It Came From the Sinosphere

It Came From the Sinosphere: State of Divinity (Part 3)

September 24, 2013 by Sara K. 3 Comments

Yue Buqun

Yue Buqun in soliloquy mode.

When I first read the novel, Yue Buqun did not leave such a strong impression on me, and I did not understand why so many people consider him to be the character that the entire story turns on. As I’ve read/seen more adaptations, I have gotten a better understanding of his importance, but it is this adaptation which really drove home to me what a great character he is.

What really distinguishes State of Divinity’s Yue Buqun is that, unlike any other version of the story I’ve seen/read, we get to see his inner thoughts.

In the original novel, everything we know about Yue Buqun comes from Linghu Chong or Lin Pingzhi, and since Yue Buqun never reveals his private thoughts to these two characters, we can only understand him based on his actions. By contrast, State of Divinity offers Yue Buqun ample opportunities for soliloquy.

What really struck me is that Yue Buqun’s thoughts as depicted by State of Divinity are very different from what I expected – yet entirely consistent with canon. This, of course, is a reflection of just an enigma Yue Buqun is – though we know what he does, the reader never knows what he says to himself.

Yue Buqun … vulnerable?

And State of Divinity shows Yue Buqun being vulnerable. This is something I have never seen in any other version of the story. One of the principles of Yue Buqun’s personality is that he *never* shows vulnerability (at least not in Linghu Chong or Lin Pingzhi’s presence). To be honest, vulnerable!Yue Buqun shocked me.

I now think that Yue Buqun is one of Jin Yong’s finest characters.

Lin Pingzhi

I ended up really liking Lin Pingzhi in State of Divinity.

I’m not just saying that I thought he was well-written and well performed (though I do think that). I actually ended up liking the character himself.

Lin Pingzhi with his mother.

While most versions of the story note that Yue Buqun and Lin Pingzhi have similar personalities, State of Divinity really emphasizes that Lin Pingzhi = young!Yue Buqun. Thus they reinforce each other’s position in the story.

Laughing on the Wind introduces Lin Pingzhi as being privileged, coddled, and spoiled, which of course sets him up for being disliked by the audience. It’s almost satisfying to watch him suffer.

State of Divinity, by contrast, makes it really easy to love Lin Pingzhi. This was hard for me, because I knew what happens to Lin Pingzhi at the end. I wanted to hope that State of Divinity would show some mercy to Lin Pingzhi … but I already knew that hope was in vain.

Lin Pingzhi is experiencing a Horrible Revelation.

In this adaptation, it is Lin Pingzhi who breaks my heart the most.

About the Music

Well, a lot of the music used in the show is not original (for example, it borrows the soundtrack from Ashes of Time, among other sources). I still found it a bit jarring to hear music pulled from other contexts. Then again, borrowing really good music was probably wiser than composing original-yet-mediocre music – and what original music the show has is mostly uninteresting.

There is one original song which actually stands out is the tune of “The Laughing Proud Wanderer” itself. According to the story, it’s the more beautiful song the characters have ever heard, but I don’t think the audience actually expects that of the makers of the TV show.

The song works because it fits the atmosphere story. Bach it is not, but it does a pretty good job of condensing 43 episodes of story into a single tune. That is much more important than being a great music in its own right.

A Shift in the Ending

This scene wasn’t in the original novel, so where have I seen this before … oh that’s right, it’s just like that scene in Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ

Every adaptation (except Lee Chi-Ching’s manhua) alter the ending.

To be fair, the ending of State of Divinity is actually mostly the same as the ending of the novel. But there is one crucial change.

In the original novel, Linghu Chong is helpless at the end. There is practically nothing he can do to change the course of events. His must experience whatever fate sends his way.

Linghu Chong experiences utter despair.

And that is what State of Divinity tweaks. At the end, Linghu Chong does change the course of events.

That doesn’t make it a bad ending. But I find it interesting that most adaptations feel that have to change that part.

Comments on the Acting

Overall, I think both shows have very good acting. Even when they did not cast the most suitable actor, at least it is somebody competent enough to make the part work anyway.

That said, these are the highlights for me (from both shows)

Xu Qing as Ren Yingying and Wei Zi as Yue Buqun

Xu Qing as Ren Yingying (LitW) – I think it’s a bit unfair to compare Xu Qing and Fiona Leung’s performances as Ren Yingying, since the script of LitW gives Xu Qing a lot more to work with. Nonetheless, I think Xu Qing does a better job of exposing Ren Yingying in her most vulnerable moments.

Wei Zi as Yue Buqun (LitW) – It is really hard to decide whether Wei Zi (LitW) or Wong Wai (SoD) is a better Yue Buqun, but my gut says that Wei Zi’s acting is a little better (though as far as the script, Yue Buqun is definitely better written in SoD).

He Meitian as Yilin and Jackie Lui as LInghu Chong

Jackie Lui as Linghu Chong (SoD) – This is an example of great casting. To quote a review (which I can’t find right now) ‘Jackie Lui is Linghu Chong’. Li Yapeng’s performance in LitW is also good, but he fails to embody the character as fully as Jackie Lui.

He Meitian as Yilin (SoD) – If casting Jackie Lui as Linghu Chong is great, then casting He Meitian as Yilin is perfect. In a show which sets a very high bar for acting, it is Jackie Lui and He Meitian who really stand out. He Meitian also plays Qi Fang in another of my favorite wuxia dramas, A Deadly Secret, where she is once again a highlight.

Small Evil is Scarier than Great Evil

One of the messages of this story (and most of Jin Yong’s work) is that good cannot defeat evil.

Good can avoid evil. Evil can self-destruct. Good can even, rarely, persuade evil to change. But good cannot defeat evil.

Ren Woxing holds a puppy in his arms as Ren Yingying rushes up to him.

Evil can also rescue puppies.

Some adaptations (including Laughing in the Wind) try to turn one of the villains into the Big Bad, which the heroes can then take down and triumph over. That’s not how the original novel works. In the original novel, all of the villains are narrow-minded men (none of the villains are cis-female). Though they can fall individually, they can never be eliminated as a group. If you take down one petty tyrant, another will emerge.

This is scary.

Ren Yingying and Linghu Chong look really scared.

Yep, they’re scared.

If you think in terms of great evil, at least there is the hope that, after taking out the Big Bad, you will be free once and for all. But if evil is like a weed which will grow back from the soil of human nature as soon as you pull it out, then it will be with you forever.

The villains are horrible not because they are inhuman, but because they are human.

My Encounter with the TV Show

I had been in Taiwan for a short time, and I was just starting to feel out Chinese-language media. As a starting point, I would channel-surf. During my channel-surfing, the wuxia dramas caught my eye the most, since they were quite different from what I was familiar with.

However, even with my lack of listening comprehension skill, I could tell that wuxia TV dramas follow Sturgeon’s Law.

There was one wuxia drama which stood out. I could only understand 10-20% of the dialogue, so of course I couldn’t follow the story, but it still drew me in. Without understanding it, I still felt that what was happening mattered.

I remember one scene where a certain nun killed another character.

This nun has just killed somebody.

Now, I understood enough to know that the nun was horrified by the fact that she had just killed somebody. I also knew that Buddhist nuns are generally not supposed to killing living creatures. I did not know the broader context – for example, I did not know what the nun’s relationship to the victim was – but I *felt* it.

Scenes like this made an impression on me, even though I didn’t know what they mean.

Well, I had to find out what this TV show was – and I learned it was State of Divinity, adapted from a novel by Jin Yong.

Yep, this TV show was my gateway drug, both to Jin Yong specifically and the wuxia genre as a whole (I’ve even written about this before).

Now, even if I hadn’t caught reruns of this show, I would have almost certainly encountered Jin Yong and wuxia anyway. But if my first encounter had been, say The Book and the Sword, I might have concluded that it wasn’t for me, and left it at that.

And if I hadn’t gotten hooked on wuxia, this column would be really, really, really different.

Linghu Chong, Xiang Wentian, and Ren Woxing by a bonfire on the beach.

I remember watching this scene on Taiwanese TV.

It also made for a weird experience when I finally read the novel. As I read a scene, images from the TV show
would emerge in my head, and I would have lots deja-vu moments -‘This seems oddly familiar’, ‘So, this is what that was actually about’, ‘Oh shit, this is the scene where she dies!’

Availability in English

As far as I know, this show is currently not available in English.

It is listed on Dramafever as ‘coming soon’, but there are so many Hong Kong dramas which are listed as ‘coming soon’ that, unless Dramafever has a gigantic army of translators/subtitlers/etc. at its command, not all of those dramas can ‘come soon’. My guess is that ‘coming soon’ means ‘we have a license to stream this show, but we’ll only actually translate it if we think it will generate a lot of interest among our viewers’.

So if you would like to see this show with English/Spanish subtitles, tell Dramafever.

Conclusion

Okay, in some ways, Laughing in the Wind does kick State of Divinity‘s ass. Yet I think it should be obvious that I love State of Divinity much more.

I think most people agree with me. While both shows get onto many people’s ‘best wuxia TV show’ lists, everybody who has compared the two (including a Laughing in the Wind fansite!) says that State of Divinity is better.

I would take it a step further. There are many classic wuxia TV shows I have yet to see – as well as many classic Chinese-language TV shows in other genres. But of all of the Chinese-language dramas I have seen, State of Divinity is the best. That’s right, it is better than every other single TV show I have discussed here at Manga Bookshelf.

This show is so highly recommended that I think I have just wrecked the roof.

Sara K. made some comments about Shén Tōu Tiānxià by Zheng Feng (who also wrote Passionate Wastrel, Infatuated Hero and Spirit Sword) over at her personal blog.

It Came from the Sinosphere: State of Divinity (Part 2)

September 10, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Picking up from last week, here is even more State of Divinity.

Background

This is a TVB production.

TVB Hong Kong’s (and the Cantonese-speaking world’s) biggest commercial television station, and one of the most popular television production companies in all of Asia. Their hit shows get dubbed in Vietnamese Indonesian, Hindi, Mandarin, Thai, and other widely major languages.

In wuxia, ‘TVB’ is a legendary name. Many people around Asia (and in Asian communities abroad) first got hooked onto wuxia due thanks to a TVB production. TVB has also been a launching point for the careers of many of Hong Kong’s top actors. In particular, the 1980s is known as the ‘golden era’ of TVB wuxia dramas.

Chow Yun-Fat as Linghu Chong and Rebecca Chan as Ren Yingying from the 1984 TV adaptation.

Well, this drama, State of Divinity, was made in the 1990s, after the ‘golden era’. Yet on every single list I have ever seen ranking wuxia dramas from the 1990s, State of Divinity is always in first or second place. This is actually the second time that TVB has adapted this novel – the first adaptation was The Smiling Proud Wanderer 1984, starring Chow Yun-fat as Linghu Chong. Yet, in spite of the fact that The Smiling Proud Wanderer 1984 was made in the golden 80s, every single reviewer says that State of Divinity is much, much better.

This is also TVB’s last adaptation of this novel – in 2000, Jin Yong revoked TVB’s license to adapt his work.

The Visuals

State of Divinity is not ugly. At times, it’s pretty. But if you compare it to Laughing in the Wind, which is probably the most beautiful TV drama I have ever seen, it will lose really, really badly. Therefore I will be merciful, and not compare them.

Shenggu is wearing a veil as she walks out of a burning building.

I do like this dramatic shot.

Yilin and the Hengshan Sect

I think Yilin, the young Buddhist nun, might be one of the most under-appreciated characters in the story. Almost nobody takes her because she’s just a teenage girl, and as well all know, teenage girls – particularly teenage girls with strong feelings combined with doubt – are by default silly. But if you actually think about what she says and what she does … it actually does not seem so silly after all, at least not to me.

She says that if doing the right thing would mean going to hell, then she would willingly spend an eternity in hell. Think about that for a moment. If she things that doing the right thing *might* send her to hell, that means that she does not consider the Buddhist world order to be perfectly just. While her religion heavily influences her sense of ethics, she thinks it does not have the final word on what is right and what is wrong. And she is so committed to doing the right thing that she would be willing to go to hell for it.

Can you bribe someone who is willing to go to hell in order to do the right thing? Can you threaten them?

In this respect, Yilin and Linghu Chong are very much alike. For most of the story, Linghu Chong believes that he is going to die quite soon, so whenever somebody tries to bribe/threaten him, his standard response is ‘I am going to die soon, so why should I care?’

The nuns of the Hengshan Sect

And then there is the doubt. Her religious order tells her on thing, her father tells her another thing, and then there are the feelings inside her own heart that she doesn’t completely understand. It is therefore quite reasonable that she is not sure what to do, and she is humble enough to recognize this. However, in the deepest levels of her heart, I think she has no doubt that she wants to do the right thing, it is merely a question of what the ‘right’ thing actually is.

Of course, Yilin is part of the Hengshan Sect, which is the voice of morality in the story. And many of the issues specific to Yilin also apply to the whole sect. The Hengshan sect is an order of Buddhist nuns who have taken vows to live a simple life and do no harm. While many characters publicly praise the Hengshan Sect for their upright way of life, they privately hold contempt for that ‘bunch of nuns’. I think this partially because the nuns are women, but I think it’s also because, by putting morality and humility first, they silently critique anybody whose goal is to amass power and prestige.

It’s interesting to note that, while the Hengshan Sect has many rules, whenever those rules come into conflict with what’s right, they always bend the rule and do what’s right. This is something which almost no other group in the story will do – and indeed the Hengshan Sect gets heavily criticised for bending its rules. How dare they put ethics first! Silly women!

Laughing in the Wind removes much of Yilin’s and the Hengshan Sect’s role in the story, and I understand why – its interpretation of the story doesn’t need them so much. State of Divinity, on the other hand, really does justice to Yilin and the Hengshan Sect. They are a crucial part of State of Divinity’s humanistic vision.

The Thick, Deep Humanity of It All

One thing that is really striking about this drama is the depth of the human relationships.

For example, more than any other version of this story I’ve experienced (including the original novel), this TV show establishes really well the relationships within the Huashan Sect. While
they certainly aren’t a perfect ‘family’, overall, it feels like a tight, warm group.

Linghu Chong is injured. Again. Never fear, the Huashan Sect looks after its own.

Of course, this makes the eventual fate of the Huashan Sect all the more heartbreaking.

And then there is Zuo Lengshan. Unlike most of the ‘villains’, he doesn’t seem to have any redeeming qualities. Yet in this adaptation, he feels human. That’s not to say he is *not* a villain – his actions, after all, are pretty much the same as in every other version of the story. But it feels like there is a human being behind those actions, rather than a mere ‘bad guy’.

Zuo Lengshan is puzzled.

I think what made the difference to me was the very first episode, where Zuo Lengshan was pondering something which puzzled him. Something about that very simple act – trying to figure out a something he doesn’t understand – made Zuo Lengshan feel like a genuine person.

Indeed, it seems much of the artistic directive in this TV drama was to make everybody feel like a real person. For example, there is an entire new subplot which is added just to explain why Yue Lingshan acts a certain way (she does the same thing in most versions of the story, but it usually difficult to buy it).

Yue Lingshan

Clearly, the actors put a lot of work into making their characters feel genuine, and to make their connections feel authentic. In addition to the actors work, there’s also the work of the camera operators and editors – I didn’t realize just how much of this TV show consists of meaningful glances and reaction shots until I translated that scene for Part 1. It all works really, really well.

