It Came From the Sinosphere

It Came from the Sinosphere: Hear Me

May 10, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

The Story

Tiankuo, who works for his parents’ eatery, delivers some lunch boxes to a training session for a deaf swimming team. There, he meets a pretty young woman called Yangyang. Yangyang is there for her sister, Xiaopeng, who hopes to participate in the Deaflympics (note: the Deaflympics 2009 happened in Taipei, the same year the film came out). Tiankuo happens to be proficient in Taiwanese Sign Language (henceforth referred to as TSL for brevity), so he can chat with Yangyang … but will their relationship go in the direction that Tiankuo hopes for?

Some Background

This was the most popular Taiwanese film of 2009. That same year, the Deaflympics happened in Taipei.

Ivy Chen, who plays Yangyang, also starred in Black and White, and Michelle Chen, who plays Xiaopeng, starred in You Are the Apple of My Eye.

TSL is the dominant sign language in Taiwan, and is closely related to Japanese Sign Language and Korean Sign Language (this is because the Japanese established formal Deaf education in Taiwan). TSL has also been influenced by Chinese Sign Language.

I have encountered a lot more users of sign language in Taiwan than I did in the United States. I can think of three explanations for this:

1) Sheer coincidence
2) Deafness may be more prevalent in Taiwan
3) Deaf people may be more integrated into general Taiwanese society

I don’t know which of the above explanations is correct.

Why Didn’t They Cast a Deaf Actress?

I really think they should have cast a deaf actress in this film. Okay, maybe, just maybe, there aren’t any pretty young deaf women in Taiwan with good acting skills … but I would have preferred casting a deaf actress from Korea or Japan over casting a hearing Taiwanese actress to play a deaf Taiwanese woman (actually, Xiaopeng doesn’t even have to be played by a pretty actress, but I’ll give the producers a pass on that one). And don’t tell me there isn’t a single competent pretty young deaf actress in Taiwan/South Korea/Japan combined – the population is too big for there not to be one.

Now, I myself know almost nothing about TSL, so I can’t tell whether the actors worked so hard that in the film they pass for natives in TSL, whether they actually are natives in TSL, or whether people fluent in TSL find the actors’ TSL laughably bad. If the actors did not master TSL well enough to pass for native (well, I suppose Eddie Peng doesn’t need to pass as native since his character, Tiankuo, isn’t native in TSL), then that’s simply disrespectful to deaf people. But even if they do pass for native in the film, I think that casting a hearing actress to play Xiaopeng was wrong.

Why?

Fairness.

I bet that there there are deaf women in East Asia who love acting. This was a rare chance for one to get cast in a major East Asian film … and that chance was handed to a hearing actress who has a lot of other opportunities.

In the United States – and I suspect this is true in Taiwan too – deaf people are much poorer than their hearing counterparts, and one reason for this is employment discrimination. Casting a hearing actress to play a deaf woman is employment discrimination.

A Quiet Film

I’m not referring to the lack of spoken dialogue – though of course much of the dialogue is in TSL – but to the lack of melodrama in the film.

Nice boy meets nice girl, boy is nice to girl, girl is nice to her sister. Nice boy of course does get worked up and nervous about how nice girl feels about him, and nice boy and nice girl even get into a petty conflict at one point in the film, but it’s pretty mellow.

The most melodramatic event is when there is a fire which causes Xiaopeng to lose consciousness, go to the hospital, and messes up her breathing, which affects her swimming ability.

And that brings me to another point – the most intense relationship in the film is not the relationship between Tiankuo and Yangyang, but between Yangyang and Xiaopeng.

Tiankuo is insecure because he doesn’t really know Yangyang that well, and it’s implied that he has little experience with romance. Yangyang and Xiaopeng, however, have spent their lives as sisters, and the love and bitterness in their relationship comes from knowing each other too well.

But while intense, it’s a quiet thing.

Or maybe it seems quiet to me because of the sign language after all. After all, now that I’m trying to describe the events of the film, they seem more dramatic than I remembered. Since I don’t know TSL, I had to read the subtitles, which meant I was not paying the fullest attention to the actors’ bodies, and I didn’t hear any voices supplying aural emotional cues.

