 25 years of service in their mili-
tary compound, their opportunities of re-employment are slight. Under
pressure from their families and desperate for financial security, they
reluctantly join triad gangs planning a bank robbery. Unexpectedly, one
member is killed, while the protagonist’s brother is mysteriously missing,
together with their stolen money. Troubled by the clash between the
moral and social values he has grown up with and the reality of Hong
Kong in 1997, the protagonist is unable to control himself, letting himself
get embroiled in a gang-fight with teenagers. As a result, he is injured and
loses his memory. Ironically, his loss of memory makes him a happy
person. The film portrays Hong Kong as a victim of an uncontrollable
destiny. Pain and the crisis of identity can be solved only after the loss of
the memories of the past. This message is underlined symbolically by the
portrayal of the Hong Kong landscape before and after 1997: the year
1997 is shadowed by heavy rain clouds over a chaotic society, whereas the
post-1997 Hong Kong is constructed under a blue sky, with clean even if
empty streets.
The retreat of the British and the return of Hong Kong to its mother-
land have not caused a dramatic impact on Hong Kong’s perception of self
in the cinematic space. Hong Kong continues to see itself as a distinct
geopolitical community. We may ask why the change of the triangular
relationship in 1997 has had so little impact on the cinematic construction
of Hong Kong’s cultural identity. There are a number of reasons, of which
‘one country, two systems’ policy has played the most significant role. The
exclusion of Hong Kong films from the mainland market has not invited
the local film industry to explore the territory’s cultural identity in terms of
the political, economic and social integration with the mainland. Instead,
the policy has encouraged the industry to seek overseas investment and
markets which, as has been shown, will lead Hong Kong to take an
increasingly global and pan-Asian outlook.

Film criticism
The least change in the overall perspective of Hong Kong cinema can be
observed in film criticism. All the trends analysed in Chapter 3 continue.
In the post-1997 period there are few signs indicating that film criticism,
 Hong Kong Cinema after 1997 133
film awards and film festivals are developing a closer relationship with the
mainland than in the pre-1997 era. Annual Hong Kong Golden Film
Awards and Hong Kong International Film Festival remain the two most
significant events Hong Kong film culture. Similar to pre-1997, Hong Kong
Film Archive has played a major role in selecting, shaping and producing
Hong Kong (film) history, as well as theorising the contemporary local film
culture. The relationship between the Hong Kong Film Archive and the
Chinese national film archive in Beijing, in the words of the territory’s
director of the film archive, Angle Tong, affects mainly archive technique,
rather than cultural and political supervision.
Hong Kong film critics remain a separate body from film critics in
China and Taiwan. As I mentioned in Chapter 3, local film criticism has
become even more so as we approach 1997. Two local film critics associ-
ations, the Hong Kong Film Critics Society and Hong Kong Film Critics
Association, were established in the mid-1990s. Since then both associ-
ations have organised seminars, distributed their own critics’ film awards,
and produced their critical collections. Their publications focus on Hong
Kong films with little reference to films from China and Taiwan.
The obvious change is the SAR government’s attitude towards Hong
Kong cinema. The post-1997 period has shown that the relationship
between the local film industry and the government is strengthening. In
this respect, Hong Kong cinema is becoming more quasi-national than it
had been in the colonial period. Although the colonial administration
participated in the promotion of Hong Kong films, it is the SAR govern-
ment which has committed funds to promote Hong Kong cinema. For the
first time, Hong Kong film culture has been put on the governmental
agenda in the SAR’s initial financial report. In the report, the Chief Exec-
utive, Tung Chee-hwa, schedules various projects designed to assist the
Hong Kong film industry. Since then a special branch to assist film produc-
tion has been established. The government has also granted land for estab-
lishing film studios. In 1998 the government moved a further step by
budgeting HK$10 million for the creation of Hong Kong Film Develop-
ment Council. The fund is available for both the production and promo-
tion of Hong Kong cinema.
Conclusion
Hong Kong cinema and
quasi-national cinema