The Bad Gender Baggage

Alas, there is a huge exception to the story’s humanistic vision, and that’s the way it handles non-binary/cis gender. Or, if I may be blunt, it’s transmisogynist.

During the course of the story, four characters lose their testicles. One of them loses his testicles in an ‘ordinary’ way – while he loses his interest in sex, his voice doesn’t change, and he generally still seems fairly masculine. This is consistent with what happens in the real world to people who lose their testicles post-puberty.

The other three, however (I am making up a term in order to avoid spoilers) ‘go through the mork’. In addition to losing their genitalia, they become stereotypically feminine – they develop an interest in pretty clothes, make-up, embroidery, etc. Clearly this is due to ‘going through the mork’, not just the absence of their testicles.

The thing is, these three characters happen to be villains.

Now, in some versions of the story, you could argue that they were evil *before* they ‘went through the mork’, and that it’s just a coincidence that the characters transitioning from male to female are all evil. Well, in State of Divinity that argument doesn’t hold – it clearly depicts the characters becoming *more* evil after they ‘go through the mork’. Now you could say that it’s just a coincidence that the same thing which makes them evil also makes them feminine … but that’s not what the characters in the story think (to paraphrase Ren Yingying ‘Don’t trust him because he’s a neither male nor female freak’).

I actually like Henry Lo’s performance. It’s not his fault that the story is transmisogynist.

Believe me, I have tried to interpret this story in a way which is not transmisogynist … and basically the only two ways to pull that off is a) change the story (which is what Laughing in the Wind does to reduce the transmisogyny) or b) not be honest with myself.

Some people might excuse the transphobia/transmisogyny by saying that it was written in the 1960s. My response is that Liang Yusheng managed to write an wuxia novel in 1960s Hong Kong with a transwoman character *without* implying that MtF people are evil. If he could do it, why not Jin Yong?

I am really disappointed that such a great story is also transmisogynist.

If Laughing in the Wind is a Work of Art, then State of Divinity Is a Cat

As I’ve described before, Laughing in the Wind feels like it’s been curated by somebody with impeccable artistic taste. Part of the joy of watching that show is wondering what exquisite delight is coming next, for the TV show manages to get the viewer to trust its artistic sense pretty quickly.

State of Divinity is not like that. It does not dazzle the audience with its refined elegance. It feels like a typical wuxia TV show – just as the opening theme song announces. It submits itself so entirely to being a standard wuxia TV show that it has become a ‘cat’.

The actress Uta Hagen says in the book Respect for Acting that, if you put an adult human on stage with an animal, such as cat, or a very young child, then the audience will probably pay more attention to the animal/young child than the adult human. That’s because animals/young children are not very stage conscious, and will probably act more authentically than adults who have been trained to monitor themselves. Uta Hagen said that her goal, as a performer, is to always be more fascinating to watch than a cat.

State of Divinity is so true to what it is that it sucks the viewers in and holds onto them tightly. I actually cannot think of another TV show – in any language and any genre – which excels State of Divinity in this specific respect.

And I Still Have More to Say…

So come back next week!

It Came From the Sinosphere: State of Divinity (Part 1)

September 3, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

Linghu Chong wears a black cloth covering the lower half of his face as his sword is pointed at a merchant'st throat.

Linghu Chong is asking for a ‘donation’.

I noted that the opening theme for Laughing in the Wind is so low-key that it stands out from other wuxia TV shows without being pretentious at all. Compare that to the opening them of State of Divinity 1996, which is adapted from the very same novel as Laughing in the Wind:

This TV theme does not stand out at all. It is a very typical wuxia TV show opening theme. Whereas the Laughing in the Wind theme says ‘This is not your typical wuxia drama’, the State of Divinity Theme says ‘Another standard TVB wuxia drama coming right up!’

This difference in approach explains a lot of what makes these two adaptations feel different.

So, let’s look at a ‘typical’ scene from a ‘typical’ drama.

Example Scene: Why This Show Is So Addictive

This scene is not particularly special, but it is precisely because it is not special that it is good for demonstrating how State of Divinity keeps ratcheting up the tension to keep the audience hooked (of course most of the credit goes to Jin Yong, who wrote the novel). I am going to translate the scene (with abridgements), and whenever something happens which increases the tension, I will increase the font size. Ready?

This is a dinner party hosted by Liu Zhengfeng, where everybody is polite. They won’t stay polite for long.

Yu Canghai: Yue Buqun, you’re looking younger and younger! Apparently the Violet Mist Divine Skill is extending your life.
Yue Buqun: You flatter me, my skills are nothing much really. But you look like you are in excellent shape.
Yu Canghai: Oh, you are much too polite.
Liu Zhengfeng: Welcome, Yue Buqun and Yu Canghai.
[polite talk that I’m not translating]
Liu Zhengfeng: Ah, Abbess Dingyi has arrived. Oh, and the Huashan Sect disciples have also come. Welcome, welcome!
[more polite talk]
[but Abbess Dingyi looks displeased]
Yue Buqun: Abbess Dingyi, is there a problem?
Dingyi: Ah, it is best that you are here. I want an explanation.
Yue Buqun: What do you want me to explain?
Dingyi: Your unbridled disciple Linghu Chong’s absolutely unexcusable behavior.

[Yue Buqun looks at the Huashan Sect disciples. I should note that Yue Buqun is the leader of the Huashan Sect.]

The Huashan Sect disciples.

Yue Buqun: Though my disciple is a bit mischievous, he’s always been frank and outspoken. If he’s said anything which offended you, I will apologize for him.
Liu Zhengfeng: Let’s discuss this slowly and calmly, and keep the peace.
Yue Buqun: Yes.
Dingyi: Yue Buqun, please bring your horrid disciple Linghu Chong out immediately!
Yue Buqun: Bring him out?
Dingyi: Your horrid disciple is associating with that rapist Tian Guangbo, and they kidnapped my disciple Yilin!

[tension goes up]
Yue Buqun: That is impossible. Though Linghu Chong often misbehaves, he would never do such a thing. There must be a misunderstanding.
Dingyi: This is completely true. Taishan Sect’s Tian Songdao saw it with his own eyes! And Yu Canghai’s disciple Mai Renda also saw it!

[tension goes up]
Yu Canghai: My disciple saw it? Then it must be true. [laughs] I never would have though that the great ‘gentleman sword’ Yue Buqun would train such a base disciple! [laughs more]

Yue Buqun, though not amused, stays calm.

Yue Buqun: Abbess Dingyi, I feel that what you said still leaves room for doubt. Alas, Linghu Chong isn’t here now to tell his side of the story. For the moment, we cannot get to the bottom of this.
Dingyi: You think that just because Linghu Chong isn’t here, you can clear yourself of this matter?!
Yue Buqun: That’s not what I mean, but…
Taishan Sect Person: Linghu Chong, you scum, bring your ass out now!
[The Taishan Sect comes in with two bodies, one dead]

[tension goes up]
Taishan Sect Person: Linghu Chong, you monster, I am going to kill you!
[Liu Zhengfeng approaches one of the bodies, which is still moving]
Liu Zhengfeng: How did Tian Songdao get so severely injured? Who killed Chi Baicheng?
Tianmen Daoren: It was that rapist Tian Guangbo! Yue Buqun, bring out that Linghu Chong immediately!
Lingshan: What does the fact that Tian Guangbo attacked your disciples have to do with Brother Linghu Chong?
Tianmen Daoren: Though Linghu Chong didn’t kill him himself, it’s Linghu Chong’s fault that he died! He injured my disciple, killed my disciple, and Linghu Chong sat and did nothing! He should pay!
[sounds of agreement]
Liu Zhengfeng: Tianmen Daoren, let’s slow down a little. How could Linghu Chong be with Tian Guangbo? We should wait for this to be fully investigated. If Linghu Chong did do something wrong, I will persuade him to change his ways.
Tianmen Daoren: Persuade him to change his ways?! We should expel him, and take his head!
Lu Dayou: Tianmen Daoren, you’re taking this too far! Brong Linghu Chong hasn’t killed anybody, so nobody should execute him!
[Yu Canghai, leader of the Qingcheng Sect, is still smiling]
Dingyi: Who says he hasn’t killed anybody? He killed someone from the Qingcheng Sect!
[Yu Canghai stops smiling]

This is Yu Canghai *not* smiling.

[tension goes up]
Yu Canghai: WHAT! Linghu Chong killed one of my disciples? Killed who?
[The Qingcheng Sect disciples enter with a dead body]

Qingcheng Disciple: Shifu, it’s too late!
Yu Canghai: What happened?
Qingcheng Disciple: Brother Luo has been killed!
Yu Canghai: Who killed him?
Qingcheng Disciple: Linghu Chong!
Yu Canghai: So Linghu Chong really did kill him.
Qingcheng Disciple: I saw it with my own eyes. Alas, I was no match for Linghu Chong, and couldn’t save Brother Luo from that villain!
Lingshan: Who are you calling a villain?!
Yue Buqun: Did you really see Linghu Chong kill him?
Qingcheng Disciple: I’d recognize him even if he were a heap of ashes!
[Yu Canghai pulls out a sword from the dead body. The sword has the name ‘Linghu Chong’ engraved on it]

Linghu Chong’s sword

[tension goes up]
Yu Canghai: It’s proven that Linghu Chong did this, what do you say now, Yue Buqun?
Yue Buquen: This is definitely Linghu Chong’s sword. Yu Canghai…
Yu Canghai: You’re still defending your disciple?! You hypocrite!
Liu Zhengfeng: Yu Canghai, you have my deepest sympathies. But it has not been proven beyond all doubt that Linghu Chong did this. If we keep going on like this, I fear we will break the peace … we must find and question Linghu Chong. What do all of my guests think?
Yue Buqun: Brother Liu, you are right. Denuo and Dayou, go out and bring Linghu Chong here.
Denuo and Dayou: Yes, shifu.
Yu Canghai: You three, help them find Linghu Chong. I don’t trust that Yue Buqun won’t try to shelter him.
Qinggcheng Discipes: Yes, shifu.
Liu Zhengfeng: Danian, send someone to help them find Linghu Chong and Yilin.
Danian: Yes, shifu.
Liu Zhengfeng: Abbess Dingyi, don’t worry, we’ll soon find your disciple Yilin.
Yilin: Shifu!
[Yilin, the nun who was ‘kidnapped by that rapist Tian Guangbo and the horrid Linghu Chong’ enters]
Dingyi: Yilin!

[tension goes up]
Yilin: [weeping] Shifu, I never thought I would live to see you again!
Dingyi: Yilin, don’t cry. Shifu asks you, did you see that horrid Linghu Chong?
Yilin: Brother Linghu? [Yilin weeps some more]
Dingyi: Don’t cry! Tell shifu, did you see him or not?
Yilin: Disciple did see Brother Linghu.
Dingyi: Where is he?
Tianmen Daoren: Yes, where is Linghu Chong?
Yilin: Brother Linghu … he’s … he’s dead.
Huashan Sect People: Dead!
[I should point out that Linghu Chong is *the main protagonist*. And this is episode 6 out of 43 episodes. Therefore, the tension practically leaps into the air here. However, for technical reasons, I am not going to increase the font size to 50]

Yilin and Abbess Dingyi

Lingshan: Sister Yilin, who did you hear this from?
Yilin: I saw it with my own eyes.
[Lingshan faints]
Huashan Sect Disciples: Sister!
Yue Buqun: Take her back to her room.
Huashan Sect Disciples: Yes, shifu.
Yu Canghai: Well, it’s best that Linghu Chong is already dead. It looks like I won’t have to sully my hands by killing him.
[Yue Buqun gives Yu Canghai a stare]
Yue Buqun: Yilin, do you know who killed Linghu Chong?
Yilin: Linghu Chong … was [points at dead Qingcheng disciple Luo Renjie] killed by him!
Yu Canghai: [expletive], my disciple Luo Renjie was clearly killed by Linghu Chong! Are you saying that my disciple is Linghu Chong’s murderer?! What logic is this!
Yilin: Brother Linghu really was killed by this bad man!
Yu Canghai: You DARE SAY THAT! The people of my Qingcheng Sect are bad people? All of your Five-Mountain-Alliance people are good people, eh?
Yilin: I didn’t say that Uncle Yu was bad just … just that he [pointing at the body] is bad.
Yu Canghai: You… [approaches Yilin, Dingyi blocks him]
Dingyi: You dare threaten my disciple! Yilin, don’t fear, your shifu is here to protect you. Please explain to everybody exactly why he [pointing at the body] is a bad man.

I could keep translating, but I think you already understand why it was hard for me to stop myself from watching this (even though I already know the story). Suffice to say, it’s an interesting dinner party.

The Story

I have summarized the story already hereand here. Instead of summarizing it again, I will offer this quote from a minor
character, Huang Zhonggong, which I think sums up the essence of the story:

“When we four brothers first entered the Sun Moon Cult, we thought we could carry out heroic deeds all over jianghu. Who knew that Ren Woxing [leader of the Sun Moon Cult] was so violent, and so hungry for power? Long after we four brothers had been disillusioned, Dongfang Bubai became the leader, and he loves wickedness even more. He executed all of the elders, and we four became even more disheartened. We decided to retreat to Plum Villa, and guard the prisoner. Firstly, far from Heimuya [headquarters of the Sun Moon Cult], we did not have to participate in all of the internecine struggle and backstabbing. Secondly, we could quietly live by Xihu, and fill our days with music and books. We can say that we have had twelve happy years. Nevertheless, in life the sorrows are many, and the joys are few. That is the nature of life.”

Just after saying that, Huang Zhonggong dies. With a few changes (i.e. replace ‘we four brothers’ with ‘Linghu Chong’), this would be an even better summary of the entire story that what I wrote.

I also suspect there is a touch of autobiography. The China where Jin Yong grew up was torn between various groups vying for control. In high school, he was punished for insulting the government in power.

As an adult, he moved to Hong Kong, where he has definitely lived a life full of books and letters … yet he could do almost nothing about the political situation in China. Many people say that Jin Yong had supported the Chinese Communist Party (some people say he is still a communist). This novel was written during the Cultural Revolution.

I am far from done…

So come back next week for Part 2!

Last week, Sara K. helped make some mud volcanic tofu, and then ate it. Why is it called mud volcanic tofu? It’s made from soybeans, water, and mud from a mud volcano. It actually tastes quite good.

It Came From the Sinosphere: Laughing In the Wind (Part 2)

August 27, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Read part 1

What Sense of Vision!

I have come to really appreciate the films of Li Han-hsiang. He once studied to be a painter, and it really shows in the way that his films are full of beautifully framed. He also happens to be one of the most influential Chinese-language movie directors ever.

This drama gives me the same sense of wonderfully arranged images (the people who made this drama most likely studied the work of Li Han-hsiang during their film studies).

I mentioned the gorgeous scenery in the previous post, but there is much more to making a visually beautiful TV drama than selecting locations well. Aside from the natural scenery, this drama has a dazzling abundance of striking imagery.

Take, for example, this picture of Lin Pingzhi:

I really like the way the windows (with its square pattern) frames Lin Pingzhi, and I like the way Lin Pingzhi’s body contrasts with the shadow of his right arm.

And here’s a shot of Yue Buqun and Ning Zhongze (though it’s hard to tell it’s them):

I think we can agree that it’s not the setting itself that is impressive, but the composition of the stone structure, the sun, the mountains, and the figures which stands out. There’s also the effect of the light and prevalence of grey (which really fits the mood of this particular scene).