Then again, it could be the acting. The acting does not seem as vivid and animated as the work I’ve seen by American Deaf actors when using ASL. That might be because the actors in this film aren’t native in TSL … or maybe Taiwanese deaf culture does not encourage emotional expressiveness as American Deaf culture..

But whatever it is which makes the film seem ‘quiet’ to me, I like the quietness. Maybe I simply read/watch too many operas of various sorts (soap operas, sword operas, etc.) but letting the character feel as they feel rather than milking the pathos feels very genuine to me right now.

And of course, I love the sense of play throughout the film, such as when we discover what Yangyang’s job is.

Respect

There are two words in Mandarin, kàndeqǐ (respect / think well of) and kànbuqǐ (not have respect for / look down on), which are so useful that I find it frustrating that English does not have any direct equivalent for these words.

The current running under this film is that many people kànbuqǐ deaf people, a fact that Yangyang, Tiankuo, and especially Xiaopeng is very sensitive to. They are always concerned about people whether or not others will kànbuqǐ them. For example, Tiankuo is worried about his parents accepting Yangyang.

[Spoiler warning for this paragraph] The core of Xiaopeng’s resentment for her sister Yangyang is that she suspects, deep down, Yangyang, who is actually a hearing person, kànbuqǐs her. When Yangyang insists that she respects Xiaopeng, Xiaopeng responds that she wants to be independent, she doesn’t want Yangyang to constantly sacrifice herself to care for her ‘pitiful’ deaf sister. And finally, if Yangyang really has respect for deaf people, why won’t she go out and become Tiankuo’s girlfriend (at the time, they both thought Tiankuo was deaf).

I am not deaf, but I understand how Xiaopeng feels.

As a non-Asian, the default assumption is that I can’t understand written or spoken Chinese. I can’t blame Taiwanese people for assuming this, since most of them don’t encounter enough foreigners to figure out that foreigners who live outside of Taipei/Kaohsiung probably know some Chinese. Even I have had to train myself, when I see another non-Asian, to not immediately assume that they need language help.

However, even after I have demonstrated my degree of Chinese ability, some people still continue to act like I don’t understand Chinese, or that I don’t know what I’m doing, even in situations when it turns out I was better informed than most of the other people present. They sometimes make things harder for me, and I would have been better off if they had completely ignored me, but usually, it just feels like they kànbuqǐ me. Getting away from this is one of the things I look forward to on that future day when I leave Taiwan.

And what I’m describing is extremely minor compared to what Xiaopeng faces. I am merely irritated by various strangers. Xiaopeng is dealing with her own sister. Most importantly, my Chinese ability is not as deep into the core of my identity as being deaf is for many deaf people. Therefore, the cut goes in that much deeper.

And the irony is that Yangyang gets into a quarrel with Tiankuo when she assumes that he kànbuqǐs her.

For some people, the cute love story between Tiankuo and Yangyang may be the main point of the film. But to me, the relationship between Xiaopeng and Yangyang is what stands out.

Alas, the film undermines its own point by failing to cast a deaf actress. If the film-makers really believed that deaf people are competent, capable people, wouldn’t they have cast one to play a deaf character?

Availability in English

This movie is available on DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

I have mixed feelings about this film. I would love to learn something about Taiwanese deaf culture – heck, I’d like to learn more about American Deaf culture (I would like to learn some ASL if I ever get a good opportunity to do so). And it’s clear that there was some input from the deaf community, since many of the ideas presented in the film are similar to ideas expressed by deaf people. It’s also a good movie from an entertainment point of view. But ultimately … it’s a film made by hearing people, about hearing people, and for hearing people.

I obviously don’t have a problem with movies made by, about, and for hearing people, since that describes about 100% of the movies I watch. But most movies are not supposed to represent deaf people. This movie could have been a great cultural bridge between deaf and hearing people, but to me, it feels like a lop-sided conversation with the hearing people mostly talking to each other while occasionally bothering to listen to what the deaf people say.