My starting point in this book involved looking at the ‘national’ cinema of

Hong Kong – recognised as a geopolitical cultural entity and exhibiting
characteristics of national cinema – and at its development in a territory
which was not a sovereign nation but a British colony. I have not taken the
conventional approach to Hong Kong cinema, which tends to focus on the
relationship between China and Hong Kong. My approach – focusing on the
triangular relationship between the British coloniser, the Chinese mother-
land and Hong Kong self – has enabled me to take a broader perspective.
Two major points emerge from this study. I will summarise each of
these briefly below. First, the book demonstrates that national identity in
the cinematic context cannot be taken for granted. It shows that, histori-
cally, a country’s cinema can be in the process of metamorphosis while
that country’s legal status remains unchanged. Furthermore, such change
can subvert the geopolitical identity of a territory. The book shows that
the triangular relationship between Britain, China and Hong Kong was the
key determinant of the cultural identity of Hong Kong cinema throughout
the period of Hong Kong’s government by the British coloniser. The trian-
gular relationship created conditions that allowed Hong Kong cinema to
function as part of Chinese national cinema in the first half of the twenti-
eth century, as Chinese diasporic cinema from the mid-1950s to the late
1970s, and as Hong Kong quasi-national cinema from the late 1970s.
In the first half of the twentieth century China’s domination in the local
film industry’s modus operandi of production, distribution and evaluation
developed as a result of the triangular relationship. The British colonial
government practised dual policies based on racial difference, which con-
sequently encouraged the local Chinese to seek a sense of belonging to
and security from the mainland. Their political and cultural identifications
with the mainland allowed China to play a major role in Hong Kong
cinema. Freedom of movement between the colony and the mainland also
strengthened China’s political, economic and cultural relations with Hong
Kong. The triangular relationship provided the conditions for the film
industry in the British colony to function as part of Chinese national
cinema.
 Conclusion 135
Further changes in the triangular relationship in the 1950s and 1960s
resulted in the demise of China’s influence on the Hong Kong film indus-
try. The British and Chinese governments prohibited free movement
between the colony and China from 1950. Their policy had a great impact
on political, economic and cultural relations between Hong Kong and the
mainland. Nevertheless, the existence of two separate racial communities
in Hong Kong continued, through support from the colonial government’s
minimum involvement with the local community. Lack of a distinct Hong
Kong cultural identity or of community awareness allowed the South-East
Asian Chinese to take a leading role in the local film industry. As a con-
sequence, and backed by their South-East Asian domestic film markets,
they shaped the Hong Kong film industry into a Chinese film-making
centre for Chinese communities beyond the communist mainland.
The triangular relationship was further modified after China readjusted
its policies towards Hong Kong in the late 1960s. Internal political strug-
gles and the national Cultural Revolution reinforced the Beijing govern-
ment’s decision to ‘leave’ Hong Kong under British colonial governance
with minimal interference. Hong Kong’s fast economic development in the
1960s – its economic potential and actual achievement – encouraged and
enabled the colonial government to partake in ‘nation-building’ pro-
grammes. The government established social welfare systems to improve
the lifestyle of the community. It promoted community awareness through
cultural activities and, more significantly, included local Chinese in the
government’s decision-making processes. At the same time, China’s Cul-
tural Revolution directly contributed to the construction of the Hong
Kong community by ‘encouraging’ Hong Kong Chinese to identify with
the British colony. By the late 1970s, Hong Kong’s economic achievement
had boosted the community’s confidence. Not only did the community
take control of the Hong Kong film industry, but it also used Hong Kong
cinema as a cultural space to negotiate political boundaries in the triangu-
lar relationship between the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and
Hong Kong. This study has shown that changes in the triangular relation-
ship were catalysts in the evolution of the cultural identity of Hong Kong
cinema.
The second point to emerge from this study is that, at any given
moment, a country’s cinema does not necessarily reflect its geopolitical
status in all its facets. The book shows that while film production and exhi-
bition articulate one type of political identity for Hong Kong, the country’s
film texts and film criticism do not necessarily reproduce that same iden-
tity.
In the period between the late 1970s and late 1990s, which is my central
concern, the Hong Kong film industry displayed characteristics similar to
those of a national film industry. The industry was predominantly owned
by members of the local community, even though it had always attracted
overseas investments. It was subject to Hong Kong laws and regulations,
136 Conclusion
made contributions to the local economy, and produced films that
responded to local political and social tensions. The industry was also
shaped by input from the colonial government through censorship, various
schemes of assistance in film-making and the promotion of Hong Kong
film culture. This relationship between the Hong Kong film industry and
its community suggested that the former possessed some characteristics
typical of national cinema, which generated a ‘national’ identity for Hong
Kong.
In terms of an exhibition-led film market or of film consumption, Hong
Kong films were mainstream products, along with Hollywood films, con-
sumed by the local community. Hong Kong films provided local spectators
with a unique experience of cultural fantasy, especially in negotiating and
communicating their views on the triangular relationship, which Holly-
wood films, other national films and films from China and Taiwan were
unable to supply. In relation to overseas markets, from the 1970s the
industry no longer produced films targeting the ethnically based film
market of the Chinese diaspora, but engaged in exploring the mainstream
markets in other nations by presenting images of Chinese cultural identity.
The domestic and overseas film markets’ expectations of Hong Kong films
produced a specific cultural character for Hong Kong films, recognised and
defined by a geopolitical identity as one type of national cinema.
At the same time, however, Hong Kong cinema betrayed its ambiguity
as a national cinema in the areas of film criticism and film texts. Critical
discourses on Hong Kong cinema have mainly contributed to an under-
standing of its films as constituting a national cinema. As with critical dis-
courses on other national cinemas, writing about the Hong Kong film
industry, Hong Kong film history and film products expresses a desire to
identify and define the territory’s cinema in relation to the ‘ideal’ of
national cinema. Yet writing about Hong Kong cinema in relation to
Chinese traditional aesthetics and art forms has remained, even though
criticism from this perspective has been considerably less popular since the
1970s. However, Lau Shing-hon’s studies of Hong Kong cinema (1991) in
the 1980s emphasise the relationship between Hong Kong films and
Chinese classical poems and traditional philosophy. In addition, Lin Nien-
tung (1984) argues that Hong Kong films after 1948 inherited and shared
the cinematic aesthetics of Chinese national films in the 1930s and 1940s.
On the one hand these cultural and critical evaluations of Hong Kong
films assisted the counterbalancing of Hong Kong cinema against Holly-
wood, the mainland and Taiwanese films. On the other hand, a number of
critical evaluations of Hong Kong films also represented Hong Kong
cinema as part of Chinese national cinema.
I have argued that Hong Kong cinema projected a quasi-national iden-
tity in two main areas: geopolitical cultural distinction and film narratives.
As far as geopolitical distinction is concerned, national cinema can be con-
sidered within certain stylistic and thematic parameters, which relate to a
 Conclusion 137
nation’s film culture to produce a relatively homogeneous national cultural
identity.
Selecting from original literary texts, Hong Kong screen adaptations
have used Hong Kong cultural texts as much as they have relied on
China’s classic literature and folklore. China’s historical and cultural
resources, stylistic and generic conventions and Cantonese regional cul-
tural traditions have always played an important role in the aesthetic and
thematic dimension of Hong Kong film genres, such as martial arts, come-
dies, ghost stories and melodrama. Film performance and star images con-
struct and present images of both Hong Kong and China. Given that
national identity depends on exclusion to make sense of itself, the cultural
distinction of Hong Kong perceived as both Hong Kong and China pro-
duced for film a quasi-national identity. Film is quasi-national, because its
texts were based on both the exclusion and the inclusion of China’s
cultural identity.
In the area of narrative, Hong Kong films have told the story of a dis-
tinct and organic community in Hong Kong, where geopolitical territorial
boundaries and this ‘nation’ have been imagined, defined and formed
through the triangular relationship between the coloniser, the motherland
and self. The analysis of films in Chapters 5 and 6 show how this unique
approach to imagining the territory produced Hong Kong as a quasi-
nation. Allen Fong’s Father and Son constructs Hong Kong as an indigen-
ous community through obscuring China’s role in the past of Hong Kong
and through emphasising the foreignness of the British culture in the
colony. Ann Hui’s Song of the Exile produces Hong Kong as a unique
community whose members shared the commonality of exclusion from
China and Britain. Jackie Chan’s Project A and its sequel defined the
Hong Kong community by drawing boundaries in the triangular relation-
ship between the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong
Kong. Johnny Mak’s Long Arm of the Law constructs the community
without any political power of its own. In Mak’s film, Hong Kong can only
be made visible through its identification with the British colonial system
excluding China, and through identification with Chinese nationalism
excluding the coloniser. Without being exclusively focused on the triangu-
lar relationship, Stanley Kwan’s Full Moon in New York constructs the
‘self’ in relation to other geopolitically defined Chinese communities.
However, Kwan’s construction of ambiguity suggests border-crossing
within Hong Kong’s geopolitical identity: Hong Kong cannot be satisfacto-
rily defined in geopolitical terms. Evans Chan’s To Liv(e) articulates the
knowable political entity of Hong Kong: a ‘nation’ lacking recognition by
Britain or China, and, furthermore, lacking recognition by the inter-
national community. The triangular relationship between the coloniser,
the motherland and self is not typical of the process of articulating a
nation; however, the process of imagining and articulating a Hong Kong
that was reliant on such a triangular relationship resulted in the territory’s
138 Conclusion
quasi-national identity. Hong Kong is quasi-national, because it can only
be made sense of as an imagined nation, through recognising and repre-
senting its dependence on the triangular relationship between coloniser,
motherland and self.
I have used the term ‘quasi-national’ to define Hong Kong cinema from
the late 1970s to the late 1990s to highlight the ambiguities and imperfec-
tions in the cinematic articulation of a Hong Kong ‘national’ identity.
Hong Kong cinema is to be perceived as quasi-national, because it cannot
be viewed on the same terms as other national cinemas. On the one hand,
Hong Kong film production and markets share the characteristics of their
national cinema counterparts. On the other hand, Hong Kong film criti-
cism and film products have displayed quasi-national characteristics. In the
cinematic context, a Hong Kong identity was constructed through geopo-
litical definition, but this was not a British colonial identity focusing on the
relationship between the coloniser and the colonised. Rather, it was a
quasi-national identity dependent on the triangular relationship between
the British coloniser, the Chinese motherland and Hong Kong. As the tri-
angular relationship was crucial to realising Hong Kong as an imagined
community, Hong Kong’s identity in the cinematic context relied on the
partial exclusion and inclusion of both a British colonial identity and a
mainland cultural identity. It is from the relationship between national
identity and cinema that I present Hong Kong cinema as a quasi-national
cinema.
Hong Kong’s return to China has not yet caused any drastic changes in
the territory’s cinema. Neither the pre-1997 fear of a restriction of
freedom of expression, nor the hope for an opening of the mainland
market have been warranted. China’s ‘one country, two systems’ policy
and the Asian economic crisis so far have sustained Hong Kong cinema as
quasi-national. As the mainland market continues to be closed to the
industry, and with the pressure of a diminution of the domestic market,
the Hong Kong film industry keeps its ‘tradition’ of targeting for a wide
range of markets across ethnic and national boundaries.
Notes

1 Hong Kong cinema as part of Chinese national cinema 1913–56

1 Both Cheng and Du acknowledge the contribution from the Hong Kong film
industry in producing anti-Japanese war films. However, both also accused the
industry for ‘falling back’ on commercial films. See Cheng 1966, vol.2, pp.86–8;
Du 1986b, vol.2, pp.39–40.
2 Neither the Guomindang nor the Communists appreciated martial arts films
and traditional costume films at the time. They regarded these films as promot-
ing feudalism. I deal with this issue in the third section.
3 This was not totally true. In Law Kar’s interview, Lu Dun revealed that, before
Zhonglian was formally established, the production house had already made a
deal with Cathay Distribution, the largest Chinese film distribution in Malaysia
that the former would pay a higher than average price for Zhonglian’s films.
4 In this book I use Roman to indicate those Chinese films for which English
titles are not available and are translated by myself. Italics indicate an original
English title for the film.