And look at these two women in the cave:

It’s a nice cave, but what really makes this image work is the thin, diagonal slit through which we can see the characters. Diagonal lines are generally more eye-catching than horizontal or vertical lines.

I could keep on pulling more and more examples if I wanted, because this TV drama simply has so much fantastically composed images. I just need to pick a random spot in a random episode in order to find more noteworthy images in a short time.

There’s also the attention paid to the characters’ appearances. For example, Yu Canghai and his Qingcheng sect have rather imaginative costumes…

… with the final touch being that, when he’s in a serious fight, he pulls various colorful masks out from his hyperspace arsenal.

And then there are the visual metaphors. For example, as Ren Yingying and Linghu Chong’s romantic feelings grown into a committed relationship, a group of ducklings grow into ducks. And, considering that this is wuxia, and that to be real wuxia, a story has to present someone weeping over an injured/dying loved one (or at the very least subvert this trope), I find it appropriate that we see the mature ducks as Ren Yingying weeps over a bashed-up Linghu Chong for the first time.

This TV drama truly is a feast for the eyes.

… And There’s the Ending

This is such a good drama … and then, at the end, it drops the ball.

Obviously, I cannot describe the problems with the ending in detail without spoilers. But I think I can make some general, spoiler-free observations.

The best comparison I can make (which would be familiar to MangaBookshelf readers) is the first Neon Genesis Evangelion anime. The last two episodes are infamous for disappointing viewers. Of course, that wasn’t the ending which was originally planned, but Gainax went over-budget, so they needed and ending which could be produced cheaply.

In spite of the last two episodes, I still think that Neon Genesis Evangelion is one of the greatest anime ever made (I pretend that the original anime ends at episode 24). Likewise, I think that, in spite of the last few episodes, Laughing in the Wind is one of the best Chinese-language dramas I’ve ever seen.

Furthermore, the last few episodes are still as visually fantastic as the entire drama.

The fact that the ending of Laughing In the Wind diverges from the original novel is not the problem. However, if you change the ending of a good story, you need to change things throughout the story in order to maintain consistency. The Ang Lee version of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was good about making the necessary changes throughout the story so that, when it does have an ending different from the original novel, it feels natural to the audience. Yet the the ending of the original novel would have felt more natural in Laughing In the Wind than the ending which the drama actually has. To me, that indicates that a) they had probably originally intended to have an ending closer to the one in the original novel and b) the choice to change the ending was probably not made for artistic reasons.

So why change the ending? I can speculate…

– Budget. I don’t think the original ending would have been any more expensive to produce, but maybe I’m wrong about that, and this show went over-budget just like Neon Genesis Evangelion (I can easily believe that it went over-budget at least).
– Other Production Reasons. Maybe they were originally promised 45 episodes, and then an executive somewhere told them that it can only be 40 episodes long.
– Audience Reaction. Maybe they thought audiences wouldn’t like the original ending so much. In that case, they are wrong – I have never seen/read any complaints about the ending of the original novel, whereas I have encountered quite a few complaints about the way that Laughing in the Wind ends.
– Political. It’s well known that many people interpret this story as a political allegory, so maybe some censor wanted to change the ending to de-politicize it. But I think this would have been a silly move. The original, uncensored novel is currently widely available in China, so changing the ending to make it more politically palatable seems pointless.

I think ‘Budget’ and ‘Other Production Reasons’ are the most likely speculations.

Personally, I pretend that Laughing in the Wind ends the same way as the novel.

Availability in English

I’ve already mentioned that it’s available, in its entirety, on Dramafever. It’s also available on Region 1 DVDs with English subtitles, which you can find for sale on the internet very quickly using ordinary search techniques.

Conclusion

This drama feels like it was put together by an exquisite artisan. The casting of the actors is excellent, the scenery is spectacular, the script (barring the last few episodes) is superb, the costumes are imaginative, etc.

Yet it manages to pull off this artistry without ever feeling pretentious. It does not show off its artistic excellence to the audience. Instead, it invites the audience to entire a space which has been curated for virtuosity. It doesn’t need to tell the audience that it’s good, it simply just is good.

I think it is this attention to detail, in addition to the strength of the story itself, which makes this drama such a delight to watch. Highly recommended.

And Then There’s State of Divinity

State of Divinity 1996 is yet another TV adaptation of the same novel. In fact, this novel has been adapted for television a whopping six times (including the 2013 adaptation, starry Joe Chen from Fated to Love You, not to mention two sets of movie adaptations (and this is before we talk about the manhua and video game adaptations).

However, people generally hold up Laughing in the Wind and State of Divinity as being the best adaptations of the novel. Though I’m not familiar with every adaptation, I agree, these are the two best. But how do these two compare with each other? You’ll find out, because next time my subject will be State of Divinity 1996.

And I’m going to lock up the lesser of these two TV adaptations in this cage.

Sara K. just happened to be away from Taiwan proper when a typhoon came along. This is why she was at Fuao harbor an hour and a half before they started selling tickets for the Taima ferry – and the line was already long (lots of flights had been cancelled). She did get a ferry ticket – and while the Taima ferries are usually quite smooth and comfortable, this last ride through an approaching typhoon was the most stomach-churching boat ride Sara K. has ever been on. And the ride lasted nine hours (to be fair, the first 4-5 hours were okay – the ferry wasn’t so close to the typhoon at first). She remained dizzy for over an hour after she reached land (she kept on wondering why the ground was shifting under her).

It Came from the Sinosphere: Laughing in the Wind

August 14, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

Ah, Laughing in the Wind. While I simply couldn’t resist putting this screenshot at the top, I think I should begin at the beginning.

The Opening Scene

I at first was planning to describe the opening scene fully, but then I realized that it would be easier to direct readers to Dramafever so they can watch the opening scene themselves. If you can, I suggest you watch the first eight minutes or so (up to the point where the horse-riders come in) before I share my observations. I realize not everyone can (for example, *I* cannot access this show on Dramafever, so I’m assuming that it’s the same as my DVD version), so I’ll try to provide enough description so that even those without access can follow along.

First of all, do you notice the theme song? I think that is one of the most low-key TV theme songs I have ever encountered. On the one hand, by being so low-key, it invites the viewers to judge the show for what it is. On the other hand, by being so low-key, it’s also saying ‘this show is different’.

Then, we see two strangers get along very well, playing music and drinking wine. However, it turns out that these two strangers belong to different factions – factions which insist that the other is Totally Awful and Should Always Be Treated as an Enemy. The older man seems to have no problem associating with a member of the other faction, and offers his friendship in spite of the difference in faction. The younger man, however, refuses, because *his* elders forbade him from having any dealings with the Sun Moon Cult.

Thus, in less than ten minutes, the viewers learn what pretty much the entire TV show is about: Montagues and Capulets (with lots of music, swords, and wine, of course).

The Story

I’ve already summarized this story once as a political allegory, but I’ll summarize it again, this time time with a Romeo-and-Juliet theme.

There is a group known as the ~~Montagues~~ Five Mountain Sword Sects, and another group known as the ~~Capulets~~ Sun Moon Cult. They are bitter enemies. ~~Romeo~~ Linghu Chong belongs to the Huashan Sect, which is part of the alliance. He has some rather antagonistic encounters with ~~Juliet~~ ‘Shenggu’ (that’s Chinese for ‘holy maiden’ or ‘lady saint’), who is of course part of the Sun Moon Cult.

Liu Zhengfeng belongs to one of the Five Mountain Sword Sects, and love music. Qu Yang belongs to the Sun Moon Cult, and also loves music. In spite of the enmity between the Five Mountain Sword Sects and the Sun Moon Cult, these two become great friends, and compose a wonderful work of music which they title ‘The Laughing Proud Wanderer’.

Well, when the ~~Montagues~~ Five Mountain Sword Sects learn about Liu Zhengfeng and Qu Yang’s relationship, things turn out really badly. Before the conclusion of this particular story, Liu Zhengfeng and Qu Yang pass on the score of ‘The Laughing Proud Wanderer’ to Linghu Chong. They ask him to preserve it so that it may not be lost to the ages.

The thing is, Linghu Chong knows nothing about music, so he can hardly play the tune itself. Now, ‘Shenggu’ is a musical expert, but … that would require Linghu Chong and ‘Shenggu’ to cooperate. And if they cooperated by pooling the musical score (Linghu Chong) and musical skills (Shenggu), they might start liking each other, which would be ~~fascinating~~ dangerous. Look at what happened to Liu Zhengfeng and Qu Yang because of their musical collaboration. Might the tune ‘The Laughing Proud Wanderer’ cause ~~Romeo and Juliet~~ Linghu Chong and ‘Shenggu’ to have a similar fate?

Background

This TV series is adapted from Jin Yong’s novel The Laughing Proud Wanderer (notice that the novel is named after the piece of music).

This series is significant because a) it is producer Zhang Jizhong’s first Jin Yong adaptation (I’ve written about Zhang Jizhong before) and b) the first Jin Yong TV adaptation ever made in mainland China.

For many years, all of Jin Yong’s works were banned in China, and as Jin Yong’s most political novel, The Laughing Proud Wanderer was probably especially unwelcome by the Chinese Communist Party. The fact that this was the first novel they adapted is, to me, quite interesting.

I wonder if the makers of this TV series ever felt like a chick in Shenggu’s grasp.

Just before this series was produced, Jin Yong revoked TVB’s (in Hong Kong) license to adapt his works because he strongly disliked their last couple adaptations. I’ve read that he sold the rights to Zhang Jizhong for a single yuan on condition that he produce an adaptation as good as his adaptations of Water Margin and Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

In other words, the people making this series had pressure on them. They definitely had pressure from Jin Yong, who might never allow another adaptation to be made in mainland China if they disappointed him, they had indirect pressure from Chinese censors (my understanding is that, even when Chinese censors do not directly interfere, it’s always a lingering concern), and most of all, they had to prove to fans that a mainland Chinese Jin Yong production could be good.

The Scenery

One thing which really stands out about this TV show is the embarrassing abundance of gorgeous landscapes. Mist-filled forests, serene waterfalls, lofty mountains, you name it. This is actually pretty common in wuxia (just as it’s common in Westerns), but I know of no other work of wuxia which excels at natural scenery as much as this series.

Obviously, some of the scenery is the ‘Wu Yue’ (Five Great Mountains), which according to this article are ecologically in better shape than equivalent non-sacred areas in China.

You gotta have a lotus pond.

I also get the feeling that most of this TV show was filmed in southern China – which would make sense since part of the story is set in southern China. The main reason I get this feeling is that much of the scenery looks similar to Taiwan, which (at lower elevations) is ecologically similar to south-eastern China.

Sandstone cliffs with lots of plants and a stream.

This looks like Taiwan.

After moving to Taiwan, I’ve become an outdoor enthusiast – I generally try to go out to Taiwan’s forests/grasslands/waterfalls etc. whenever feasible. And I’ve developed a personal attachment to Taiwan’s environment. Much of the landscape in this TV show feels really familiar to me – particular the landscapes which looks like subtropical forests on top of sandstone. That the characters live in a place which looks very much like where I like to hang out in my free time gives me an odd yet warm feeling.

This does not look so much like Taiwan (though maybe one could find something like this in Taiwan at the right elevation).

Faithfulness?

Since this is an adaptation, some people want to ask ‘is this faithful to the original novel?’

My short answer is ‘no’.

That said, I still consider it an adaptation, rather than fanfiction. Most of the overall plot and characters come through. However, there are a lot of changes, most of them small, but they add up.

Two broad changes stand out to me:

– The ‘Romeo-and-Juliet’ Slant. My summary above might have thrown off people familiar with the original novel. Trust me, it reflects the TV show.
– Courtesy. The characters show much more tact in this TV show than in the original novel. I actually didn’t realize just how rude the characters are until I saw their rudest behavior stripped away. No caves full of blind men insulting their enemies’ grandmothers in this adaptation. While I think the outrageous comments are the most memorable dialogue from the novel, the story actually stick works very well without the rudeness. Plus, one side-effect of the characters’ cleaning their mouths is that this TV show is significantly less trans-phobic than the original.

Blood mixes with flower petals as the lovers die (I’m not saying *which* lovers die, so this is not a spoiler)

I don’t mind most of the changes. If I want something exactly like the original novel, I should just go re-read the original novel (and let me tell you, some parts of the novel are so flawed that even the most faithful adaptations alter them). I demand quality, not faithfulness to the source.

Speaking of changes…

Ren Yingying

Ren Yingying (aka ‘Shenggu’) has a much bigger presence in this show than in the novel. She appears in the very first episode, and appears in most episodes after that. By contrast, she doesn’t appear at all in the first half of the novel.

I had felt that the Linghu Chong / Ren Yingying romance was not as powerful as that of some of Jin Yong’s other romantic couples simply because they do not spend enough time together. This TV show definitely takes care of this, and I felt the rapport between them much stronger here than in the novel. Besides, some of the ‘new’ scenes between them are just plain fun (which, for me, compensates for the omission of Ren Yingying’s tartest comments in the novel).

However, it’s not just the romance which benefits from Yingying’s increased screentime – it’s her entire character development.

In the novel, Yingying doesn’t seem to grow very much. I know that, technically, she does change in the novel, but she doesn’t show up enough for me to really feel it as a reader. But here, in this TV show, her growth as a character is much, much, much more apparent. And I think a character as interesting as here deserves a bit more spotlight.

There is More to Come…

I am not done talking about this TV show, but I think this is a good place to pause. In the mean time, if I have piqued your interest and you have Dramafever access, you can watch it and form your own opinions.

One can learn quite a bit about somebody just from their book collection. Sara K. has a set of books about the wildflowers of Taiwan, as well as three books about hiking in northern Taiwan, two travel books about other parts of Taiwan, and some hiking maps of Taiwan. Just like China, Taiwan has its own ‘Wu Yue’ – Yushan, Syueshan, Xiuguluanshan, Nanhudashan, and Beidawushan, which, though less famous, are actually much higher than China’s Wu Yue.

It Came From the Sinosphere: Shadow of Visions

August 6, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Example Scene

When I first picked this up and browsed through it, this was the scene that caught my eye.

Wanxiang’s dream is to win the beauty pageant so she can win the prize, return to her hometown, marry her childhood friend, and live comfortably ever after.

However, a seer has told her that it’s best for her to forget about the pageant and just return to her hometown now. But without the prize, she will be poor. And she’s certain she will win.

The pageant has started, and Wanxiang is as confident as ever.

It is the most beautiful, splendid, glorious moment of her life …

… and the end of her life.

I was struck by the contrast of her beauty and the serenity all around her, and the fact that she has just been murdered.

The Story

Yingshuang has a dream: the freedom to wander and go where she wants. Strange, I know. However, everybody expects her to marry the son of her wealthy neighbor, Wen Moyan. Though Moyan has been sweet on Yingshuang since childhood, she doesn’t have the slightest interest in being his wife.

Then one day, an apparently blind man, Shan Yumu, appears in the village. He is said to bring bad luck. In fact, he’s not blind – he’s merely tired of seeing the future. And he sees that, unless Yingshuang gives up her dream and marries Moyan, her family will soon be destroyed.

