NEWS STORY
HONG
KONG: FILM
Hollywood Jumps in
Directors Tsui Hark and Ang Lee are back making movies in Asia. Only
this time there's a difference -- U.S. studios are footing the bill.
THERE'S A NEW ENERGY on Hong
Kong's streets. Film crews are laying metal tracks for tricky shots.
Cameras are being suspended from towering office buildings. The sound of
gunfire and screams is once again spilling out of editing suites across
the city.
It's not supposed to be like this. For years, analysts
have been declaring the death of Hong Kong's once-vibrant movie business.
Rampant video piracy has slashed box-office receipts and film-makers'
margins, leaving the industry to respond with a trickle of cheap, badly
made flicks. Audiences have turned away in droves, while the cream of
local film talent has been lured away by Hollywood.
Now, though, the talent is back, making Hong Kong movies
in Hong Kong. But this time there's one crucial difference: They're using
American money, as Hollywood studios mix Asian creativity with U.S.
marketing muscle in a bid to break into Asia.
Tsui Hark, famous for his stylized action in films such
as Once Upon a Time in China and Black Mask, is one of those targeted by
Hollywood. Another is Taiwan's Ang Lee, who is making his first
martial-arts movie in Asia.
Tsui, whose latest film Time and Tide will cost
HK$25million ($3 million), funded by Columbia Pictures Film Production
Asia, admits he was initially wary when Barbara Robinson, managing
director of the Columbia division, first approached him to make a Hong
Kong film. "I thought it was strange," he says. Tsui, who has
inside experience of how Hollywood works, wasn't sure Columbia would
accept Hong Kong's freestyle approach to production. Local directors often
shoot, edit and release a picture in the time it takes a U.S. producer to
sign a development deal. Here, decisions are made on set without
consultation with the producers. It's the antithesis of the American style
of controlled film-making.
But importing the Hollywood system wholesale was not
Robinson's intention.
"What makes Hong Kong cinema successful is its
energy and spirit, and I was mindful to harness that," she says. Tsui
agreed to jump on board when it was clear the U.S. studio would give him
room to do his own thing. Time and Tide, which stars hot local newcomer
Nicholas Tse, centres on an unusual relationship that develops between a
bodyguard for a triad boss and a disillusioned mercenary who's trying to
put his shady past behind him.
Tsui has made some compromises to conform to U.S.
practices, but he says it won't be apparent on the big screen. Time and
Tide retains many of the signature elements of his earlier films--staccato
gun battles and "fatal attack" sequences that artfully stretch
real time.
One concession, though, was to respect rules on
copyright--a legal nicety often overlooked in Asia. "That's because
no one here sues," Tsui shrugs. The art department was instructed to
substitute fictional "Zebra" and "Cinnamon" cigarettes
for Camel and Winston packages. The cinematographers were also asked to
practise a little restraint when shooting street scenes. McDonald's and
other famous brand names were not to pop into the frame unless proper
clearances were obtained. Before cameras rolled, Robinson insisted that
all original music was bought outright and not simply licensed, so
Columbia could profit from ancillary sales of the soundtrack.
It's a trend that observers say is likely to spread
across the industry. "Hong Kong film-makers will absolutely be forced
into world-best practices," says Rob Fisher of Australian Completion
Bond Co., which has been monitoring co-venture-capital deals in Asia for
seven years. "That means proper scripts, budgets and
documentation."
In return, though, the film-makers will get the benefits
of Hollywood's heavy marketing artillery. "We are very intentionally
doing publicity much earlier," says Robinson. She is releasing film
trailers and teasers months before the summer's premiere of Time and Tide.
Tsui believes American marketing clout is a key to getting people back
into cinemas. "Finding a new way of doing things is everyone's task
in order to bring back the viewing habit of the Hong Kong audience,"
says Tsui.
Time and Tide is one of only four films Columbia
Pictures Film Production Asia has invested in. Over the past two years,
the company has bought world rights to Zhang Yimou's two latest films, The
Road Home and Not One Less, and has co-financed director Ang Lee's film
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
Robinson is well aware that all of Los Angeles is
watching her studio's moves into Asia. Miramax, 20th Century Fox and
Warner Bros., who have all opened offices in Hong Kong, are rumoured to be
scouting projects. "Everyone has always been interested in expanding
their software library in Asia," says Bill Kong of Hong Kong-based
Edko Films, one of the producers of Crouching Tiger, and a 20-year veteran
in the region.
"It's natural the conglomerates would come in
sooner or later; Columbia was just the first to do it," Kong says.
The only difference is that companies such as Warner have diverse
interests in television, books and records, and are more cautious and
secretive about their deals in the region.
For foreign investors, Hong Kong offers a gateway into
the tough Greater China market. Ticket sales on the mainland and elsewhere
in Asia are essential if films are to make money. Edko's Kong estimates
that box-office returns from Hong Kong will cover only about 20% of the
cost of a movie like Crouching Tiger.
Tie-ups and co-productions with Hong Kong companies can
also help U.S. investors get around China's limit on imports of foreign
films, only 20 of which are allowed in each year. Although Beijing
classifies films from Hong Kong as foreign, companies such as Edko have
managed to circumvent Beijing's tough restrictions by partnering with the
China Film Co-production Agency Corp. and the private Beijing firm Asian
Union Film & Entertainment. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is now
ensured access to China's market.
But the flow hasn't all been in one direction. A handful
of Hong Kong companies have been seeking out foreign investors in recent
years and following Hollywood's film-making example.
After the industry downturn in 1997, Thomas Chung,
managing director of Hong Kong's Media Asia Group, sought sales for his
features in the U.S. and Europe to offset his production costs. It was
obvious to him that Asian producers needed outside money, but few had
attempted to court studios and distributors.
So he took a more American approach to production for
his film Gen-X Cops including some more hi-tech special effects and a more
sophisticated promotion. The gamble paid off. With a glossy campaign and
good production values, Gen-X Cops raked in international sales of
$3million. Now Chung says he has five American "suitors" looking
to invest up front in his latest picture, The Touch, which will be
produced by and star Michelle Yeoh.
Hong Kong film-makers aren't the only ones winning
Hollywood's attention. Following a successful string of pictures including
Sense and Sensibility, The Ice Storm and Ride with the Devil, Taiwan's Ang
Lee is returning to Asia to direct a film again in Mandarin. Lee is from
the East, but he has never made a martial arts film until now. After
finding sweet success in Hollywood, the little boy in Lee craved a
professional adventure back home. And what do little boys in Asia dream
of? Making a kung-fu film, of course.
"All boys want to make them," quips Lee.
"I grew up on them." Luckily for Lee, Hollywood is partial to
martial arts films, and viewed it as a safe project for the Asian market.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is set in the Qing dynasty, and stars Chow
Yun-fat--with Michelle Yeoh as a fighter who trains another woman, only to
face off against her.
"Martial arts is the most popular genre in
Asia," says Lee. "It's like a musical--larger than life, with
endless potential. It's like an adult fairy tale."
Columbia Pictures is breaking into the industry using
two seasoned directors with U.S. experience. The films haven't yet been
released, but their buzz is deafening. Investors are lining up to sign
other directors. "It's boom time again," says Tsui, noting that
international interest is opening up many opportunities.
Still, after experiencing the cinematic Gold Rush of the
mid-90s, Tsui hopes film-makers will be a little more cautious this time
around and not overextend themselves by sacrificing quality. "I hope
it's not another bubble that will burst."
By
Karen Mazurkewich Far
East Economic Review
Issue cover-dated April 20, 2000