2 Hong Kong cinema as Chinese diasporic cinema 1956–79

1 Li was born in Northern China, and trained at Beijing Art Academy. He
migrated to Hong Kong in the late 1940s, and worked at Yonghua and Shaw
Brothers. He was regarded as one of the most successful directors of the late
1950s and 1960s. He received a number of awards from the Asian Film Festival
in 1958, 1959 and 1960 including Best Director and Best Films, in addition to
an interior cinematography award from Cannes in 1961.
2 Personal interviews with Law Kar on 1 March 1994 and Ng Ho on 4 March
1994. Both were active film critics for The Chinese Studenty Weekly.

3 Hong Kong film production, market and criticism 1979–97

1 Personal interview with Joey Kong (Kong Cho Yee), Chairman of Hong Kong
Theatres Association, on 17 February 1994, Hong Kong.
2 Personal interview with Assistant Secretary for Recreation and Culture, Mr.
Kam-yin Wu, Recreation and Culture Branch, Government Secretariat, Hong
Kong, on 7 March 1994.
3 Letter from Broadcasting, Culture and Sport Branch Government Secretariat
of Hong Kong to Motion Picture Industry Association Hong Kong on
‘Government’s Position on the Proposal to set up a Film Commission in Hong
Kong’, 27 June 1996.
140 Notes
4 Personal interview with Senior Manager of Hong Kong Film Archive, Cynthia
Liu, on 25 February 1994.
5 In my interview with Li Cheuk-to on 29 November 1993, his only criticism of
Hong Kong Cinema in the Eighties, published by Hong Kong Urban Council,
was that the collection ‘contains too many views from the outside’, and ‘it is
our publication which should reflect Hong Kong’s view’.

4 Hong Kong films: The cultural specificity of quasi-national film

1 In addition, there were a number of popular Cantonese screen adaptations of
Hong Kong radio plays in the 1950s and the early 1960s. However, these radio
plays are about broken families, orphans and widows, the oppression of tradi-
tional society, all set against a background of the mainland war period. Origin-
ally a well-known broadcaster and story teller in Guangzhou, Li Wo migrated
to Hong Kong in 1949 and worked at Radio Rediffusion. About forty Can-
tonese films were made based on his radio plays. See Ng Ho, ‘Diantai guangbo
ju yu Yueyu pian de guanxi’ (Radio Plays and the Cantonese Cinema); Ng Ho,
‘Li Wo, tiankong xiaoshuo, dianying’ (Li Wo, Air-wave novels and Cinema) in
Cantonese Melodrama 1950–1969: 57–66.
2 For instance, a number of Li Hanxiang’s filmic adaptations of classical liter-
ature, such as The Plum in the Golden Vase and The Dream of the Red
Chamber.
3 For instance, Ann Hui’s film Qingcheng zhi lian / Lover in a Fallen City (1984)
is based on Shanghai writer Zhang Ailing’s (Eileen Chang’s) Qingcheng zhi
lian. Tsui Hark’s Qiannü youhun / Chinese Ghost Story (1987) is also based on
the classic ghost literature Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. However, these
films can also be read with the consciousness of local context. Ann Hui’s film is
widely seen by Hong Kong film critics as using Shanghai to depict Hong
Kong’s situation on the eve of China’s take over. And Tsui Hark’s film is also
seen as the version based on Hong Kong director Li Hanxiang’s classic Qiannü
youhun / Chinese Ghost Story (1960), which was originally from Strange Tales
from a Chinese Studio.
4 The following films immediately come to mind: Yeung Fan’s Meigui de gushi /
The Story of Rose (1986), Liujin suiyue / Last Romance (1988), Gordon Chan’s
Xiao nanren zhouji / The Yuppie Fantasia (1989), Stanley Kwan’s Yanzhi kou /
Rouge (1988), Clara Law’s Pan Jinlian zhi qianshi jinsheng / The Reincarnation
of Golden Lotus (1989), Clifton Ko’s Wo he chuntian you ge yuehui / I Have a
Date with Spring (1994), and Ban wo tongxing / One of the Lucky Ones (1994),
and Tsui Hark’s Qing she / Green Snake (1995).
5 To list just a few examples, Laoguo jie / Bank-busters (1980), Tiantang meng /
Way to Hell (1980), Acan zhengzhuan / Story of a Refugee (1980), Acan dang
chai / The Sweet and Sour Cops (1980), Acan you nan / Prohibited Area (1981),
Lüyin / The Cold Blooded Murder (1981), Acan chuqian / An Honest Crook
(1981), Xiquan zai / Once Upon a Mirage (1981), Jia zai Xianggang / Home at
Hong Kong (1983), Shandong kuang ren / The Man is Dangerous (1985),
Shenggang qibing / Long Arm of the Law (1984), Jianghu liaoduan / Pursuit of
a Killer (1985), Shenggang qibing (II) / Long Arm of the Law (II) (1987),
Woyao taowang / Set me Free (1988), Gongzi duo qing / Greatest Lover (1988),
Shenggang fengyun /Border Line Story (1988), Hejia huan / Mr. Coconut
(1988), Biaojie, nihao ye! / Her Fatal Ways (1990).
6 A similar argument is also developed in Jenny Kwok-wah Lau’s PhD thesis, A
Cultural Interpretation of the Popular Cinema of China and Hong Kong,
1981–1985 (Northwestern University, 1989a: 292): ‘Although apparently West-
ernized, the Hong Kong films are thus still fundamentally Chinese. Similar to
 Notes 141
the films from China, they are very much bounded by and are uncritical of
their own form of Chinese culture.’
7 In 1977, the Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC) in Hong
Kong prosecuted 272 police officers of whom 145 were convicted. The number
of police officers arrested in October angered the police unions. On 28
October, over 2,000 policemen marched on the office of the Commissioner of
Police, and later attacked the ICAC headquarters, injuring some staff
members. As a result, the governor announced a partial amnesty on 5 Novem-
ber.
8 See Michael Hui’s Guima shuangxing / Games Gamblers Play (1974), Tiancai
yu baichi / The Last Message (1975), Banjin baliang / The Private Eyes (1976),
Maishen qi / The Contract (1978).
9 See Zhang Che’s Da juedou / The Duel (1971), Quan ji / Duel of Fists (1971),
Ma Yongzhen / The Boxer from Shantung (1972), Cima / Blood Brothers
(1973), Hong quan yu yong chun / Shaolin Martial Arts (1974), Baguo lianjun /
The Boxer Rebellion (1976).
10 See Li Hanxiang’s Jinping shuangyan / The Golden Lotus (1974), Qingguo
qingcheng / The Empress Dowager (1975), Yingtai qixue / The Last Tempest
(1976), Nianhua recao / Crazy Sex (1975), Fenghua xueyue / Moods of Love
(1976), Qian Long xia Jiangnan / The Adventures of the Emperor Chien Lung
(1977), Qian Long xia Yangzhou / The Voyage of Emperor Chien Lung (1978).
11 See Chu Yuan’s Liuxing hudie jian / Killer Clans (1976), Tianya mingyue dao /
The Magic Blade (1976), Chu liuxiang / Clans of Intrigue (1977), Baiyu laohu /
Jade Tiger (1977), Duoqing jianke wuqing jian / The Sentimental Swordsman
(1977).
12 Personal interview with Ann Hui on 10 March 1994.
13 Pili xianfeng / Final Justice (1988), Long zai tian ya / Dragon Fight (1989), Du
xia / God of Gamblers (1990), Taoxue wei long / Fight Back to School (1991),
Haomen yeyan / The Banquet (1991), Xin jingwu men / Fist of Fury 1991
(1991), Shensi guan / Justice, My Foot (1992), Luding ji / Royal Tramp (1992),
Wu zhuangyuan Su qier / King of Beggars (1992), Ji Gong / The Mad Monk
(1993), Guochan lingling qi / From China with Love (1994), Xiyou ji / Chinese
Odessey (1995).