Well … not long afterwards, her home is set on fire, and Yingshuang is the sole survivor of her family. It is eventually revealed that the arsonist/murderer is … Moyan, who is so in love with Yingshuang that, after her repeated refusals of his marriage proposals, was driven to destroy her family so that she would be completely dependent on him and finally agree to marry him (note: if this is “love,” then I hope nobody ever “loves” me).

After Yingshuang frees Yumu (who had been arrested as a suspected arsonist), they start wandering together. But Moyan does not give up so easily…

Background

This is yet another Star Girls title (I have written about StarGirls before). Sheau Giun (she seems to prefer her Taiwanese name to her Mandarin name) is a regular contributor to Star Girls – she has a series running in the magazine right now.

Artwork

Can you tell this is from Taiwan and not Japan just by looking at the artwork?

I can’t. Sure, the visual sensibility is certainly informed by Chinese traditions, but that’s also true of Japanese manga set in historical China.

Of course, this is what I expect from Star Girls, which tries to be as much like Japanese shojo magazines as possible.

And this manhua can be just as bloody as Japanese shojo manga.

I like the artwork. First, it’s very effective at telling the story. It’s also clean, and pleasing to the eye (or at least my eye).

While I could go into a detailed analysis of how the artwork works, this time, I think I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Choice vs. Predestination

Well, the premise of this story is: are our fates determined, or can we choose our fate? (the answer: both, because our choices are predetermined)

The story adds a feminist slant, in that society defines women’s fates more narrowly than men’s. Yingshuang *should* just go ahead and marry Moyan, who will “love” her and spend many happy years with her, while her family can continue to prosper. All she needs to do is give up on her dream of having some freedom.

And when Yingshuang refuses this path, and Moyan decides to burn her family because he “loves” her so much, it’s *Yingshuangs’s* fault that her family is gone and that Moyan is now a criminal. No, not Moyan’s fault at all. In the real world, this victim-blaming happens all the time when men punish women for exercising autonomy.

The thing is: it’s humans who determine this. There wasn’t any supernatural force which makes Moyan act as he does; Moyan, in spite of his claims that Yingshuang’s rejection of his love “forced” him, actually chooses his own actions. However, society assigns the blame to Yingshuang because she has rejected the status quo, whereas Moyan is acting in accordance to the status quo. We later learn that, though Yumu is male, his personal circumstances are more like Yingshuang’s than Moyan’s. This is why, repeatedly throughout the story, people trust Moyan but not Yingshuang or Yumu – Yumu looks like a bum, Yingshuang is a teenage girl, but Moyan is a “charming” man from a “good” (re: powerful) family.

The story puts a neatly ironic twist in Yingshuang’s ‘fate’, but that would be a spoiler.

My History With This Manhua

When I was first nursing a curiosity about Chinese-language comics, there was precious little information available. I could piece together some bits of information from the internet, but it was not very newbie-friendly. I did, however, learn about Star Girls, and lacking better guidance, I went to a Taiwanese comic book shop and picked up the first volume of every Star Girls manhua they had in stock.

This manhua was one of them.

Some of the manhua I picked up from that grab-bag were so terrible that I am grateful that I’ve already forgotten them.

This, however, made the deepest impression. It was one of the few which I bothered to track down in its entirety.

One of the reasons I write this column is so that it will be a little easier for the next person who becomes curious about Chinese-language comics. While this column is not a comprehensive guide, I hope it’s more useful than what I was working with when I started exploring.

Availability in English

This manhua has never been licensed in English *Sara K. experiences a coughing attack*.

Conclusion

This is overall a solid read. While I can quibble about its faults (for example, that plot hole left wide open in the last volume), overall, it’s competent storytelling. I also have fond memories of it being one of the first manhua I liked.

Yet, somehow, it falls short of being so wonderful that I simply MUST SHARE WITH EVERYONE!!!! But perhaps that’s just as well. I’m fine with it going on being the manhua which I like, but which nobody else reads (not that anybody reads the manhua which I enthusiastically recommend either).

Next time: Laughing in the Wind (TV show)

Hail. In Taiwan. In JULY. Sara knows it snows in the mountains in winter, but she sure did not expect the summer to be this cold. After spending three nights at temperatures of about 12 degrees C with only a sleeping bag to keep her warm, Sara was even looking forward to returning to humid, 30+ degrees-C weather. Well, one of the reasons she went to the mountains in the first place was to get away from summer heat. In that respect, the trip was a resounding success.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Starry Starry Night

July 23, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Right near the beginning of the film, our protagonist is sitting inside Taipei Train Station, with a train ticket in her hand. Then it begins to snow.

I think that says more about what kind of movie this is than any blurb I can think up.

The Story

Xiaomei is not as happy living in the city with her parents as she was when she lived with her grandfather in the countryside. She becomes friends with her new classmate, Xiaojie, who is often bullied by the other students.

There is a piece missing in her “Starry Starry Night” jigsaw puzzle, and she can’t find it or replace it.

Eventually, shortly after her grandfather’s death, Xiaomei’s parents announce that they are going to divorce. Afterwards, Xiaomei runs away with Xiaojie to go to the house where she lived with her (now dead) grandfather. But they get lost…

Background

This film is based on the picture book by the very successful Taiwanese illustrator/writer Jimmy Liao, which in turn was named after a certain Vincent Van Gogh painting. It was a Chinese-Taiwanese co-production (China supplied the money, Taiwan supplied the creativity), and the first public screening was at the Busan International Film Festival.

Location, Location, Location

Wow.

First of all, when I saw the first scene, which was filmed in Taipei Train Station, I thought “that is exactly how it looked when I was living in Taipei.” I remember when the scaffolding in the background was first put up. However, it’s been over a year since Taipei train station looked like that (the scaffolding was for the renovation), so I checked. Lo and behold, that scene was shot in March 2011, when I was still living quite close to the train station. Back then, I spent quite a bit of time wandering around Taipei station, pondering whatever was on my mind (for example, I remember one evening when I was walking around Taipei train station and couldn’t stop thinking about Basara). The fact that this is exactly how Taipei Train Station looked when I lived around there (minus the snow, of course) makes this specific scene very nostalgic to me. When I get around to discussing Mars (I can hardly believe that I haven’t dedicated a post to Mars yet) I will say more about the neighborhood.

And then there are the scenes in the Alishan mountains.

This looks like it's might still in the subtropical zone, so I suspect this scene isn't too deep into the Alishan mountains.

This is nothing compared to the famous cypress or bamboo forests in the Alishan region.

The film never says that Xiaomei’s grandfather lived in the Alishan mountains … but it looks like the Alishan mountains, and I know that it was filmed in the Alishan mountains.

The Alishan mountains have an important place in Taiwan’s cultural heritage. First of all, Taiwan’s most famous kind of tea, Alishan mountain tea, is grown there. A popular Taiwanese drink/desert, aiyu, originated in the Alishan mountains, and the best aiyu I’ve ever consumed was in Ruifeng, one of Alishan’s villages. Alishan is one of the most popular places to view Yushan, Taiwan’s highest – and most culturally revered – mountain. And then, there is the famous Alishan Forest Railway, which an important cultural symbol, as well as notorious for its many mishaps. Currently, only a few sections of the railway are in operation (the tracks have a tendency to collapse during earthquakes and typhoons). The silver lining is that, because the trains aren’t running, it is safe to walk on the tracks, which is sometimes the best way to get around the transportation-hostile Alishan range (roads are often washed-out, buses get cancelled, etc). In fact, during the film, Xiaomei and Xiaojie do walk on some train tracks.

There are tons of tea fields in the Alishan region.

Currently, the grandfather’s house is in the historic town of Fenqihu. The movie was not filmed there, but the county requested they move the film set to a place where tourists could visit it. At the time I visited it, I had not seen the movie, but I could see the loving and meticulous care put into all of the little details of the house.

What Does France Have To Do With It?

Xiaomei’s mother is into all things French. She wears French clothes, drinks French wine, decorates her home with French artwork, often talks in France, and after the divorce, she moves to France.

A scene in France.

Until a few decades ago, most prominent visual artists in Taiwan received their training abroad, usually in Japan, China, or … France. When I visit art galleries focusing on Taiwanese artists from before 1980, I can often tell whether the artist trained in Japan, China, or France. Since the institutions to support native talent in the fine arts in Taiwan are relatively young, patrons of the arts who are not so interested in contemporary work often devote most of their attention to foreign art.

What I find interesting is that, in Xiaomei’s imagination, Alishan/Taiwan and France/Europe are not separate worlds. They are part of the same world – her world. Nothing illustrates this more clearly than the scene where an Alishan alpine train rolls through Van Gogh’s “Starry Starry Night.”

Climate-wise, Alishan and France are also not so different. Though Taiwan is a tropical island, the Alishan region is at such as a high elevation that it’s climate is temperate, as you can tell in the movie. When I show some of the photos I’ve taken in Taiwan’s mountainous interior to both Taiwanese and European people, they often comment ‘that looks like Europe’.

The Alishan region also has a significant number of European Catholic missionaries – as reflected in the movie by the abandoned church.

The abandoned church, next to a section of the Alishan railway. There are reasons why most of the Alishan train line is not operating right now, and reasons why, back when it was operating, it was unreliable and had a number of accidents which killed a bunch of passengers.

Strike ‘Em With Magical Realism

A lot of the appeal of this movie comes from juxtaposing ordinary things in an extraordinary way. For example, Taipei Train Station is ordinary, and snow is ordinary, but snow in Taipei Train Station is extraordinary. Ditto with the Alishan alipine train and the painting ‘Starry Starry Night’.

However, sometimes it’s a little more subtle – light the shadow of Xiaomei’s half-naked body in an abandoned church (I’m surprised that I’m calling the silhouette of an adolescent girl changing her clothes inside a church “subtle”).

However, the climax of the movie is Xiaomei’s nightmare.

In her nightmare, her friend Xiaojie, and then her parents, are a jigsaw puzzle – and the pieces are falling apart.

The Human Side

However, what makes a deeper impression on me than the magical realism is the human side of the story.

Xiaomei’s Mother

One of the most memorable scenes is when Xiaomei is dining with her mother in a very posh establishment. Xiaomei asks her mother if she’s happy, and her mother says that she is very happy. It’s obvious to the audience, however, that she is not at all happy. To get away from the topic of her (un)happiness, her mother spontaneously pulls her daughter out of her seat for a dance. For a moment, mother and daughter are cheerfully dancing together and then … the cheerfulness recedes.

It’s little touches like this throughout the film which makes the characters feel lively and real.

Availability in English

This movie is available on DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

I don’t get this movie.

Though I appreciated many of the individual elements in this movie, for some reason, the trees would not come together in my mind to form a forest.

It’s not that the plot is hard to follow. The plot is quite easy to follow. It’s the significance of what happens which baffles me.

I know this is supposed to be a movie about the loss of childhood innocence, and I can get that the jigsaw puzzle is a metaphor for Xiaomei’s life/world. However, I still do not get how some elements tie into this, and I’m not completely sure what the movie is trying to say about the loss of childhood innocence.

Maybe if I were to see the movie again next year, I would totally get it, and wonder why it wasn’t obvious to me before. Or maybe I still wouldn’t get it.

In spite of all this, the movie is still recommended. Even though I had trouble figuring out the sum of the parts, nearly all of the parts are very charming.

Next Time: Shadow of Visions (manhua)

As long as there isn’t a typhoon, or a big earthquake, or roads closed by landslides, or huge rocks falling for no obvious reason, Taiwan’s mountains are an excellent place to get away from the heat of the Taiwanese summer. Sara K. plans to go into the mountains next week, partially for that very reason. Alas, there are plenty of things which can foil her plans. Fortunately, she is less susceptible to altitude sickness than many people, which makes things a little easier.

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Crane-Iron Pentalogy (Part 2)

July 16, 2013 by Sara K. 12 Comments

I actually do not think this image from the manhua is quite in the spirit of the original novels, but it’s still pretty.

Read Part 1

The Development of a Pentalogy

Though the internal chronology is Crane Frightens Kunlun / Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin / Sword Force, Pearl Shine / Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon / Iron Rider, Silver Vase, the first novel to be written/published was the central one, Sword Force, Pearl Shine, followed by Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin, with Crane Frightens Kunlun.

In other words, Wang Dulu first went back in time, and then decided to go back forward in time.

Sword Force, Pearl Shine is the shortest of the five novels, and I suspect that it was originally intended to be a stand-alone novel. However, being shorter, it is also a little less developed than the other novels. This underdevelopment may have been a blessing in disguise, for I suspect it led Wang Dulu to ask himself about Yu Shulien and Li Mubai’s origins, which inspired Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin, and then he asked himself about Southern Crane, which led to writing Crane Frightens Kunlun. Crane Frightens Kunlun itself has a loose end, and tying that up leads to the creation of a key character (Yu Jiaolong) and much of the plot of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Whether that loose end was put in Crane Frightens Kulun on purpose because Wang Dulu was already planning to write Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, I do not know. I strongly suspect, however, that Wang Dulu did deliberately write that open-ended finale ine Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon because he was already planning to write Iron Rider, Silver Vase.

The point is, Wang Dulu did not have a master-plan when he was writing the pentalogy. He let it unfold organically, one book at a time, and even he probably didn’t know where the story was going to go more than a book in advance. The novels are much better because of this.

The scriptwriter Brian McDonald says that storytellers should be the slaves, not the masters, of their stories. To me, it seems that Wang Dulu was not the master of his stories, and I mean that in a good way. On the surface, they seem quite humble and not at all impressive, but they prove to be surprisingly powerful.

About the 2000 Ang Lee Film

Nowadays, even in the Chinese-speaking world, most people know about the Crane-Iron Pentalogy thanks to the 2000 film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. So how does it compare?

The film simplifies the story. A lot. It has to. It’s only two hours long, and most of the audience is not familiar with the events of Crane Frightens Kunlun / Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin / Sword Force, Pearl Light.

While I love the Crane-Iron Pentalogy as a whole, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is the novel I love the least. Unlike the other novels, I felt CTHD has some rather long, tedious sections. The film, quite wisely, leaves out all of the tedious stuff, while keeping the most interesting parts.

Of course, while the movie leaves out a lot detail, it certainly drops quite a few hints. For example, one of the major characters is Cai Xiangmei, a girl who performs acrobatics on the street, yet the only reference to her in the entire movie is a single shot showing a girl performing acrobatics on the street. I think this is Ang Lee’s way of saying ‘Yes, I read the novel, but I simply do not have the screen time to include this character’s story’. I do not think people who haven’t read the novels are consciously aware of these little hints throughout the movie … but I suspect they can still feel that this is just part of a broader story.

Ultimately, the feel of the movie is not the same as the novels. That does not make it a bad movie – in fact, it probably would have been a worse movie if it had tried to stick too close to the novel. I have trouble imagining the subtle psychological tug-and-pull in the novels translating well into film, and of course the gorgeous cinematography of the film is totally absent in the novels.

It’s a good movie, and I recommend it. But…

The Thing Which Bothers Me About the Movie

I am going to be a bit vague to avoid spoilers.

The message of the movie is that you need to recognize, pursue, and consummate (romantic) love before it’s too late. That’s not the message of the original novel, but that is not a problem, nor is it a problem that the movie changes the ending to pull this off. The movie implies that a certain couple never got married because they did not realize how much they loved each other / did not have the courage to pursue their love, and that they regret this. That is also not a problem. The problem is … the couple used to demonstrate this point is Character Y and Character Z (I said I was going to be vague).