That includes me by the way – I did not find any opinion of the movie by any Taiwanese deaf person (if you know of one online, in Chinese or English, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE share the link), so this entire post has zero input from the Taiwanese deaf community. And I feel bad about not getting any input from Taiwanese deaf people in the writing of this post, since that means I’m doing the exact thing that I am criticizing this movie for doing – not having more deaf people directly involved.

Next Time: TBD (though I know it will be a manhua)

To learn what some people with various different disabilities think, last week was Blogging Against Disablism Day, which in previous years has included contributions from Taiwanese people (though not, IIRC, deaf Taiwanese people). On a completely different note, Sara visited the fort depicted in Cheerful Wind, which is related to why this post is so late. She met a Korean who was travelling all over the Penghu Archipelago by public ferry. She wishes she had enough spare time to do that, because she suspects that would be more fun than island-hopping by tour boat.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Datang Shuanglong Zhuan

April 30, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

The best English translation of the title I recall encountering is Tang Dynasty Dragon Duo, but it just sounds better is Chinese, which is why many people use the Chinese title even when discussing the book in English.

The Story

The story is set at the end of the Sui dynasty, which is on the verge of collapse. Everybody sees this as an opportunity to grab power.

Xu Ziling

Enter two orphans living on the street, Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling. They only have their wits and each other. They just happen to get the precious martial arts manual Changsheng Jue, which makes them targets. They are rescued by Fu Junzhuo, a martial artist from Koguryo (Korea), and they accept her as their mother … then she dies.

Kou Zhong

Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling study the Changsheng Jue, and become martial artists themselves – but more dangerous than their martial arts are their cleverness and capacity for strategic thinking. Xu Ziling ambition is to merely get revenge for their mother (Fu Junzhuo), take care of their sister Susu, and have fun wandering around. Kou Zhong, on the other hand, wants to … how can I say it in English … “take over the world”?

And therein lies conflict. Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling, closer than brothers, are the most important people to each other in the world. Xu Ziling wants to do what’s right for the common people of China, and deep down, he suspects that Kou Zhong’s ambitions are not in the common people’s best interests. In the medium term, they are united by their desire to get revenge for Fu Junzhuo and care for Susu. Yet Kou Zhong does not want to give up his dream of demonstrating his might to the world, Xu Ziling does not want to let Kou Zhong cause suffering to the common people, and neither wants to destroy their relationship. In the long run … something has to give.

Background

This is Huang Yi’s longest and most popular novel, in fact, it’s probably the most popular wuxia novel of the 1990s. Right around the time that wuxia was ‘dying’, Huang Yi’s fiction appeared, and became very popular in Hong Kong and Taiwan. For an interesting take on Huang Yi, go to the Science Fiction Encyclopedia.

Datang Shuanglong Zhuan has been adapted into two TV shows, Twin of Brothers (2004/Cantonese) and Twin of Brothers (2011/Mandarin), and there are more planned. There is also a manhua adaptation by Tony Wong.

This novel is so popular that, when I mention that I’ve read it to Taiwanese men, the most common reaction is ‘oh, that’s a good book, I’ve read it too’. The fact that almost every general bookstore in Taiwan has a copy on hand speaks literally volumes – (the Taiwanese revised edition contains twenty volumes, which takes quite a bit of shelf space).

Female Characters

First, look at the illustrations of the Dramatis Personae throughout this post. Do you notice a pattern?

I do. The female characters are all showing off skin and/or their figures, in other words, there is an emphasis on their sex appeal. None of the male characters are showing off their skin or figures, so while they are not unattractive, they are not primarily being shown as sex objects.

I find it particularly implausible that Li Xiuning, who as a princess has to follow lots of rules about social propriety, would ever been found in a pose like this (except maybe in the private company of her husband)

To some extent, this reflects how the novel depicts the characters. Female characters are frequently noted for their beauty, so much so that I sometimes had trouble distinguishing Super-Beautiful-Woman 1 from Super-Beautiful-Woman 2. Meanwhile, there is little to no comment on male beauty. Yes, I know this is typical in wuxia, but this novel takes it further than most.

That said, women aren’t just considered romance/sex objects. Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling want to get revenge for their mother because she cared for them, not because of her romance/sex appeal. Then their is their sister, Susu, who they value simply for being herself (and she is one of the few young women who is not described as being super-beautiful).