5 Hong Kong films: Cinematic constructions of Hong Kong history and

territory
1 Song of the Exile was filmed during the Beijing Students Democracy Move-
ment in 1989.
2 Personal interview with Ann Hui at Hong Kong University on 4 March 1994.

6 Hong Kong films: Cinematic constructions of Hong Kong’s quasi-

national identity
1 In general, Daquan zai refers to Red Guards; it particulary refers to those Red
Guards from Guangzhou who were sent to the countryside near Guangzhou
during the Cultural Revolution ‘Daquan zai’ means ‘kids from the big zone
(Guangzhou)’.

7 Hong Kong cinema after 1997

1 Interviews with Law Kar, Li Cheuk-to and Managing Director of Media Asia,
John Chueng on 22, 23 and 25 August 2001.
2 Interview with Law Kar on 23 August 2001 at Hong Kong Film Archive.
142 Notes
3 Interview with John Chueng on 23 August 2001 at Media Asia Hong Kong.
4 Interview with Joe Chueng, the President of the Hong Kong Film Directors
Association, 22 August 2001 at Mandarin Hotel Hong Kong.
5 Interviews with Joe Chueng and John Chueng.
Chinese glossary

Acheng / Zhong Acheng

Alex K.M Cheung / Zhang Guoming
Alfred Cheung / Zhang Jianting
Allen Fong / Fang Yuping
Ann Hui / Xu Anhua
ben shi tonggen sheng
bentu
bentu dianying
Bruce Lee / Li Xiaolong
Bu Wanchang
Cai Chusheng
Changcheng
changqi dasuan, chongfen liyong
Chen Canyun
Chen Lifu
Chen Qixiang
Chen Te
Chen Wen
Cheng Gang
chengzhang
Cherie Chung / Zhong Chuhong
Cheuk Pak-tong / Zhuo Botang
144 Chinese glossary

Chiao Hsiung-ping / Jiao Xiongping

Ching Siu-tung / Chen Xiaodong
Chow Yun-fat / Zhou Runfa
Chu Yuan
Clara Law / Luo Zuoyao
Clifton Ko / Gao Zhisen
Da texie
Da Zhonghua
Daguan
Danny Li / Li Xiuxian
Daoyan lianyi hui
Daquan zai
Eileen Chang / Zhang Ailing
Er Lang
Eric Kit-wai Ma / Ma Jiewei
Evans Yiu-Shing Chan / Chen Yaocheng
fengyun pian
fu, bi, xing
Ge You
Gong Li
gongtong ti
Gordon Chan / Chen Jiashang
Gu Long
Guangxu
Guangyi
Guangzhou
Gui Zhihong
Guilao
Guofang dianying
Guolian
 Chinese glossary 145

Guomindang
guopian
Guoyu pian
guzhuang pian
haiwai Huaren
Hanzu
He Dong / Robert Ho Tung
Hong Di
Huanan
Huanan dianying
huangmei xi
Huanle jinxiao
huaqiao
Huazi Ribao
huigui zuguo, rentong zuxian,
huiyin huidao
Jackie Chan / Cheng Long
jia qing
Jiang Boying
Jiang Jieshi
Jiang Wen
jianghu
Jin Yong / Zha Liangyong, Louis Cha
John Woo / Wu Yusen
Johnny Mak / Mai Dangxiong
Johnny To / Du qifeng
Kirk Wong / Huang Zhiqiang
Kwan Man-ching / Guan Wenqing
Lau Shing-hon / Liu Chenghan
Law Kar / Luo Ka
146 Chinese glossary

Lawrence Ah Mon / Liu Guochang

Leong Po-chih / Liang Puzhi
Leslie Cheung / Zhang Guorong
Li Beihai
Li Chenfeng
Li Cheuk-to / Li Zhuotao
Li Hanxiang
Li Minwei
Li Pik-wah / Li Bihua
Li Tie
Li Wo
li yi lian chi
Li Zhiyi
Li Zuyong
Lianbang
Lianhua
Liaozhai zhiyi
Lin Dai
Lin Nien-tung / Lin Niantong
Lingo Lim / Lin Lingdong
lishi jiyao
Lo Kwai-cheung / Luo Guixiang
Loke Wan Tao / Lu Yuntao
Lu Dun
Lu Yu
Luanshi zhi jia
Lunli
Luo Mingyou
Mable Cheung / Zhang Wanting
Maggie Cheung / Cheung Man-yuk /
Zhang Manyu
 Chinese glossary 147

Mei Lanfang
Manfred Wong / Wen Jun
Mai Dafei
meixue sixiang
Meng Chao
Michael Hui / Xu Guanwen
Michelle Yeoh / Yang Ziqiong
Minjian
Minxin
minzu
minzu qixi
Mo Kangshi
Nan Guo
Nanyang
Nanyue
Ng Ho / Wu Hao
Ng See-yuen / Wu Siyuan
Peter Chan / Chen Kexin
Po Leung Kuk / Bao liang ju
Qin Jian
Qingchun
qiren yingping
Qu Baiyin
Raymond Chow / Zou Wenhuai
renqing shigu
Ringo Lam / Lin Lingdong
Sammo Hung / Hong Jinbao
Shao Cunren
Shao Renmei / Runme Shaw
Shao Yifu / Run Run Shaw
148 Chinese glossary

Shao Zuiweng
shehui lunli
shennong
Shenzhen
Shu Kei / Shu Qi
Shu Shuen / Tang Shuxuan
Siqin Gaowa
Situ Huimin
Stanley Kwan / Guan Jinpeng
Stephen Chiau / Zhou Xingchi
Sylvia Chang / Zhang Aijia
Tai Shan
Teresa Tang / Deng Lijun
Tianyi
Tsui Hark / Xu Ke
Tung Wah / Donghua
Wai Kar-fai / Wei Jiahui
Wen Tianxiang
wen yi zai dao
Wong Kar-wai / Wang Jiawei
Wu Hui
Wu Xihao
wulitou
wuxia pian
Xia Yan
Xianggang ren
xiao ti zhong xin
xiaoxiong pian
Xie Xian
Xin Hua
 Chinese glossary 149

Xing-Zhong hui
Xinlian
Xu Hao
Yang Quan
Yan huang zisun
Yau Tai On Ping / Qiu Dai Anping
Ye Yiqun
Yeung Fan / Yang Fan
Yi Lin
yin yang
Yinguang
yingxiong pian
Yinmu
yishu guan
Yonghua
Yu Mo-wan / Yu Muyun
Yuen Kuei / Yuan Kui
Yueyu pian
Zhang Che
Zhang Minyi
Zhang Sen
Zhang Shankun
Zhang Yimou
Zhang Ying
Zhejiang
Zheng Zhengqiu
Zhongguo dianyin
Zhonghua minzu
Zhonglian
Zhou Gangming
150 Chinese glossary

Zhou Huashan
Zhu Ji
Zhu Shilin
Zhu Zijia
Zhuzhong jiu daode, jiu lunli, fayang zhonghua wenming, libi ouhua

ziyou gonghui
Filmography

Afu lao shijie / The Stupid Sailer, Ah Fook

Aiqing menghuan hao / Fascination Amour
A jihua / Project A
Alang de gushi / All About Ah Long
Acan chuqian / A Honest Crook
Acan dang chai / The Sweet & Sour Cops
Acan you nan / Prohibited Area
Acan zhengzhuan / Story of a Refugee
Afu zhengzhuan / The Little Man, Ah Fook
Anzhan / Running Out of Time
Ashi / Ashi
Ai zai biexian jijie / Farewell China
Annamadelianna / Anna Magdalena
Baguo lianjun / The Boxer Rebellion
Baicuo mihun zhen / The Misarranged Love Trap
Baijin long / White Golden Dragon
Baiyu laohu / Jade Tiger
Baiyun guxiang / White Cloud Village
Ban wo tongxing / One of the Lucky Ones
Banjin baliang / The Private Eyes
Bianyuan ren / Man on the Brink
Bansheng yuan / Eighteen Springs
152 Filmography