In the novels, Y and Z know that they love each other, and they didn’t remain unmarried because of a lack of courage. They stayed unmarried because they decided they did not want to marry. While one could have a great discussion about why they make this choice, it clearly is a deliberate choice on their part.

And they put up with quite a bit of nonsense from other people because of this.

Years after they have made their decision clear, their friends are still scheming up ways to get them married. They get kicked out of shelter onto the street in the middle of the night because of their unmarried status. At one point, someone practically orders them to get married.

But the movie glosses all over this. If two people who are in love with each other refuse marriage, there simply must be a problem, they cannot just be mature adults making thought-out choices about their own personal lives.

I think that’s rather insulting to Character Y and Z, and I think it contradicts the point the novels try to make about freedom in personal relationships. I really wish the movie had found a different way to make this point.

About the New Movie

The word is that Yuen Wo Ping, who was the action choreographer for the Ang Lee film, will be directing the new movie, which I’ve seen titled as both Iron Rider, Silver Vase and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon 2 – the Green Destiny.

My guess is that it will be even less faithful to the original novels than the Ang Lee film, but will probably incorporate at least parts of the story of Iron Rider, Silver Vase. Personally, as long as they make a good movie which does not do anything too irritating, I’ll be happy. That said, I do hope they will include Han Tiefang and not change him too much, since he’s one of my favorite characters in the pentalogy.

The Heart of Wuxia

One of the things which strikes me about wuxia is the emphasis on the characters’ thoughts, feelings, and relationships with each other. This introspective emphasis is much heavier in wuxia than in western speculative fiction (with some exceptions). That’s not to say that wuxia is better than western speculative fiction, since western speculative fiction explores plenty of other things. Nonetheless, the emphasis on feelings and relationships makes wuxia stories (particularly novels) sometimes feel more like romance fiction than the speculative fiction I grew up with.

The Taiwanese edition of Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin

I have not read many of the old (as in written before 1950) wuxia novels, so I cannot make my own analysis, but I’ve read that the older wuxia novels are full of lots of exciting, magical, action-packed adventures, and contain not so much psychology. The claim is that Wang Dulu, and the Crane-Iron Pentalogy in particular, changed that.

Now, anybody reading the Crane-Iron Pentalogy for the fights and action sequences is going to be disappointed. It’s not that it’s badly written, it’s just that all of the ‘action’ parts are really brief. Wang Dulu always uses violence/action as a tool to get the characters where they need to go, and never as an end in itself.

Some say Wang Dulu brought the wuxia genre to maturity. His wuxia-romances certainly became very popular very quickly, and I can tell that he has a strong influence on later writers. Based on what I know, it seems that his major contribution is putting the ‘heart’ – the passion, the introspection, the intense human relationships – into wuxia.

Availability in English

Simon and Schuster acquired the English translation rights to Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and possibly the other novels as well, and then did … nothing.

The 2001 Ang Lee movie, the 2004 movie, and manhua which bear the name Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon are all available in English. I haven’t seen the 2004 movie, though generally it’s considered inferior to the Ang Lee film. I have also yet to read the manhua, but the word is that the first two volumes are actually based on Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin, and that starting around volume 3 the story gets further and further away from the novels.

The manhua, again.

Conclusion

I love the Crane-Iron Pentalogy. I’m still left with a sense that there is something wonderful about the stories which I have totally failed to convey in these two posts.

My love, as you may have gathered, is not equally distributed among the novels. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon gets the least love from me, whereas my favorites are Iron Rider, Silver Vase and Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin. Particularly Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin. It is a beautiful novel which swept me up and then left me in tears. Part of me wishes they would adapt Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin into a movie, and part of me cannot imagine any movie adaptation being as moving as the original.

Next Time: Starry Starry Night (movie)

Sara K. worked on this post as Typhoon Soulik made its way across Taiwan. Soulik managed to greatly annoy Sara K., but it did not do her any major harm.

It Came From the Sinosphere: The Iron-Crane Pentalogy (Part 1)

July 9, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

Book cover for ‘Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin’

The Iron-Crane Pentalogy is not just one of the most influential works of wuxia ever written, it’s possibly the most well-known work of wuxia outside of the Chinese-speaking world. In fact, many Manga Bookshelf readers have already heard of it.

Before you think “Hey, I’m a Manga Bookshelf reader, and I’ve never heard of the Iron-Crane Pentalogy,” look at the titles of the five novels:

1. Crane Frightens Kunlun
2. Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin
3. Sword Force, Pearl Shine
4. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
5. Iron Rider, Silver Vase

The name “Crane-Iron” comes from the titles of the first and final novels.

If you have never heard of a single one of these stories, then okay, you’ve never heard of the Iron-Crane Pentalogy.

The Story

Book cover for ‘Crane Frightens Kunlun’

There is an old man who is the master of the world’s most awesome martial arts. He has two disciples, the older of whom is a mute (and nobody know his name), and the younger of whom is eventually known to the world as “Southern Crane.” Both the mute and Southern Crane transmit their martial arts knowledge to future generations. The Crane-Iron Pentalogy is about the marital artists who learn these awesome technqies.

The first novel, Crane Frightens Kunlun, is about the boyhood of Southern Crane, who was born as Jiang Xiaohe. Jiang Xiaohe centers his youth around getting revenge on Bao “Kunlun” for the murder of his father and forced separation from his mother. Jiang Xiaohe also wants to marry Master Bao’s granddaughter, Bao Ahluan, and it never occurs to him than she might object to him killing her grandfather. Xiaohe’s rashness and anger is an irresistable force, and Bao ‘Kunlun’s narrowmindedness and refusal to openly acknowledge the wrongs he has committed is an immovable object. Irresistable force + immovable object = tragic consequences.

In the second novel, Precious Sword, Golden Hairpin, Li Mubai, the son of two characters in Crane Frightens Kunlun, falls in love with Yu Shulien, whose beauty is only surpassed by her peerless sword-fighting skills and sense of honor. However, it turns out that Yu Shulien already has a fiance, Meng Sizhao. BUMMER! Li Mubai goes to Beijing, where, in his attempt to get over his heartbreak, he gets into a romantic relationship with a prostitute called Xie Cuiqian, who might secretly be a vigilante who rescues innocent girls. Meanwhile, Meng Sizhao’s greedy older brother has forced him to go into exile so he can have the family property all to himself, and Yu Shulien has to deal with her father’s very powerful enemies.

In the third novel, Sword Force, Pearl Light, Southern Crane tells Li Mubai to fix the mess that is his life. Later, people try to get some pearls, people are murdered, a girl gets kidnapped, Yu Shulien gets involved…

In the fourth novel, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and important sword goes missing, and it seems the thief is an expert at martial arts. Did Cai Xiangmei, an acrobat girl who has recently agreed to work as a servant for Yu Jiaolong (daughter of a very high-ranking offical) steal it? Also, we learn that the family who was murdered/kidnapped because of that set of pearls in the third novel has a secret family member, called Lo Xiaohu, who, not knowing his true family origins, is a bandit…

In the fifth novel Iron Knight, Silver Vase, Han Tiefang, who grew up in an official’s family, abandons everything he has to find his mother, who had been kidnapped long ago. Meanwhile, a young martial artist, Chun Xueping, knows almost nothing about her family…

Background

Book cover for ‘Sword Force, Pearl Shine’

The Iron-Crane Pentalogy was originally published in the 1930s and 1940s, and was one of the most popular works of Chinese fiction in that era.

The writer, Wang Dulu, had a strong interest in psychology (for example, he read many of Freud’s works). Before writing wuxia, Wang Dulu was a romance novelist, though apparently many of his ‘romance’ novels were as much about sons clashing with their fathers as they were about romance. And it really shows in the Iron-Crane Pentalogy that Wang Dulu was a romance novelist, since the martial arts are just a plot device, and much more attention is paid to the characters’ romantic feelings.

The “Northern School” and the “Southern School” are the two sets of novelists who are considered responsible for defining the wuxia genre in the 1920s, 30s, and 40s. Wang Dulu is considered one of the key writers from the ‘Northern School’.

I also must note that these novels were just after the first part of the Chinese Civil War, and during the Japanese invasion of China, in other words, China as a state was unravelling. I think this helps explain much of the bleakness and antagonism found in the novels.

Practically every major wuxia writer after 1950 was heavily influenced by Wang Dulu, and the Iron-Crane Pentalogy in particular. I will write more about that later.

Just Enough to Convey the Feeling

Book cover for ‘Iron Rider, Silver Vase’

As you can tell by reading the above attempt at a plot summary, the plot is actually rather complicated … but it feels simple when you read it. In fact, it feels so simple that it’s only after the fact that I realized how many of the subtleties I had absorbed, particularly the little ripples of the characters’ consciousness.

For example, there is a scene (I’m changing the characters’ names to avoid spoilers) where Character A is grieving over the death of Character B. A and B were lovers, and even had a child together, but B left A almost two decades ago, and A never went to find her until it was too late. A is feeling intense grief, not only because B is dead, but because he never said goodbye.

Enter Character C.

C at first is moved by A’s very sincere grief, and his first impulse is to comfort A. Then he holds himself back. C has a great deal of respect for B, and feels that A is no where close to being worthy of her. Furthermore, the fact that A and B had sex and a child out of wedlock was a great stain on B’s honor. Therefore, C decides to torment A, by essentially saying ‘you did not see her for almost twenty years, and now you’re crying because she’s gone. What kind of man are you? A real man would not be weeping over this.’

A replies “You’re right.” Then he says “I am only thinking of her so much because you remind me of her.”

What A and C do not know – but the reader knows – is that C is A and B’s biological son. That makes this little scene all the more poignant.

The novels are full of this subtle little emotional back-and-forth. Wang Dulu states just enough for the reader to understand what is happening, and no more. Unlike many dramatic stories which try to squeeze more dramatic juice than the pulp of the story can supply, Wang Dulu squeezes out just enough dramatic juice to demonstrate just how juicy the story is.

And it works because it feels true. People really do have these emotional entanglements.

If I can use the word “image” to describe something that is emotional rather than visual, then these novels have plenty of striking emotional images.

The Freedom to Define Intimate Relationships

Book cover for ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’

One consistent theme in the pentalogy is that trying to force people to make their intimate relationships fit “socially-acceptable” forms leads to a lot of suffering. For example, Southern Crane’s father was killed because he pursued sex with a woman other than his wife. Is having extramarital sex without some form of agreement from one’s spouse right? No, but adultery does not justify murder, and forcing Southern Crane’s mother to remarry and separate her from her son because it’s the socially appropriate thing to do causes Southern Crane to have an extremely unhappy childhood (also, note that Southern Crane’s mother, even with the adultery, did not want her husband to get get killed).

Another example: Han Tiefang, under pressure from his family, got married when he was only 15 years old … and his marriage is very unsatisfying. Since his wife hasn’t done anything wrong, he doesn’t want to divorce her (and thereby deprive her of economic support), so instead he leaves town forever (or at least that’s what he thinks) to look for his mother.

This happens again and again throughout the pentalogy. Intimate relationships which do not follow narrowly defined social norms (which is quite a few of the intimate relationships in the pentalogy) get heavily policed.

The pentalogy also shows quite a range of intimate relationships. Some women who are unmarried and not prostitutes choose to have sex (SHOCK). Some people love and want to marry women who are not virgins (SHOCK). Some people even love and want to marry prostitutes (SHOCK). Sometimes people in intimate relationships are not having sex with each other (SHOCK). Sometimes people in intimate relationships do not want to marry each other (SHOCK).

The stories are heteronormative, but considering they were written in 1930s/40s China, I would have been extremely surprised if they were not.

One of the more subtle points is that, for intimate relationships to be satisfying, people need time. Most of all, they need time to figure themselves out, and discover who they are and what they want, before they can build a mature intimate relationship. This is exactly why pressuring people to marry young (a pressure that most of the characters feel) can lead to disaster.

And there’s more…

The Iron-Crane Pentalogy is one of my favorite works of Chinese fiction, so of course I’m not done discussing it. Come back next week for Part II.

Sara K. loves fresh lychee fruit. She ate some right before working on this post.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Island, End of Nightmare (Manhua)

July 2, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Why couldn’t I find this image in a bigger size?

Hello, everyone! I’m back.

The Story

During a trip to an island in the South China sea, a teenager called Luonian has an encounter with a phoenix, and then a giant dog (a demon?) pins him to the ground. Then Luonian wakes up in a hospital in Taiwan. Was it just a nightmare?

Back in his hometown, Banqiao, Luonian gets attacked by a demon … which gets taken down by some fellow senior high school students. Apparently, a number of teenage demon hunters attend Luonian’s senior high school, but demon hunters are generally pretty discreet about their work, so he wasn’t aware of their activities before. Now that he knows, their offer to train him and let him join their demon-hunting club.

To make matters worse, that “dog,” who is actually a nine-tailed fox and is called “Huaizhen,” comes back. Huaizhen had waited 3000 years to get the “aura” of that phoenix … and Luonian had “stolen” that opporunity by getting the “aura” of the phoenix instead.
Therefore, Huaizhen wants to eat him. However, they strike a deal – Luonian lets Huaizhen suck his phoenix-aura-laden-energy (note: this might not be the best way to translate this from Chinese), and Luonian will let him live. Furthermore, since demons are attracted to the phoenix-aura, Luonian should expect a lot more demons in his life from now on.

In case you’re not familiar with Chinese-mythology, men are supposed to feel extreme sexual attraction towards nine-tailed-foxes. In Huaizhen’s experience, this is generally true … with the notable of Luonian, who doesn’t have the least bit of sexual interest in Huaizhen. Huaizhen finds this … intriguing.

Finally, Huaizhen urges Luonian to join the demon-hunters because a) they can help protect him from the demons (and if the demons get him, she can’t suck his energy) and b) she wants to know more about the demon-hunters. But Huaizhen makes a point of hanging around Luonian a lot, pretending to be Luonian’s teenager sister, and if the demon-hunters learn about her true nature…

Background

This manhua is adapted from a series by a very popular online novelist called Moren. Moren is known for mixing fantasy, wuxia, and science fiction together. I myself have only read the first couple volumes of Island, End of Nightmare, and I would call it fantasy with elements of wuxia and science fiction rather than blend (I feel it has a lot more in common with the YA fantasy I’ve read than the wuxia or science-fiction I’ve read).

The artist YinYin with Han Baobao, who did the writing for the manhua adaptation.

The manhua edition is drawn by YinYin, who also drew the illustrations and book covers for the original novels. YinYin is a regular contributor to Crative Comics Collection, and has produced her own original manhua.

The Artwork

YinYin says in the interview at the end of the volume that, when drawing for manhua, her first priority is to communicate the story, and aesthetic considerations (i.e. is the artwork pretty) are secondary. I think this is a good set of priorities since comic books are storytelling media, and there are many other media for artists who want to put aesthetics first.

SURPRISE! Fellow senior high school student nabs demon. There is a big, clear panel showing the main action, with supporting panels with reaction shots. Also, notice that the demon hunter is erect and vertical, while the demon is horizontal, making a nice right-angle.

And I think YinYin gets the “storytelling” part down. The artwork does an excellent job of clearly communicating the story. Though the plot summary above may seem a bit complicated, it’s actually quite easy to follow in the manhua itself, and I think the artwork definitely helps. It took much less effort to follow the manhua than the original novel, and the novel itself is not hard to follow.