Biaojie, nihao ye! / Her Fatal Way

Bo hao / To be Number One
Boli zicheng / City of Glass
Chengji chalou / The Tea House
Chu liuxiang / Clans of Intrigue
Chun / Spring
Ci Ma / Blood Brothers
Da Juedou / The Duel
Da junfa / The Warlord
Da zhangfu / Operation Manhunt
Dage Cheng / Big Brother Cheng
Dalang taosha / Waves of the First Civil War
Daxiang li / The Country Bumpkin
Dengdai liming / Hong Kong 1941
Dianzhi bingbing / Cops and Robbers
Diexue shuangxiong / The Killer
Dong Cunrui / Dong Cunrui
Dongjing gonglue / Tokyo Riders
Du xia / God of Gamblers
Duoqing jianke wuqing jian /
The Sentimental Swordsman
Feiying jihua / Operation Condor
Feichang turan / Expect The Unexpected
Feng jie / The Secret
Fenghua xueyue / Moods of Love
Fengyun xiongba tianxia / The Stormriders
Fushi lianqu / To Liv(e)
Fuzi qing / Father and Son
Gaodu jiebei / Full Alert
Gong pu / Law with Two Phases
 Filmography 153

Gongyuan 2000 / 2000 AD 2000

Gongzi duo qing / Greatest Lover
Gudao tiantang / Orphan Island Paradise
Guima shuangxing / Games Gamblers Play
Guo hun / Soul of China
Guochan lingling qi / From China with Love
Guofu xinniang / A Mainland Bride
Guonan caizhu / The Tycoon Traitor
Haomen yeyan / The Banquet
Hejia huan / Mr. Coconut
Hong quan yu yong chun / Shaolin Martial Arts
Hongfan qu / Rumble in the Bronx
Hongqi pu / Legend of the Banner
Hongri / Red Sun
Hongse niangzi jun / Red Detachment of Women
Huang Feihong / Once Upon a Time in China
Huang tudi / Yellow Earth
Huangjia fan / The Law Enforcer
Huayang nianhua / In the Mood for Love
Huanying degong / Hot War
Hudie furen / Madame Butterfly
Huoku youlan / Orchid in the Fire
Huoshu yinhua xiangying hong / Bright Night
Huyue de gushi / The Story of Woo Viet
Ji Gong / The Mad Monk
Jia / Family
Jia zai Xianggang / Home at Hong Kong
Jiandan renwu / First Strike
Jianghu liaoduan / Pursuit of a killer
Jianyu fengyun / Prison on Fire
154 Filmography

Jimao xin / The Letter with feathers

Jingcha gushi / Police Story
Jingwu men / Fist of Fury
Jinping shuangyan / The Golden Lotus
Jinye xingguang canlan / Starry is the Night
Jitong yajiang / Chicken and Duck Talk
Ketu qiuhen / Song of the Exile
Kongbu ji / Intruder
Lai ke / Boy from Vietnam
Laoguo jie / Bank-busters
Lei luo zhuan / Lee Rock I
Lianzheng fengbao / Anti-corruption
Lin Azhen / Lim Ah Chun
Liunian piaopiao / Durian, Durian
Luyin / The Cold Blooded Murder
Liujin suiyue / Last Romance
Liuwang zhi ge / Song of the Exile
Liuxing hudie jian / Killer Clans
Long zai tian ya / Dragon Fight
Longhu fengyun / City on Fire
Longxiong hudi / Armour of God
Luding ji / Royal Tramp
Ma Yongzhen / The Boxer from Shantung
Maishen qi / The Contract
Manbo nulang / Mambo Girl
Meigui de gushi / The Story of Rose
Meishao nian de lian / Bishonen
Menglong guojiang / The Way of the Dragon
Minzu de housheng / Roar of the People
Mulu xiongguang / Victim
 Filmography 155

Nanyang abo / Uncle in Kuala Lumpur

Nanzheng beizhan / From Victory to Victory
Niangre yu dada / Nianre and Dada
Nianhua recao / Crazy Sex
Pan Jinlian zhi qianshi jinsheng /
The Reincarnation of Golden Lotus
Pili xianfeng / Final Justice
Qi jin gang / Seven Wonders
Qi xiaofu / Painted Face
Qian Long xia Jiangnan / The Adventures of the Emperor Chien Lung

Qian Long xia Yangzhou / The Voyage of Emperor Chien Lung

Qianhuo / The Mission

Qiang / The Wall
Qian nuyouhun / Chinese Ghost Story
Qianyan wanyu / Ordinary Heroes
Qibai wanyuan da jie an / Million Dollar Snatch
Qigai yingxiong / Hero of the Beggars
Qing she / Green Snake
Qingcheng zhi lian / Lover in a Fallen City
Qinggong mishi / Sorrows of the Forbidden City
Qingguo qingcheng / The Empress Dowager
Quan ji / Duel of Fists
Quanzhi dadao / The Group
Quanzhi shashou / Full Time Killer
Qunian yanhua tebie duo / The Longest Summer
Renzai Niuyue / Full Moon in New York
Shandong kuang ren / The Man is Dangerous
Shenggang fengyun / Border Line Story
156 Filmography

Shenggang qibing / Long Arm of the Law

Shenggang yihao tongji fan / Rock ’N’ Roll Cop
Shengming xian / Life
Shensi guan / Justice, My Foot
Shexing diaoshou / Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow
Shida cike / Ten Assassinations
Shida qi’an / Ten Sensational Cases
Shidi chuma / The Young Master
Shihao fengbo / Typhoon Signal No.10
shizi shang xia / Below the Lion Rock
Shouzu qingshen / Brother
Shu jian en chou lu / Romance of Book and Sword I & II
Siqianjin / Our Sister Hedy
Tangshan asao / Woman from China
Tangshan daxiong / The Big Boss
Taoxue wei long / Fight Back to School
Tiancai yu baichi / The Last Message
Tianchang dijiu / Everlasting Love
Tianxuan dilian / When I look Upon the Stars
Tianmimi / Comrade, it is almost a love story
Tiantang meng / Way to Hell
Tianya mingyue dao / The Magic Blade
Tiaohui / Jumping Ash
Tiexue qijing / Road Warriors
Touben nuhai / The Boat People
Wangfu shanxia / Beneath Mt. Wangfu
Wangzhong ren / The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
Wanshui qianshan / Crossing over Mountains and Rivers
Weilou chunxiao / In the Face of Demolition
Woai chufang / Kitchen
 Filmography 157

Wo he chuntian you ge yuehui /

I have a date with Spring
Wo shi shui / Who am I?
Woyao taowang / Set me Free
Wu Zetian / Empress Wu Tse Tien
Wu zhuang yuan Su qier / King of Beggar
Wuxun zhuan / The Story of Wuxun
Xianggang 73 / Hong Kong 73 73
Xianggang zhizhao / Made in Hong Kong
Xingyue tonghua / Moonlight Express
Xiao Guangdong / Little Guangdong
Xiao laohu / Little Tiger
Xiao nanren zhouji / The Yuppie Fantasia
Xiaobing zhangga / Zhangga, A Boy Soldier
Xilu xiang / Little Cheung
Xin da zhangfu / Operation Manhunt II
Xin jingwu men / Fist of Fury 1991
Xin nanxiong nandi / He Ain’t Heavy,
He’s My Father
Xin tixiao yinyuan / Lover’s Destiny
Xiquan zai / Once Upon a Mirage
Xiyou ji / Chinese Odessey
Xue ran xiangsi gu / Blood stains the
Valley of Love
Xuejian baoshan cheng / Blood Splashes
on Baoshan
Yan Ruisheng / Yan Ruisheng
Yanzhi / Rouge
Yanzhi kou / Rouge
Ye meigui zhilian / Wild, Wild Rose
Yelin yue / Moon Under the Palm Grove
158 Filmography

Yige haoren / Mr. Nice Guy

Yige zitou de danshen / Too Many Ways to
be No.1
Yinghua Yinghua / Para Para Sakura
Yingtai qixue / The Last Tempest
Yingxiong bense / A Better Tomorrow
Youji jinxing qu / March of the Guerrillas
Yunchang yanhou / Cinderella and her little Angels
Yunu siqing / Her Tender Heart
Zaijian Zhongguo / China Behind
Zan xiansheng yu Zhao Qianhua / Warriors Two
Zhonghua yingxiong / A Man Called Hero
Zhongnanhai baobiao / Bodyguard From Beijing
Zhu men yuan / Sorrow of the Gentry
Zhuangzi shi qi / Zhuangzi Tests his Wife
Zhujiang lei / Tragedy on the Pearl River
Ziyu fengbao / Purple Storm
Zongheng sihai / Once a Thief
Zui Quan II / Drunken Master II (II)
Zuihou guantou / At this Crucial Moment
Zuoci xi Cao / Zuo Ci Teases Cao Cao
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Abel, Richard (1984) French Cinema: the First Wave, 1915–1929, New Jersey:
Princeton University Press.
A Comparative Study of Post-War Mandarin and Cantonese Cinema: the Films of
Zhu Shilin, Qin Jian and Other Directors (1983) Hong Kong: Urban Council.
Anderson, Benedict (1983) Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and
Spread of Nationalism, London: Verso.
A Study of Hong Kong Cinema in the Seventies 1970–1979 (Qishi niandai Xiang-
gang dianying yanjiu 1970–1979) (1984) Hong Kong: Urban Council.
A Study of the Hong Kong Martial Arts Film (Xianggang gongfu dianying yanjiu)
(1980) Hong Kong: Urban Council.
A Study of the Hong Kong Swordplay Film 1945–1980 (Xianggang wuxia dianying
yanjiu) (1981) Hong Kong: Urban Council.
Bailey, David, and Hall, Stuart (1992) ‘The Vertigo of Displacement: David Bailey
and Stuart Hall Explore the Shifts in Black Photographic Practices in 1980s’,
Ten-8, vol.2, no.3, pp.15–23.
Balibar, Etienne (1991) ‘The Nation Form: History and Ideology’. In Etienne
Balibar and Immanuel Wallerstein (eds) Race, Nation, Class: Ambiguous Identi-
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Barnes, Trevor, and Duncan, James S. (eds) (1992) Writing Worlds: Discourse,
Text and Metaphor in the Representation of Landscape, London: Routledge.
Basri, Fuziah Kartini Hassan, and Alauddin, Raja Ahmad (1995) ‘The Search for a
Malaysian Cinema: Between U-Wei, Shuhaimi, Yusof and LPFM’, Asian
Cinema, vol.7, no.2 Winter, pp.58–73.
‘Benqi jiaodian: fandui juben jiancha zhidu’ (Against Censorship on Film Scripts)
(1984) Film Biweekly, no.129, 26 January, pp.3–7.
Berry, Chris (1992a) ‘Race: Chinese Film and the Politics of Nationalism’, Cinema
Journal, 31, no.2, Winter, pp.45–58.
—— (1992b) Perspectives on Chinese Cinema, London: British Film Institute.
Bhabha, Homi K. (1994) The Location of Culture, London: Routledge.
Bian, Shanji (1990) ‘Taiwan dianying de xieshi fengge yu shenmei tezheng’ (The
Realistic Style of Taiwan Cinema and Its Aesthetics), Beijing dianying xuebao,
vol.13, issue 2, pp.131–6.
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Cai, Guorong (1981) Liushi niandai Guopian mingdao mingzuo xuan (A Study of
60s Well-known Directors and Classical Chinese Films), Taibei: Zhonghua
minguo dianying shiye fazhan jijing hui.
—— (1985) Zhongguo jindai wenyi dianying yanjiu (A Study on Contemporary
Chinese Melodrama), Taibei: Zhonghua minguo dianying tushu guan.
Cai, Hongsheng (1989) ‘Cheng Long: Xianggang yingtan de baima wangzi’ (Jackie
Chan: Prince of the Hong Kong Film World), Dangdai dianying, no.4 April,
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—— (1990) ‘Taiwan de xiangtu dianying’ (On the Regional Taiwan Film), The
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pp.160–8.
—— (1992) Tai-Gang dianying yu yingxing (Taiwan and Hong Kong Films and
Film Stars), Beijing: Zhongguo wenliang chuban gongshi.
Cantonese Cinema Retrospective 1950–1959 (Wushi niandai Yueyu dianying huigu
zhan) (1978) Hong Kong: Urban Council.
Cantonese Cinema Retrospective 1960–1969 (Liushi niandai Yueyu dianying huigu
zhan) (1982) Hong Kong: Urban Council.
Cantonese Melodrama 1950–1969 (Yueyu wenyi pian huigu 1950–1969) (1986)
Hong Kong: Urban Council.
Cantonese Opera Film Retrospective (Yueyu xiqu pian huigu) (1987) Hong Kong:
Urban Council.
Chakravarty, Sumita S. (1993) National Identity in Indian Popular Cinema
1947–1987, Austin: University of Texas Press.
Chan, C.K. Stephen (ed.) (1997) Shengfen rentong yu gonggong wenhua (Identity
and Public Culture), Hong Kong: Oxford University Press.
—— (ed.) (1997) Wenhua xiangxiang yu yishixingtai (Cultural Imaginary and Ideo-
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—— (1996) ‘Introduction’. In Wong Tak-wai (ed.) To Liv(e) Screenplay, Hong
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Arts Film (Xianggang gongfu dianying yanjiu), Hong Kong: Urban Council,
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Chen Guofu’s Essays on Films), Taibei: Zhonghua minguo dianying tushu guan.
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Issue of Banning Cantonese Films in Every Aspect), Yi Lin, no.3, 1 April.
—— (1937b) ‘Yueyu pian shifou gai jin’ (Should Cantonese films be banned?), Yi
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Chen, Kaige (1992) ‘Wo zenyang pai Huang tudi’ (How I Made Yellow Earth). In
Luo Yijun, Li Jinshen, Xu Hong (eds) Zhongguo dianying lilun wen xuan
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Chen, Lifu (1992) ‘Zhongguo dianying shiye de xin luxian’ (New Film Policy for
Chinese Cinema). In Lou Yijun, Li Jinshen, Xu Hong (eds) Zhongguo dianying
lilun wenxuan (Chinese Film Theories: An Anthology), Beijing: Wenhua yishu
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in Hong Kong Film Exhibition), Film Biweekly, no.166, 11 July, pp.11–12.
—— (1988) ‘Jiahe doude UIP hou zousi’ (Trend after Golden Harvest Purchased
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—— (1992) ‘ “Biao ge” Xu Guanwen’ (‘Cousin’ Michael Hui), Kaifang zazhi,
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Chen, Qixiang (1995) ‘Xianggang bentu wenhua de jianli he dianshi de jiaose’
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Enters the International Market), Film Biweekly, no.160, 18 April.
Cheng, Jihua (1966) Zhongguo dianying fazhan shi (History of Chinese Cinema),
Beijing: Zhongguo dianying chuban she.
Cheng, Joseph Y.S. (ed.) (1984) Hong Kong in Search of a Future, Oxford: Oxford
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Cheuk, Pak-tong (1995) ‘ “Da Zhonghua” dianying de tansuo’ (A Study of the Da
Zhonghua (Great China) Film Company). In Early Images of Hong Kong and
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—— (1996) ‘Liushi niandai qingchun pai dianying de tese’ (The Characteristics of
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Choa, G.H. (1977) ‘Medical and Health Services’. In 1951–1976 A Quarter Century
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Choi, Po-king (1990) ‘Popular Culture’. In The Other Hong Kong Report 1990. In
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the 1990s’, Diaspora, issue 2, no.2, pp.151–70.
—— (1993a) ‘A Souvenir of Love’, Modern Chinese Literature. 7.2 Fall, pp.59–78.
—— (1993b) Writing Diaspora: Tactics of Intervention in Contemporary Cultural
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—— (1995) Primitive Passions: Visuality, Sexuality, Ethnography and Contempor-
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Crofts, Stephen (1993) ‘Reconceptualising National Cinema/s’, Quarterly Review
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‘Daju bu bian, zoulie fanrong: zuotan 85 nian gangchan pian’ (Talks on Hong
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Dan Hanzhang (1978) Zuojia dianying mianmian guan (Auteur Cinema), Taibei:
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Daniels, Stephen, and Cosgrove, Denis (1993) ‘Spectacle and Text: Landscape
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Deng, Tu (1994) ‘Shenggang yihao tongjie fan zicheng yige de chengshi zhanzhen’
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—— (1982) ‘The Natural Image’. In Cantonese Cinema Retrospective 1960–1969
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Yinse shijie (Cinema Art), Hong Kong 1970–91.