I also don’t think putting the story first costs the aesthetics anything.

First of all, the more I look at it, the more I like the cover illustration of the novel. I really dig the blue/orange theme – and it’s very appropriate that Luonian is blue, and that Huaizhen is orange, since they act as opposite personalities. Come to think of it, this is a beautiful example of storytelling and aesthetics coming together.

This ‘big main panel with supporting reaction panels’ composition really works.

The artwork clean and smooth. I think the trick is that YinYin makes sure there is enoguh detail to give the artwork meaning, yet it stays simple enough that everything is focused and the reader’s eye is not distracted by minutiae. And YinYin knows how to make a page pop with a simple, striking image. Most pages are not like that, but then again, if they were, then they wouldn’t pop.

Getting nabbed by a giant dog definitely pops.

And some of the images are simply, well, graceful.

I like this page for some reason.

In fact, I think this is the best work I’ve seen from YinYin.

The phoenix, of course, is lovely.

YinYin also says that, while obviously there is a strong Japanese influence on her work, she tries to express her own style rather than try to make her artwork look like Japanese manga.

Where Have I Seen This Before

If you have read a significant amount of general manga – heck, even if you’re just reasonably familiar with YA fantasy – this should seem like familiar territory. The question is: what sets this tale of teenage demon-hunters apart from other tales of teenage demon-hunters?

One way to stand out is to have superlative writing. Though this story is well-written … and there are definitely touches I like (for example, the fact that Luonian’s senior high school just happens to have a demon-hunting group, and of course he didn’t know about it since there was no reason for him to know about it) … the storytelling alone is not exceptional enough to make it stand out from the other well-written stories in this genre.

Alas, the story’s attempts at puberty/sexual humor is not one of the things which makes it stand out.

The thing which does make this story stand out is that it is set in Taiwan.

All other things being equal, people are usually more interested in stories about their own society and themselves than stories about other societies and other people. Taiwanese people are no exception. While Taiwanese people love Japanese manga, all other things being equal, they find things even more interesting if it’s about Taiwanese people in Taiwan than Japanese people in Japan.

While it’s not apparent in the first volume of the manhua (though I’m sure this will come through in future volumes), this story really does run all over Taiwan, and I think that is on purpose. There is such variety in Taiwan itself that one can find quite a variety of interesting locations without ever going abroad. As someone who has travelled extensively in Taiwan, I really enjoy this aspect of the story.

Availability in English

Ha ha ha ha ha.

Conclusion

I have no intention of continuing with this manhua, or with continuing the original novel series. It’s good enough that I don’t mind reading it, it’s just that there is so much more out there that I’m much more excited to read.

This manhua seems to be part of a campaign by the publisher Gaea to promote local manhua, particularly manhua which is distinctively Taiwanese. Making one of the first manhua an adaptation of a popular novel series is probably a good move, at least as far as getting readers’ attention. Considering the recent successes of movies made in Taiwan, I think there is definitely an audience out there for good, distinctively local manhua. The main thing needed to build that readership is to create and publish consistently high-quality manhua to attract and, more importantly, keep them.

However, though this volume was first published last August, volume 2 has yet to appear. That conceivably could be because the artist is too busy … but I think it’s a sign that the manhua has not been selling well.

Next time: The Iron-Crane Pentalogy (novels)

So much has happened in the past few weeks, where can Sara K. begin? Well, she is now one of rare people in the world who can honestly say that she has soked in an outdoor seawater hotspring in the middle of a thunderstorm. There are only three seawater hot springs in the world, and considering her geographic location, Manga Bookshelf readers can probably figure out that she did not go to the one in Sicily.

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Lady Hermit

June 11, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

Wow. A Hong Kong martial arts movie which puts a female-female relationship at the heart of the story.

The Story

A servant called Leng Yushang observes talented young woman called Cui Ping comes to town. Cui Ping is embarking on a career of helping innocent people and kicking butt. She is searching for “Zhong Kui Niang” (who I will henceforth refer to as “the Lady Hermit”) so she can become her disciple and learn how to kick butt even harder. The catch is that nobody knows where ‘the Lady Hermit’ is. The ‘Lady Hermit’ had been badly injured by the ‘Black Demon’, and hasn’t been seen since. Little does Cui Ping know that Leng Yushang is, in fact, the ‘Lady Hermit’ living incognito.

Of course, while Cui Ping tries to uphold justice, she gets into a lot of trouble (criminals generally are not amused when their activities are discrupted), so Leng Yushang has to interfere, and eventually, break her cover.

Background

Zhong Kui is a figure from Chinese mythology who fights and surppresses demons. “Zhong Kui Niang” means “Lady Zhong Kui,” implying the Leng Yushang, like Zhong Kui, is a mysterious vanquisher of evil.

This film stars the legendary martial arts actress Cheng Peipei as the “Lady Hermit.” You know how I always like to compare martial arts to dancing? Before starring in martial arts movies, Cheng Peipei studied ballet for six years. This is also the first film which casts Shi Szu in a leading role as “Cui Ping,” and thus put her on the map. I’ve read that Shaw Brothers intentionally wanted to make Shi Szu “the next Cheng Peipei,” so the purpose of the film was probably to transfer the aura of Cheng Peipei onto Shi Szu. Not that I’m complaining.

The Fighting

Since this was made during the golden era of the Shaw Brothers, of course all of the fighting is good from a technical standpoint. However, it was a bit difficult for me to get really involved in the action because the Lady Hermit and Cui Ping mow down their opponents too quickly. Instead of making the Lady Hermit and Cui Ping seem awesome, it just makes their opponents look terribly incompetent. The heroes really should struggle a bit more when vanquishing their foes.

Of course, I do like the fight at the suspension bridge, simply because it integrates great scenery and action so beautifully.

Checkov’s Bridge: If there is a suspension bridge in an action scene, it will collapse while our protagonist is on it.

Which brings me to the topic of …

The Scenery

I love the scenery in this film!

First of all, it is beautiful scenery, but it’s not just that it’s beautiful – I love the way the characters really seem to live in the scenery.

Leng Yushang at sunset

In some movies, the scenery simply stuns the audience with its beauty. And I like that too. But in this movie, rather than stunning the audience, it naturally blends into the movie as a whole.

Even the bad guys are part of the scenery.

I think this might be partially because it is not isolated from the characters/actors. When filmmakers really want to emphasis the scenery, they place the scenery alone, without the characters.

This was the only scenic shot I found without any humans.

But this film does not do that often, and when it does, it chooses relatively soft scenery which blends smoothly with the preceeding and following shots. Often, the actors are incorporated into the overall visual image presented.

Cui Ping looks isolated and alone amid the trees and mountains.

And I like the trick where characters are often introduced by reflections in the water.

This is the first sign that the Lady Hermit is on the scene!

And it’s also nice that there is variety in the scenic shots: grassy mountains, bamboo forests, temples at night…

You know how I like to compare martial arts flicks to dance musicals…

Doesn’t this screenshot feel a bit Busby Berkeley?

Female-Female Relationship For the Win

Since almost every wuxia story has a variety of female characters, it is not hard to find stories which pass the letter of the Bechdel test. But wuxia stories which depict deep female-female relationships are rare. The only other wuxia story I know about which puts female-female relationships front and center (rather than as an aside to the Much More Important Male-Female Relationships) is The Celestial Zone.

By the way, when I say male-female relationships tend to get more weight than female-female realtionships, I’m not just talking about the romantic relationships. For some reason, more weight gets put on daughter-father and sister-brother relationships than daughter-mother and sister-sister relationships.

The development of the relationship is what sucked me into the movie, as Cui Ping and Leng Yushang slowly reveal themselves to each other. The moment when Leng Yushang finally accepts Cui Ping as her student is sweet indeed.

Of course, the relationship is so compelling because both Leng Yushang and Cui Ping are individually interesting characters. Leng Yushang is collected, experienced, calm, quiet, grounded … and slowly healing old wounds. However, while she’s very discreet, she is not the least bit cold – she’s quite warm, friendly, and open when she is not being the ‘Lady Hermit’ or trying to hide her identity.

Meanwhile Cui Ping is young, energetic, brash, bold, and naive. She has very strong feelings about almost everything, which is what drives her to try to uphold justice, constantly improve her martial arts, and try so hard to find the “Lady Hermit.”

You might notice that these two are a bit like opposites, and I find their relationship compelling in the same way that good ‘opposites attract’ romances are compelling.

I really have to applaud both Cheng Peipei and Shi Szu’s performances, as I feel that their acting is what made the teacher-student relationship between the Leng Yushang and Cui Ping feel so intense.

… But There’s Something Which Irritated Me

And that is Changchun.

Well, not Changchun himself. As a character, he is so empty that there’s not much about him personally which can irritate me. It’s his position in the story which irritates me.

First of all, I don’t understand why the female characters are so attracted to him. There is nothing in the script which explains this, so the only explanation I can think of is that he is physically handsome, in which case they should have cast a better-looking actor.

Now, I do actually like the scenes between Changchun and Leng Yushang, since they seem genuinely tender without being over-the-top. Okay, maybe I can understand why Leng Yushang likes him.

What really irritates me is that a) Cui Ping gets a crush on Changchun and b) when Cui Ping discovers how sweet and tender Changchun and Leng Yushang are, even though she is not in a committed exclusive relationship with Changchun, she decides to break off her relationship with Leng Yushang.

WHAT!

Cui Ping went to great lengths to become Leng Yushang’s disciple, and her actions indicate that Leng Yushang is the most important person in the world to her. It’s understandable that she would be upset to see Leng Yushang and Changchun touching each other lovingly … but to break up with Leng Yushang over a mere crush seems to indicate that the teacher-student bond was not as important to her as the audience was led to believe.

Disclosure Time.

I will admit that, as an aromantic, I am particularly sensistive to this sort of thing (if you do not know much about aromantic people, here’s a primer). I have nothing against romance – I even like well-written fictional romances – but to me, full-blown romance is like sisterhood – very common, frequently interesting, but something I will probably never personally experience. That’s okay, because sibling relationships and romantic relationships are not the only kinds of relationships which can be psychologically fulfilling.

I do not like being told that romantic relationships are so special that it’s only natural that any other relationships – no matter how deep – can be dumped for romance – regardless of how shallow the romance is. If individual people want to only value romantic relationships, that’s their business (though I think they should inform their friends, families, and colleagues that they do not value non-romantic relationships). But to see such a wonderful teacher-student relationship disrupted over such an empty romance is heartbreaking.

Then again, Chang Yushang herself is hurt by Cui Ping’s actions, and it seems that Cui Ping is so upset not because her feelings for Changchun are so deep, but because her feelings for Leng Yushang are do deep.

And this brings us back to culture.

One of the reasons I enjoy Chinese-language fiction as much as I do is that, compared to mainstream English-language fiction, the value of romantic relationships is more balanced with other kinds of relationships. And ultimately, the movie does vindicate me, and show that the relationship between Leng Yushang and Cui Ping is far more important than anything going on with Changchun. In an American movie … I think that vindication would have been less likely.

Even son … sigh … I wish they had chosen a different plot device to acheive the same effect.

Availability in English

This movie is available on Region 3 DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

A beautiful movie about a beautiful relationship between two vivid characters. What more can I say?

This column will go on hiatus for two weeks.

The Dragon Boat Festival is happening on June 12th! Time for Sara to go watch some dragon boat races and eat some rice dumplings. She also finally has an excuse to visit the town of Longtan.

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Duke of Mount Deer (Part 2)

June 4, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

First, a Song!

I’ve never seen any of the TV adaptations of The Duke of Mount Deer, but I do like the opening song of the version starring Tony Leung and Michael Miu.

Hey, I Know That Place!

I have never been to China. While I know where places like ‘Beijing’ are, a lot of the action in these stories takes place in rural areas I’ve never heard of. Likewise, my knowledge of Chinese history is very, very basic, so when certain prominent historical figures pop up I know little, if anything, about them.

But while I’ve never been to China, I have most definitely been in Taiwan (I’m in Taiwan now).

This novel has many references to Taiwanese history and places in Taiwan, and eventually our protagonist even goes to Taiwan.

Furthermore, I read part of the novel in Penghu, which was a stronghold of Shi Lang, one of the characters in the novel. So, while I was reading about the fictional Shi Lang, I was learning about the historical Shi Lang by wandering around his old stomping ground.

This village in Penghu was around when the events of this novel took place.

So, for once, not only did I understand a lot of the historical references being dropped and know quite a few of the places being mentioned, they were mentioning places which I have physically visited and have vivid memories of. For example, at one point Wei Xiaobao thinks about five concubines of King Ningjing. I have visited the temple dedicated to the five concubines, and seen the very wooden rafter where they hung themselves.

I had not expected to see places I’ve been to in my travel around Taiwan to pop up in a Jin Yong novel. It’s exciting to see a bit of one’s life represented in fiction, and it made my reading experience even richer.

The Island

Something that comes up again and again in Jin Yong stories is 2-8 characters going to an island where they live together in isolation from the rest of humanity. Or maybe they go to a remote mountain instead. This is the happiest part of the characters’ lives, and if/when they leave the island/mountain, they suffer.

In other words, happiness is setting up one’s own isolated micro-society, while people living within a huge, hierarchal society are doomed to suffer. There, I’ve just summarized about 5000 pages of fiction.

(this section contains some spoilers for this novel)

But there is one protagonist who is not happy with living on his own island, namely Wei Xiaobao.

He thinks the greatest pleasures in life are watching theatre shows, gambling, and having sex with beautiful women. But on the island, only the ‘sex with beautiful women’ is an option, which is why Wei Xiaobao doesn’t want to be on the island in the first place. He does try to gamble with the beautiful women, but since they are not really into gambling, it’s not much fun. Then some gamblers come to the island, so Wei Xiaobao gets sex with beautiful women and gambling. But he’s still unhappy. Then a theatre troupe comes to the island … no, I’m making that one up, but I bet even if a theatre group had come to the island and performed for Wei Xiaobao every day, he would still be unhappy.

It is then said that Wei Xiaobao can only be happy in a bustling city, such as Yangzhou or Beijing. But I wonder, is that really it? He seems happiest when he’s with his friends. If his friends were on the island with him, would he be so unhappy?

In any case, I find it interesting that Jin Yong subverts his own island/mountain fantasy.

Not a Good Person

Jin Yong has received many complaints from readers about the novel because the protagonist is … not a good person. Jin Yong’s response is that protagonists don’t have to be ‘good’, his novels are not supposed to be morality textbooks, and nobody is completely ‘good’ anyway. He does say to any impressionable people who may read the novel that Wei Xiaobao’s loyalty to his friends is a virtue, but aside from that, his behavior should not be imitated.

I like to pride myself in being someone who wants complex characters with shades of grey and all that … yet Wei Xiaobao also frustrated me. Which makes me realize that I also like to sort characters into ‘good people’ and ‘bad people’, much as I don’t like to admit it.

Wei Xiaobao simply does not fit in the ‘good person/bad person’ dichotomy. He some some horrible things in the story, and never regrets them, let alone apologize for them. He also does some good things at personal cost to himself. At times I would be cheering him on, and then think ‘wait a minute, I’m cheering on the guy who did [horrible thing].’ And then there were times when Wei Xiaobao was suffering, and I would think ‘that’s not fair.’