Personal interviews
Allen Fong, film director, at Hong Kong Arts Centre, 9 March 1994.
Ann Hui, film director, at Hong Kong University, 10 March 1994.
Angle Tong, Director of Hong Kong Film Archive, at Film Archive, 23 August
2001.
Camy K.H. Mak, Chief Entertainment Standards Control Officer (Film), Televi-
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Chan Pak-shen, Chief Editor, Film Biweekly / City Entertainment, 23 August 2001
Hong Kong.
Clara Law, film director, at Tsim Sha Tsui, 7 March 1994.
Cynthia Liu, Senior Manager of Hong Kong Film Archive, at Film Archive, 25
February 1994.
Edward K. S. Tang, producer, Golden Way Films Ltd. at Golden Harvest, 18
March 1994.
Fruit Chan, film director, Mandarin Hotel Central, 22 August 2001.
Gordon Chan, film director, Mandarin Hotel Central, 20 March 1994.
Joe Chueng, the President of the Hong Kong Film Directors Association, 22
August 2001.
Joey Kong (Kong Cho Yee), Chairman of Hong Kong Theatres Association,
Causeway Bay Centre, 17 February 1994, Hong Kong.
John Chueng, Managing Director of Media Asia, at Media Asia 23 August 2001.
Law Kar, film critic and programme coordinator of Hong Kong international film
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—— Head of the Research Section, Hong Kong Film Archive, 23 August 2001.
 Bibliography 179
Lawrence Ah Mon, film director, Hong Kong Cultural Centre, 15 March 1994.
Li Cheuk-to, film critic and programme coordinator of Hong Kong International
Film Festival, Hong Kong Arts Centre, 29 November 1993.
—— President of Hong Kong Film Critics Society, 22 August 2001.
Michael Hui, film actor, director and producer, at Jackie Chan’s studio Kowloon
Tang, 22 March 1994.
Ng Ho, Associate Professor in Cinema and Television, School of Communication,
Hong Kong Baptist University, 4 March 1994.
Ng See-yuan, film producer and director, at Seasonal Film Corporation, 18 March
1994.
Peter Tsi, Chief Executive, Hong Kong Kowloon & New Territories Motion
Picture Industry Association, at MPIA office, on 11 March 1994.
Tony Shu, Executive Secretary in Movie Producers and Distributors Association
of Hong Kong and Kowloon Ltd. at MPDA office, 18 March 1994.
Raymond P.M. Wong, actor, script-writer in Cinema City, producer and director of
Mandarin Films Distribution and Mandarin Films Ltd. at Central, 12 March
1994.
Winnie Tsang, Manager in Panasia Films Limited, Golden Harvest, at Golden
Harvest Studio, 20 March 1994.
Wu Kam-yin, Assistant secretary for Recreation and Culture, Recreation and
Culture Branch, Hong Kong Government Secretariat, at Wanchai, March 7
1994.
Yu Mo-wan, film historian, at Tuen Mum, 25 November 1993, 1 March 1994.
Index
A Better Tomorrow / Yingxiong bense
68, 74
Abel, Richard xiii, 63
Aces Goes Palaces / Zuijia paidang 130
Ah Mon, Lawrence 68
Anderson, Benedict x
Anti-Corruption / Lianzheng fengbao
65, 68, 97
anti-Japanese war films 16, 67; see also
defence films, minzu revolutionary
films
Applause Pictures 124, 125
At This Crucial Moment / Zuihou
guantou 16
Balibar, Etienne x, 92
bentu cinema xvii–xviii
Big Boss, The / Tangshan daxiong 38
Blood Splashes on Baoshan / Xuejian
Baoshan cheng 9
Blood Stains the Valley of Love / Xue
ran xiangsi gu 36
Boat People, The / Touben nuhai 65
Burton, Julianne xii
Cai, Chusheng 9, 12, 20–1
Cantonese cinema 13; see also yueyu
pian; film 7–8, 12–14, 17–18, 21, 30–1,
36–7; melodrama 18; youth films 18,
37; shehui lunli 15
Cathay 29, 30, 31, 32, 34, 38, 52, 53
Chakravarty, Sumita xii
Chan, Evans 92, 110–14, 118, 137
Chan, Fruit 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132
Chan, Gordon 126
Chan, Jackie xviii, 71, 74, 75, 77, 81–4,
105, 128, 130, 137
Chan, Peter 66, 76, 115, 124
Chang, Alfred 54, 66
Changcheng 11–12, 38
Chen, Qingwei 56, 74
Chen, Qixiang 45, 46, 47
Cheng, Jihua 6, 7, 9, 11, 15, 30
Cheung, Alex 65, 68
Cheung, Maggie 75, 106
Chicken and Duck Talk, The / Jitong
yajiang 74
China Behind / Zaijian zhongguo 97
China Star 124, 125, 127
Ching, Siu-tung 115
Chow, Raymond 51
Chow, Yun-fat 74, 75, 105, 124
Chu, Yuan 64, 67
Cinema City 53, 54
City of Glass, The / Boli zicheng 129
Comrade, It is almost a love story /
Tianmimi 76, 115–18
Contract, The / Maishen qi 74
Cops and Robbers / Dianzhi bingbing
65, 68
Cultural Revolution, The 27, 39, 44, 97,
100, 131, 135
D&B 53, 54
Da Zhonghua 10
Davis, Darrell William xi, xv, 61
defence films 15, 16; see also anti-
Japanese films
diaspora 24–6
diasporic Chinese Cinema 22, 28–41,
52, 56–7; see also haiwai Huaren
cinema
diasporic triangular relationship 23,
24–8, 36
Diawara, Manthia xiii, 63
Diegues, Carlos xiii, 63
Drunken Master II / Zuiquan II 75
Du, Yunzhi 6, 7, 9, 11
182 Index
Durian, Durian / Liunian piaopiao 128
Everlasting Love / Tian Chang dijiu 18
Expect the Unexpected / Feichang turan
131
Family / Jia 18
Farewell China / Aizai biexian jije 76
Father and Son / Fuzi qing 18, 77, 84–6,
112, 137; see also Fong, Allen
film criticism xv, 19–21, 38–9, 58–62,
132–3
film industry xi–xiii, 5–14, 28–32, 51–8,
122–7; Cantonese 8, 12–14, 31;
Mandarin 10–12, 29–32; quasi-
national 51–8
film market xiii, 8, 10–13; diasporic
28–32, 51–4; quasi-national 54–8,
122–7
First Strike / Jiandan renwu 75
Fist of Fury / Jingwu men 38, 74
Fong, Allen xviii, 18, 65, 77, 84–6, 112,
137; see also Father and Son
Foster, Robert 92, 94
Full Alert / Gaodu jiebei 130
Full Moon in New York / Renzai Ni¸yue
105–10, 114, 137; see also Kwan,
Stanley
He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Father / Xin
nanxiong nandi 66
Hedetoff, Ulf 92, 95
Higson, Andrew xi, xiii, 63, 77
Ho, Tung 6
huangmei xi (Mandarin Opera films)
36, 67
Hui, Ann xviii, 65, 70, 75, 77, 87–90,
113, 127, 129, 137
Hui, Michael 66–7, 74, 130
Hung, Sammo 70–1, 74–5
imagined community 50
In the Face of Demolition / Weilou
chunxiao 18
In the mood for love / Huayang nianhua
130
Jumping Ash / Tiaohui 68
Jarvie, Ian 17–18, 52
Jiang, Boying 10
Killer, The / Diexue shuangxiong 68, 74
Kung and Zhang 45–6, 64
Kung Fu Comedy 68, 70–1, 81
Kwan, Stanley xviii, 66, 92, 105–10, 114,
118, 137; see also Full Moon in New
York

Games Gamblers Play / Guima Lane, Kevin 27, 102

shuangxing 74 Last Message, The / Tiancai yu baichi 74
Golden Harvest 38, 51–2, 54–6, 67, 72, Lau, Shing-hon 18, 59, 62, 136
123–4; Golden Harvest Pictures Lau, Siu-kai 27, 44
(China) 125, 127–8 Law Enforcer, The / Huangjia fan 68
Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, The / Law with Two Phase / Gongpu 68
Wangzhong ren 47 Law, Clara 76
Gu, Long 67 Law, Kar 10–11, 31, 34, 38, 46–7, 59–61,
Guan, Wenqing (Kwan Man-Ching) 15 65, 69, 73
Guangyi 30, 38, 53 Lee, Bruce 38, 74
Gudao tiantang / Orphan Island Leong, Po-Chih 65, 68
Paradise 9 Leung, Noong-kong 59, 68, 96–7
Guibernau, Montserrat x, 94 Li, Beihai 15
Guohun / Soul of China 11 Li, Cailiang 13
Guolian 32, 38 Li, Check-to 51, 59, 60, 67, 73, 99, 102,
guoyu pian 38; see also Mandarin films 128
guzhuang pian (traditional costume Li, Cheng-feng 18
films) 7, 15 Li, Danny 68
Li, Hanxiang 32, 67, 74
haiwai Huaren cinema x, xv, xvii; see Li, Minwei 5–7, 15
also diasporic Chinese cinema Li, Tie 18, 19
haiwai Huaren ix; see also diaspora, Li, Zuyong 10–11
diasporic triangular relationship Lianbang 32
Hall, Stuart 92, 95, 114 Lianhua 6–7, 15
Hayward, Susan xiv, 63, 65, 68, 72, 73 Lifeline / Shengming xian 15

Lim, Ringo 68, 124, 127, 130
Lin, Dai 34
Lin, Nien-tung xvi, 14, 21, 38, 60, 62,
136
Little Cheung / Xilu Xiang 127, 131
Little Guangdong / Xiao Guangdong 16
Little Tiger / Xiao Laohu 16
Loke, Wan Tao 32
Long Arm of the Law / Shenggang
qibing 92, 98–105, 114, 127, 137
Longest Summer, The / Qunian yanhua
tebie duo 127, 129, 132
lunli 8, 35, 85
Luo, Feng 70
Luo, Mingyou 5–7
Ma, Eric 45, 46, 47, 59
Made in Hong Kong / Xianggang
zhizhao 130, 132
Mak, Johny 54, 65, 68, 72, 92, 98–105,
114, 118, 127, 137
Mandarin films 10–11, 17, 31–7, 60–1,
73; see also huangmei xi; Martial arts
36, 67
March of the Guerrillas / Youji jinxing
qu 9
Media Asia 124–7
Milkway 127
Million Dollar Snatch / Qibai wanyuan
da jie an 64
minzu cinema xv
minzu revolutionary films 8, 9; see also
anti-Japanese films, defence films
minzu xv, xvi, 35, 83
Misarranged Love Trap, The / Baicuo
mihan zhen 96–7
Mission, The / Qianghuo 130
Mo, Kangshi 96, 97
nation x
national cinema ix, xi, 1
Ng, Ho 24, 39, 53, 59, 60, 70
Ng, See-yuen 64, 65, 68, 97, 122
O’Regan, Tom xi, 96
Once a Thief / Zhongcheng sihai 105
Once Upon a Time in China / Huang
Feihong 70
One Country, two systems 119–25, 132,
138
Ordinary Heroes / Qianyan wanyu 129
Para Para Sakura / Yinghua, Yinghua
124, 128
Index 183
Pendakur, Manjunath xii, xiii
Petrie, Duncan xii, xiii, 63
Prison on Fire / Jianyu fengyun 68, 74
Project A / A jihua 73, 77, 81–4, 137
Pu, Wanchang 31
Qin, Jian 36
Qinggong mishi / Sorrows of the
Forbidden City 11
quasi-national cinema xviii–xix, 41, 120
quasi-national identity 63, 76, 91–118,
138
qusi-nation x, 43–51, 63, 77, 91, 98, 110,
114, 120–1
Roar of the People / Minzu de housheng
16
Rock N’Roll Cop / Shenggang yihao
tongjie fan 115
Romance of Book and Sword I and II /
Shujian enchou lu 70
Rouge / Yanzhi 6, 15
Rouge / Yanzhi kou 66
Rumble in the Bronx / Hongfan qu 71
Running Out Time / Anzhan 130
Safran, William xvii, 25–6
Scott, Ian 3, 44–5
Secret, The / Fengjie 65
Sek, Kei 59–61, 69–70, 81, 98–9, 113,
129
Shao, Cunren 30
Shao, Zuiweng 29
Shaolin Soccer / Shaolin zuqiu 124
Shaw Brothers 7, 29; see also Shaw,
Run Run, 30, 32, 38–40, 51–6, 59
Shaw, Run Run 7, 30; see also Shaw
Brothers
Shaw, Runme 30
shehui lunli pian 15
Shu, Kei 26, 34, 59, 65
Shu Shuen (Tang, Shuxuan) 97
Situ, Huimin 12
Smith, Anthony 78, 91–6
Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow / Shexing
diaoshou 71
Song of the Exile / Ketu qiuhen 75, 77,
87–90, 113, 137
Song of the Exile / Liuwang zhige 16
Spring / Chun 18
Star East 124
Story of Woo Viet, The / Huyue de gushi
65
Story of Wuxun / Wuxun zhuan 11
184 Index
2000 AD / 2000 gongyuan 124 White Cloud Village / Baiyun guxiang 9
Taishan 31 White Golden Dragon / Baijin long 7
Teo, Stephen 17, 35, 61 Who Am I? / Woshi shui? 128
Tianyi 7, 15 Wong, Kirk 115, 124
To be Number One / Bohao 68 Wong, Manfred 59, 127
To Liv(e) / Fushi lianqu 92, 110–14, 137 Wong, Raymond 125
To, Johnny 130 Woo, John 68, 105, 124
Tokyo Riders / Dongjing gonglüe 124 Wu, Hui 18, 96
Tong, Stanley 124 wulitou 71
Too Many Ways to Be No. 1 / Yige zitou wuxia pian (Martial Arts films) 7, 15, 36
de danshen 130
Tragedy on the Pearl River / Zhujiang lei Yeoh, Michelle 71, 124
18 Yonghua 10–11, 29
triangular relationship xviii, 1, 2–5, 22, Young Master, The / Shidi chuma 71
24–8, 42, 48, 72–3, 77, 81–2, 84, 91–2, Yu, Mo-wan 5, 13–16, 19, 35, 54, 56,
98, 118–19, 129, 132, 134–5, 137–8 59–60
Tsui, Hark xviii, 54, 70, 72, 124 Yu, Ronny 124
Turner, Mathew 45, 94 Yuen, Kuei 115
Tycoon Traitor, The / Guonan caizhu 16 yueyu pian 38, 59, 61; see also
Typhoon Signal No.10 / Shihao fengbo Cantonese cinema
19
Zhang, Che 67
Xia, Yan 12–13 Zhang, Shankun 11–12, 31
Xinlian 30 Zhonghua minzu cinema xv–xvii
Xinhua 31 Zhonglian 14, 30
Zhou, Huashan 45, 46–7
Wai, Ka-fai 130 Zhuangzi tests his Wife / Zhuangzi shiqi
Wall, The / Qian 18 6, 15
Wang, Jing 127 Zuo Ci Teases Cao Cao / Zuoci xi Cao
Wang, Kai-wai 130 15
Warlord, The / Da junfa 74
Way of the Dragon, The / Menglong
guojiang 38, 74