Many of Wei Xiaobao’s ‘bad’ features are actually him living out fantasies we are not comfortable to admitting we have. For example, he is too lazy to study, and always finds clever workarounds for actual work. Many of use would love to have the benefit of work being done without doing the work ourselves. And while I personally do not have fantasies about having sex with a harem of beautiful women, based on some of the search results I’ve gotten, this seems to be some people’s favorite part of the story.

I have Asagi from Basara on my mind lately (thanks, MJ) and even he fits in the good person / bad person dichotomy. He’s a bad, broken person who becomes a good, healed person. Wei Xiaobao, however, is not broken – in fact, he is the least angst-ridden of all Jin Yong characters. While he does grow up over the course of the story, whether he becomes a ‘better’ person is open to debate.

To a large extent, Wei Xiaobao is just adapting to his environment. He often gets rewarded for lying and cheating, so he lies and he cheats. He grew up around people who treat young women as sex objects instead of as people, so he treats young women as sex objects instead of as people (though he gets a little better about this towards the end of the story). Older women tend to shower affection on him when he flatters and papmers them, so guess what, he flatters and pampers older women. His friends express their gratitude when he tries to help them, so he tries to help his friends. While Wei Xiaobao is individually repsonsible for his actions (especially since it is demonstrated that he CAN resist his social conditioning), to a large extent, his virtues and flaws are reflections of the society he lives in.

What a vexing character.

Wei Xiaobao and His Mother

(this is mildly spoilerific)

For most of the novel, Wei Xiaobao hardly thinks about his mother at all, and he certainly does not wonder how she’s doing. Finally, he returns to Yangzhou and sees her. From her point of view, her young son had disappeared years ago, and no matter how hard she searched for him, she couldn’t even find a clue about his whereabouts. She is understandably extremely upset about his long absence, and makes sures Wei Xiaobao knows it. At the same time, she is overjoyed to know that her son is alive and well. Wei Xiaobao also observes that she is getting older, and that some day she will need somebody to take care of her.

At first, this encounter doesn’t seem to change Wei Xiaobao, but looking back, that was a major turning point in his development. Before their reunion, Wei Xiaobao has a very self-centered lifestyle – everything is about making himself safe, comfortable, and happy. After being separated from her again, Wei Xiaobao actually misses his mother, and worries about how she is doing. And it’s not just his mother – Wei Xiaobao starts considering how his actions affect other people, not to manipulate them, but because he starts to care about their well-being. He realizes that there are people who depend on him. And thus his carefree existence is finished.

This is actually not unlike my own life. I haven’t seen my own mother in years, unless you count the *one* conversation we had over Skype last year, which incidently was the only time I talked to her in all of 2012. She would probably count that, for she said was that it was so wonderful to see her daughter’s face moving and smiling again after having not seen me for so long. Though I don’t think my behavior is nearly as harmful as Wei Xiaobao’s, I am currently living a self-centered life myself. I am only taking care of myself, and though Wei Xiaobao and I do very different things for fun (well, we do have ONE passion in common – live theatre), we are both trying to please ourselves to the greatest extent feasible.

I consider my eventual reunion with my parents to be the end of my carefree existence, for I see that, between my parents and myself, the direction of the caregiving is going to reverse. One reason I value my current self-centered lifestyle is that, by my reckoning, I will never be able to live like this ever again.

Availability in English

This novel has been published in English as The Deer and the Cauldron by John Minford. I haven’t read any of it myself, but this translation gets very, very mixed reviews. Currently, it’s out of print and expensive, so I suggest borrowing it from a library.

There is also an incomplete fan translation by ‘Foxs’. I’ve looked at it, and it’s very literal (on purpose, according to Foxs). It’s not the smoothest reading experience in English, but it’s close to the original Chinese. Some people say that the best way to read The Deer and the Cauldron in English is to read the Minford and the Foxs translations side-by-side.

Conclusion

A lot of people say this is Jin Yong’s best novel, and dammit, they are right, this is Jin Yong’s best novel.

If you can get the Minford translation from a library, or get the novel in a language you understand by some other means, then this novel needs to be on your reading list now (caveat: I am not going to blame people who avoid the novel because of the sexual abuse it depicts).

I am a bit sad to finish this novel. I had held off on reading this for a long time because it is the last Jin Yong novel. Now, I will never read a fresh Jin Yong novel ever again. Re-reads are not the same. That said, this was the right novel to save for last.

Thanks, Jin Yong. It was a great ride.

What does it say about Sara K.’s life that she saw some Beijing opera, learned how to open up encrypted filesystems with a liveCD, and was bitten by wild leeches in the same week?

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Duke of Mount Deer (Part 1)

May 28, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

I’m going with the title “The Duke of Mount Deer” because a) it seems to be the most common title for this story in English and b) I like it more than the other titles for this in English. It’s also known as The Deer and the Cauldron and Royal Tramp. If I had to come up with a title for this story, I would pick What the **** Are You Doing, Wei Xiaobao?, which I think better conveys the spirit of the story than any other title.

The Story

Wei Xiaobao is a teenage brat from Yangzhou who goes on an adventure to Beijing. There, he gets captured, taken in to the Forbidden City, and has to pretend to be a eunuch called “Xiaojiazi” to keep his head attached to his shoulders. He’s instructed to go looking for the “Sutra of Forty-Two Chapters,” and becomes friends with another boy in the palace called Xiaoxuanzi. Why are they friends? Because Xiaoxuanzi likes to beat Wei Xiaobao up.

I’m going to stop there, because I really don’t want to spoil the next twist in the plot. Let’s just say that Wei Xiaobao has an interesting life.

Background

This is Jin Yong’s final novel. If you don’t know or don’t remember who Jin Yong is, you may consult the archives.

The Jin Yong Anti-Hero

The Jin Yong TV Tropes page puts this very succinctly:

Wouldn’t Hit a Girl: Most of his protagonists except for Wei Xiaobao.

The typical Jin Yong protagonist is:

– hardworking / dedicated to improving his martial arts techniques
– is chaste (or at least wants to be chaste)
– feel a sense of Han Chinese nationalism (though some feel it more strongly than others, and their feelings about this are often complicated)
– is willing to die for the people he loves and/or his principles
– actully want to make the world a better place, or at least do the just thing

By contrast, Wei Xiaobao

– is too lazy to become a real martial artist (he won’t practice because it’s boring)
– is way less sexually inhibited than other Jin Yong protagonists
– does not give a shit about Han Chinese national (he doesn’t care whether or not somebody is Han Chinese, nor does he care whether or not the Han Chinese control China)
– is not willing to die for anything, though he is willing to fake his own death
– does not care about making the world a better place

Wei Xiaobao is not just an anti-hero. He’s an anti-Jin-Yong-hero. You really have to read several Jin Yong stories and then read this one really appreciate it.

And quite frankly, it’s refreshing to read about a protagonist who does not have the typical Jin-Yong-protagonist hangups.

That said, Wei Xiaobao is not a complete opposite of other Jin Yong protagonists. Most Jin Yong protagonists are child-like/immature/naive (pretty much the only exception to this is Qiao Feng, though Chen Jialuo is arguably neither child-like nor immature), and Wei Xiaobao is … child-like, immature, and naive. I think that the child-like quality is actually more essential to Jin Yong protagonists than, say, their sexual philosophies. What is at the heart of the stories is a sense of wonder while exploring the world, which is a child-like approach (though mature adults can do it too). To me, this is a key signature of Jin Yong’s style which sets apart his stories from most other wuxia.

Qing Dynasty Curio Box

Much of the imperial collections of the Qing Dynasty court are in Taipei, and a fraction is on display at the National Palace Museum.

This image comes from Qing Dynasty Treasures on Pineterest

The Qing Dynasty court loved curio boxes. First of all, the boxes had creative designs, often to show off the contents in unusual ways, or with secret compartments. The contents could be artifacts from thousands of years ago, weird baubbles imported from Europe, or the fine work of the imperial artisans (and many other things beside – it could be anything that would fit into a box and delight the viewer).

To me, this novel feels like a Qing Dynasty court curio box, which is appropriate, since most of the novel does take place in the Qing dynasty court. There are lots of secrets to be uncovered, and lots of plot twists to delight the reader.

I want to give examples, but every single example would be a spoiler, so instead I am going to make something up – Wei Xiaobao notices that a middle-aged man always appears at a gambling house in Beijing on the 7th day of the month, that this mysterious man is an excellent martial artist, and that this man wants to hide, not find, the “Sutra of 42 Chapters.” Wei Xiaobao eventully finds out that this “man” is actually a woman – specficially Qingqing from The Sword Stained with Royal Blood. After Wei Xiaobao discovers her true identity, Qingqing captures him and takes him all the way to Brunei, where she has a beautiful daughter who decides that Wei Xiaobao is an excellent punching bag.

This doesn’t actually happen in the novel, but it’s like the things which do happen in the novel.

Language

This novel is very playful with it’s language, which I’m sure gives the translators ~~painful headaches~~ a wonderful challenge.

Wei Xiaobao himself is illiterate, and is too lazy to even learn the Cyrillic alphabet (Wei Xiaobao knows some Russian), let alone the Chinese writing sytem.

However, because he needs to pick up imperial etiquette mighty quickly to keep his head attached to his shoulders, he ends up learning this formal imperial language quite well.

What he does not learn, however, is how to speak as an educated person. Or rather, he learns it, but incorrectly. For example, there is a phrase – ‘it’s hard to chase four horses’. Wei Xiaobao always says it as ‘it’s hard to chase a dead horse’ (the Chinese word for ‘four’ sounds like the word for ‘death’), and furthermore often uses the phrase for totally inappropriate situations.

Of course, while Wei Xiaobao cannot use proper formal Chinese, he is a poet of gutter Chinese. This novel is full of foul language, and some of the humor comes from Wei Xiaobao using foul laguange inside the Forbidden City. At one point, Wei Xiaobao says something like ‘[character] is wearing a hat of fine emerald’. People who are familiar with the Chinese language can figure out that this is a very salacious comment. And then, some members of the imperial family pick up some foul language from Wei Xiaobao…

The contrast of the stiff, formal imperial Chinese with gutter Chinese is yet another level of fun in the novel. The prose in this novel may not be as beautiful as in some of Jin Yong’s other novels but, well, beautiful prose would miss the point.

I read this edition.

Sexual Abuse

At one point in the story, Wei Xiaobao overhears some people forcing a girl (probably around 10 years old) to drink something. Wei Xiaobao assumes that the drink is drugged, or at least is alcholic, and that they plan to rape her. He is totally indifferent to this.

We then learn that, where Wei Xiaobao grew up, this happened all of the time, and that all of the adults around him went along with this. In other words, he was taught that raping 10-year-old girls is OK.

This explains at LOT.

The parts of the novel which I enjoyed least were the sections where Wei Xiaobao was persistently sexually harassing people. On the one hand, yes, Wei Xiaobao is a very clever prankster. If he were, say, finding clever ways to pee all over his enemies’ beds (like a certain other Jin Yong protagonist), I would have had a blast.

But while I think pranking is fun, sexual harassment is not fun. I’m not saying this to be politically correct, I mean that, in my guts, sexual harassment feels bad.

So here I was, with long sections of this novel which would have been a lot of fun if Wei Xiaobao’s pranks had not been a form of sexual harassment. It was a drag.

(the rest of this section has spoilers)

Of course, Wei Xiaobao wouldn’t actually rape anybody, would he? He’s so cute and adorable, and most of the beautiful female characters could easily beat him to a pulp.

One of the most common defences of rapists is “but he’s such a charming guy – he can’t be a rapist” (or variations of this defence). Also, when people mention that they are being sexually harassed (for example, female bloggers receiving rape threats from anonymous commenters), they’re often told that there’s no danger, and that they should just ignore it. There’s also this myth that most rapes could be prevented by potential victims being armed, or learning self-defence, when in fact this would only prevent a minority of rapes.

Well, I have to give Jin Yong points for realism. Wei Xiaobao was raised to think that rape is OK, and nobody expelled this notion out of his head. When one of his victims complain about the sexual harassment, other chracters explain it away by saying that Wei Xiaobao doesn’t have any bad intentions, and that she shouldn’t take him too seriously. And the physical capabilities of his targets is irrelevant if he drugs their drinks.

The one thing which I cannot buy is that two of his victims start liking him after Wei Xiaobao rapes them. I’m not going to say this is absolutely impossible, but as a reader, I need a damn good explanation in order to believe this (even in a work of fiction). I do not get any explanation. Therefore, I had to edit my headcanon to keep the story functioning inside my headspace. It is simply not in human nature to start liking your rapist (unless there are a hell of lot of interfering factors at work).

Wei Xiaobao himself is also a victim.

At the very minimum, he’s the victim of non-consensual BDSM. It is also possible that he is a rape victim himself. The novel does not state whether or not he consented to sex with that specific character, but given a) his previous experience of non-consensual BDSM b) the fact that she often uses threats to make Wei Xiaobao do what she wants and c) Wei Xiaobao tries to avoid her precisely because he’s scared that she will cause him physical harm, I have my doubts.

Just because Wei Xiaobao himself is a perpertrator does not mean it is okay to sexually abuse him. Two wrongs do not make a right, especially when it comes to sexual abuse. I admit there were times when I wished someone would kick Wei Xiaobao in the nuts, but even that would only be okay in certain circumstances (such as self-defence).

Does Wei Xiaobao take his feelings of being on the receiving end of sexual abuse, and connect it to the way that he is making his victims feel? Of course not – Wei Xiaobao is terrible at empathy.

I’m Not Done!

Next week, I will continue to discuss this novel. If you can’t wait for the conclusion, it’s “READ THIS NOVEL!”

***

Sara K. is dealing with major technical difficulties right now. If you liked this post, you should thank Sara K.’s father, for if he hadn’t impressed on her that she should always be prepared to run a computer without using a hard drive, there is no way this post would have been finished on time. Right now, she is running the computer off a Class 10 SDHC card, which is thanks to her uncle’s suggestion.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Khóohái Lúsînliông

May 21, 2013 by Sara K. 2 Comments

PUPPETS!

Ever since I started this column, I’ve hoped to eventually feature a Taiwanese puppet show. Well, the time has come.

The Story

This series is a spinoff of a Taiwanese puppet saga known in English as The Scholar Swordsman. It stars one of the main characters of “The Scholar Swordsman,” called Khóohái Lúsînliông.

Khóohái Lúsînliông is being punished.

Khóohái Lúsînliông is a Tartar princess who has become a travelling sword fighter. She prefers drinking alcohol and kicking butt to acting like a princess. Various characters have trouble whether to treat Khóohái Lúsînliông as a friend or enemy.

She is in love with a poet called Sú Gânbûn. However, there’s a fake Sú Gânbûn running around! Where’s the real Sú Gânbûn? At one point, a ‘Sú Gânbûn’ gets rescued by a mysterious horse-rider called Tiònghuakióng. Is Tiònghuakióng the real Sú Gânbûn? Is Tiònghuakióng actually
Tiònghuakióng is caught in a spider web!
Khóohái Lúsînliông in disguise? And why is there a fake Sú Gânbûn?

Anyway, the plot keeps going on an on like this. Every episode ends with a cliffhanger, usually either along the lines of “character X and Y are about to fight, who will win?” or “What is the true identity and motive of Character Z?”

I’ll be honest, and admit that I had trouble following the plot. This is not necessarily the drama’s fault. I must point out that

1) This is in Taiwanese, and my Taiwanese comprehension skills suck.
2) I am not terribly familiar with The Scholar Swordsman, so I seem to be missing out on some background.

About Taiwanese Puppets

Glove puppetry has been extremely popular for as long as Chinese speakers have lived in Taiwan. Live puppetry used to be the most popular way to entertain masses of people.

There are actually many kinds of traditional puppetry in Taiwan, and I’m not qualified to describe them, but they can be broadly divided into the “northern school” and the “southern school.” The “northern school” tended to focus on tales of magic, adventure, good vs. evil, and heroism, whereas the “southern school” focused on tales about family, love, and ordinary people. Guess which school Khóohái Lúsînliông is descended from.

Back in 19th century Taiwan, the “southern school” was considered higher-brow than the “northern school” – scholars could admit to enjoying the southern school, not so much the northern school.

Then something called “television” appeared in Taiwan.

Is that television coming to Taiwan? No, it’s just Khóohái Lúsînliông going somewhere.

Did the puppeteers say “Oh no, television is going to take away all of our audience, we must stop it!!!!”?

Nope. They said “What a great way to reach more people.”

And that’s how the “Golden Light” puppetry style was born.

“Golden Light” first appeared around the 1950s, and is a style which has been adapted to work well both live and on the small screen, with a heavy focus on exciting special effects to dazzle viewers.

And it worked.

Throughout the 1960s, not only were many of the most popular Taiwanese TV shows puppet dramas, many of the top selling music albums were soundtracks from puppet dramas. Live puppet shows also did well.

When I talk to middle-aged Taiwanese people, if I mention puppet shows, their eyes will light up with nostalgia. 40-year-old men will become 10-year-old boys. It’s like talking about popular old Saturday-morning cartoons with Americans.

However, puppet dramas have gradually fallen out of the mainstream, and are now considered something primarily for fans. While puppet dramas used to be broadcast over the air, now they are almost only present on cable (that said, there is an ENTIRE CABLE CHANNEL dedicated just to puppet dramas). When I ask people why puppet dramas aren’t as popular as they used to be, I am told that there is too much media from Hollywood, Japan, Hong Kong, etc., crowding out the puppet dramas.

The sand represents Hollywood/Anime/Hong Kong Cinema/K-Dramas, and the puppet represents, well, Taiwanese puppetry.

Even so, there is a very active puppet fandom in Taiwan. They have conventions. The puppets themselves can become collectors’ items which demand high prices. It is not unusual to see a 7-11 advertisement featuring puppets.

Many traditional events, such as temple festivals, often feature live puppet performances. I remembering seeing one just two blocks away from my apartment. However, while some people look on curiously for a minute or two, I have never seen anybody enraptured by a live puppet performance. It seems to be there as a ritual, not as a form of entertainment.

About this Drama

The Scholar Swordsman is the magnum opus of one of Taiwan’s most celebrated “Golden Light” puppeteers, Toshio Huang, who belongs to the third generation of a noted puppeteering family. The saga has been produced multiple times for TV, and has also been performed many times live. This specific spinoff seems to be a collaboration between Toshio Huang and his son, Huang Liwang.

The themesong, of course is “Khóohái Lúsînliông.” The song had originally been popularized by The Scholar Swordsman, and become a standard of Taiwanese music. I had actually been familiar with the song before I found out that it came from a puppet drama. The Youtube video above features the song.

The Puppetry

One of the things that’s frustrating about writing this post is that stills taken from the show *completely miss the point*.

Though the puppets can move their eyes and mouths, the expressions on their face generally don’t change very much. Therefore, much of the expressive power of the puppets come from how they move. You really do have to see them in action to see just how skilled the puppeteers are in conveying personality, mood, feeling, etc., just by how the puppets move. Still images of the puppets look almost lifeless, whereas the puppets in motion feel like living people.

The show integrates both “real footage” and “puppet footage.” For example, sometimes they use shots of real deserts, forests, etc … and sometimes they have miniature puppet forests, deserts, etc.

It’s a puppet waterfall.

And I never imagined that puppet fighting could be so exciting to watch. The fights are really well done – detailed, easy to follow the flow of the action, variety, etc. And there are a lot of things you can do with puppets which cannot be done (ethically) with live performers. Cutting off their heads, for example. Also setting them on fire.

The fact that they are puppets, in a way, makes it all more magical. It’s very hard to explain. However, I also feel that special effects in live performances feel more special than special effects in Hollywood blockbusters, for that matter, I think special effects in silent cinema feel more special than special effects in Hollywood blockbusters. The fact that the technology is cruder ironically seems to make it more wonderful. The same effect it at work in this puppet drama, at least for me.

Influences

Obviously, this show is heavily influenced by wuxia, in fact, it *is* wuxia. But it’s not just based on wuxia.

Puppets. Seriously.

American culture does not take puppets seriously. Anything involving puppets is assumed to be cute and/or funny. I bet you can count on one hand every work of American puppetry which is neither a comedy nor for kids.

I’m an American too, and so it’s also my reflex not to take puppets seriously, even though I have been an (amateur) puppeteer myself. So while watching this show, there were time when I thought, “Oh, the puppets are travelling through the desert, how cute” or “Prostitute puppets, ha ha ha” (yes, some of the characters in this story are prostitutes).

However, I know that Taiwanese culture does not have this reflex. They take puppets as seriously as they take popular cinema, particularly the older generations. Puppet dramas can be for kids and/or comedic, but they aren’t necessarily so.

Puppetry is considered “masculine,” so much so that a Taiwanese girl/woman who took great interest in puppetry might be considered a tomboy. In the United States, a boy/man who took great interest in puppetry might be considered a sissy. (Sadly, in both Taiwanese and American culture, “masculine” things are taken more seriously than “feminine” things).

Encountering things like Taiwanese puppetry drive home the point that, yes, I am culturally American.

Availability in English

Well, Khóohái Lúsînliông is not available in English.

There is a movie, Legend of the Sacred Stone, which is available on DVD with English subtitles. Weirdly, the movie is in Mandarin – most puppet dramas are in Taiwanese (they also sometimes are performed in Cantonese).

Taiwanese puppetry has also been adapted into the Cartoon Network show Wulin Warriors, which of course is available in English, but I’ve read that the Cartoon Network version is inferior to the original.

She works in a brothel.

Conclusion

Many Taiwanese people take a “the glass is half empty” view of puppetry because they know it’s not as wildly popular as it was a few decades ago.

I take a “the glass is half full” view because, even today, puppetry is way more popular in Taiwan than it ever has been in the United States.

What I take away from this drama is not the story, which, while somewhat entertaining, did not make much an impression on me. What I take away from it is the sheer creativity which goes into golden light glove puppetry as a medium. It feels new and fresh to me, and the special effects probably inspired a greater sense of wonder in me than the special effects of all the Hollywood movies I’ve seen in the last seven years combined.

Next Time: ~~What the **** Are You Doing, Wei Xiaobao?~~ The Duke of Mount Deer (novel).

One time, Sara K. was assigned the task of making bird puppets. She thought it would be really boring if they were perched, so she wanted to make it look like they were flying. It wasn’t enough for the wings to be outstretched – she wanted the wings to move as if they were flying. She found it was amazingly difficult to get information about how birds move in flight, and ended up reading a book Bird Flight about the science of how birds fly because she couldn’t find any other source. Who would have thought that taking a theatre class would lead to doing detailed research in physics and ornithology?

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Wushe Incident

May 14, 2013 by Sara K. 3 Comments

Practically everybody in Taiwan knows about Seediq Bale, the most expensive Taiwanese movie ever made. During my entire time in Taiwan, not a single other movie, Taiwanese or not, has made as much of a stir as that one. What few people know is that it was adapted from a manhua, The Wushe Incident (台灣第一部霧社事件歷史漫畫), which is gratefully back in print thanks to the success of the movie.

The Story

Deep in the central mountains of Taiwan, 1930, the Japanese relentlessly inflict suffering on the Seediq people. Many young Seediq men are anxious to strike back at the Japanese, but their leader, Mona Rudao, stops them, and always placates the Japanese whenever a young Seediq man loses his temper. Of course, Mona Rudao himself hates the Japanese, as they killed his father, ruined his sister’s life, and continue to exploit his people. However, Mona Rudao has also travelled to Japan, and personally witnessed just how powerful the Japanese military is, so he dares not provoke the Japanese … before there is a good opportunity.

Background

If I had to sum up Taiwan in two words, those two words would be “mountain island.” Those two words alone explain a great deal about Taiwanese culture, history, politics, geography, agriculture, economy, weather, etc.

For example, Taiwan is difficult to conquer/unify because it’s a mountain island. That’s why the indigenous peoples speak over 20 different languages – travel was so difficult that most people would never went far from their birthplace.

During my various trips to Taiwan’s mountains, when I didn’t have to deal with road closures, landslides, fog so thick that the driver can’t see more than a meter or two ahead, buses that got cancelled because the road collapsed, etc., I was lucky. To read about the condition of what until recently was one of Taiwan’s most important mountain roads, click here. Right now, I reckon at least half of the major mountain roads in Taiwan are closed or have major obstruction, and there hasn’t even been a typhoon recently. This is why Taiwan has been politically united for less than a hundred years.

I took this photo near Wushe, where the story takes place.

Astonishingly, some of the “Japanese” mountain trails are still intact. I’ve been on a couple sections of the former Japanese Hehuanshan trail, which is one of the trails used by the Japanese to send reinforcements to Wushe. Along the trail there are the remains of Japanese police stations, schools to teach the indigenous children how to be more Japanese, and the graves of Japanese police/soldiers who died along the trail (most of them were killed by Mother Nature). Here is a description of an epic Japanese mountain trail running through Taiwan.

The manhua starts with a set of detailed color drawings showing various scenes of Seediq life.

The creator of the manhua, Qiu Ruolong, got stranded in Wushe (which is near Wuling pass, Taiwan’s highest mountain pass which is car-accessible – though I personally wouldn’t want to drive through it) when his vehicle broke down. While he was stuck in Wushe, he stayed with the local Seediq people, who gradually shared their history with him. This is how he first learned of the Wushe incident, and it fascinated him so much that he did more and more research – for example, he spent six months sewing traditional Seediq clothing. Eventually, he made this manhua.

The Wushe incident is historically significant as the last act of armed resistance to Japanese rule in Taiwan.

The Artwork

I love it.

First of all, Qiu Ruolong manages to capture a bit of the majesty of Taiwan’s high mountains. Just flipping through the pages brings up memories of my trips to the mountains.

It’s not just that he draws spectacular scenery – he populates it with the characters, making both the people and the scenery look solemn and magnificent.

Sometimes, I just have stop and let my eyes rest on a page for a while.

I love that halo of light around Mona Ludao as he walks through the dark forest, as the diagonal rays of sunlight frame him from above.

Which brings me to another point – Qiu Ruolong is great a compostion.

Take this page, for example. Here, Qiu Ruolong explains the way the Japanese treated Seediq women. These two pages can be split into about four parts – in the top-right, we see the Seediq women in their native village before any Japanese men bother them, in the bottom-right, we see the Seediq woman marrying the Japanese man and adopting a Japanese hairstyle (she does not look overjoyed), in the top-left we see the Japanese husband beating her, and in the bottom-left we see the Seediq woman weeping, isolated in the midst of Japanese architecture. Notice that the last section is the biggest, and the image of the weeping woman is the single biggest thing on these two pages. That makes that the center of this scene, and all of the other, smaller drawings are supports which explain the existence of this central image.

In the picture below, notice how all of the Seediq warriors with their backs facing the reader circle around Mona Rudao, whose front faces the reader.

And in this picture (below), notice how the simple image of the stare, surrounding by black, contrasts with the detailed drawings around it.

Qiu Rulong is a master of drawing violence. The way the Seediq warriors chop off Japanese heads is both silent and chilling.

However, possibly the best part of the artwork is he really brings the Seediq people (and to a lesser extent the Japanese people) to life. This is partially because the drawings are so detailed, but it’s mainly because he puts a human in every figure.

This is How You Make a Historical Graphic Novel

One of my biggest criticisms of In the Fires of 2/28 is that it didn’t focus on any specific characters, so it didn’t make the historical events feel personal. Qiu Ruolong does not make this mistake. While he often goes into digressions about Seediq life, historical background, etc., he centers the story around Mona Rudao and his family. Watching their personal journeys makes the story that much more powerful.

That said, I would have liked to have seen a bit more about the Seediq characters who adopted a Japanese lifestyle. The graphic novel shows just enough about them to intrigue me.

Exploited Resource vs. Sovereign Agent

While the Japanese did various bad things to the Seediq people, all of the awful behavior stems from a single root – the Japanese regarded the Seediq people as a resource to be exploited, not as agents with which one should establish mutually beneficial relationships. Some people would phrase this as “the Japanese did not see the Seediq as fully human.” which would be accurate … but I’d like to emphasize that the Japanese had the exact same attitude towards the Seediq people as they did to the other “resources” in the mountains. For example, the Japanese saw the mountain forests as a way to make money quickly (that was one of the main reasons the Japanese wanted to control the mountains), rather than as an ecosystem to steward and preserve.

The Seediq people knew that the Japanese were treating them as objects, not as agents. They could feel it. The Japanese were constantly rubbing it in. And passively accepting it was destroying their psyche.

The graphic novel does an excellent job of getting the readers to understand why the Seediq act as they do. First, the manhua patiently describes humiliation and humiliation suffered by the Seediq at the hands of the Japanese, making the reader angry. The worst is when the Seediq have to bow their heads and plead for forgiveness from the Japanese, even when it was the Japanese whose behavior was wrong. It’s like a rubber band slowly being stretched until it … snaps.

The Seediq knew that they were not strong enough to drive out the Japanese and restore their independence. But they felt they had to attack anyway. They had to prove to the Japanese, and to themselves, that they have some agency, and that they could not be oppressed without consequences. Suicidal action which proved they still had some power was better than powerlessly submitting to the Japanese.

Availability in English

This manhua is totally unavailable in English. And that’s a shame. This is a downright excellent graphic novel, and it’s only about 300 pages long – would somebody please publish it in English?

Conclusion

This manhua definitely exceeded my expectations. It brings out so many feelings … from relatively benign nostalgia of my trips to the mountains, to the horror of the humiliation and violence, to passionate desire of the Seediq people to assert power over their lives.

Though the Seediq did not drive out the Japanese, they did shatter the Japanese perception that they were just passive objects to be used however the Japanese pleased. And today, the Japanese are long gone, while the Seediq are still there.

This manhua would not have been possible, or at least not as good, without Qiu Ruolong’s passion for the subject. I know the film Seediq Bale has been criticized for historical and cultural inaccuracies, and I cannot judge to what extent this manhua is or is not accurate. Accurate or not, it is clearly something that Qiu Ruolong cares about deeply.

Next Time: Khóohái Lúsînliông (TV show)

Sara K. has had far more fantasies about living in the mountains that living by the beach. She is upholding the San Francisco tradition of disliking beaches (the beaches in San Francisco are at best unpleasant, and at worst life-threateningly dangerous). She is no doubt also influenced by her family – her father, who was born and raised in southern Florida, also has a distaste for beaches, as does her mother, who grew up on the coast of the Mediterranean. That said, it is still good for her to go to beach instead of the mountain once in a while. Heck, last week she went *swimming* for the first time in over five years.

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