The female characters, of course, to the greatest extent they can, are active agents, organizing attacks and manipulating the situation to further their own goals … but that goes without saying. While wuxia fiction has plenty of sexism, at least it’s taken for granted that female characters will set their own agendas, and do what they can to make their agendas happen, and that if they have tools, they can do a lot. The same is, alas, not a given in English-language speculative fiction.

Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling’s Relationship

90% of what kept me flipping the pages is the relationship between Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling, in other words, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

In particular, watching Kou Zhong was fascinating. He wishes he were light Light Yagami in Death Note so he could pursue his ambitions without his feelings getting in the way … but unfortunately (fortunately?) for him, he’s got a big, squishy, sentimental heart.

To Kou Zhong’s credit, when he falls in love, instead of trying to kill his feelings, he makes himself vulnerable and makes a sincere effort to be a good lover. That’s why it’s so heartbreaking when he fails, and concludes that he must redouble his efforts to take over China since he cannot find any other meaning in his life.

For much of the novel, I thought it was a bit like Death Note, but with casting Light Yagami and L as brothers who are closer to each other than anyone else in the world. Both stories focus a lot on tactics and strategies for outsmarting one another (though Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling usually work together, not against each other). Towards the end, though, I realized that this story is actually more in the spirit of Basara than Death Note. Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling have a brotherly, not romantic, relationship, and they know each others’ identities, but their fundamental struggle is similar to Sarasa and Shuri’s.

It is a beautiful, deep relationship, and though Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling make friends, lovers, and even gain a mother and sister, it’s clear that nothing can replace the experience of relying on each other for survival as children in the street when everybody else ignored or abused them. That’s why the possibility of the relationship being shattered is so … dramatic.

One of the most moving parts of the story is when Kou Zhong says something to Xu Ziling. I don’t remember what Kou Zhong literally says, but I remember how Xu Ziling understands what Kou Zhong means: Kou Zhong’s love for Xu Ziling is so deep that, even if Xu Ziling betrays him, Kou Zhong would still love him.

The Length of the Novel

After I told someone how long this novel he, he replied ‘it’s like War and Peace‘. I replied ‘No, it’s not like War and Peace. War and Peace is less than 2000 pages long. The Taiwanese revised edition of Datang Shuanglong Zhuan is about 7000 pages long.’

Yes, this is the longest novel I have ever read.

I don’t think I could have marathoned it. Instead, I would read a few hundred pages, then read something else, then pick this up again and read another few hundred pages. I did, however, marathon the last 1500 pages or so.

Most readers know that a story which is only 7 pages long feels very different from a story which is 70 pages long. While they may have the same plot structure, a 70 page story can pack in a lot more detail and nuance. Furthermore, a 700 page story feels very different from a 70 page story.

Now, I can say, that the difference between a 700 and 7000 page story is just as great at between a 70 and 700 page story. I am not even sure the label ‘novel’ still applies to a 7000 page story. There is simply much more richness, depth, and subtlety possible with those extra pages.

As such, I feel like I’m misrepresenting this novel. Even though I’m focusing on Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling, who are the core of the novel, I still feel that I’m oversimplifying them because they evolve so much and show so many different facets of themselves during the course of the story.

And this feels woefully incomplete without saying more about the complex web of relationships that Kou Zhong and Xu Ziling are in (they sure don’t live in a vacuum). For example, I’ve managed to get this far in this post without mentioning Li Shimin, one of the most important characters.

Li Shimin

However … the whole point of writing something 7000 pages long is that the story does not lend itself to brevity.

This work feels very different from anything else I’ve read, and I think I’d either need to read another super-long novel, or read a series of novels with the same characters which was as long as a super-long novel, to have this kind of experience again.

My Take on the Ending (spoiler-free version)

First of all, it was not the ending I expected. Okay, even I know enough about Chinese history that I knew who was going to end up emperor of China, but otherwise … not what I was expecting.

And I was disappointed.

After reflecting on it, it’s not the ending itself which disappointed me. It actually could have been a great ending. What let me down was the execution of the ending. And that’s about as much as I can say without spoilers.

Availability in English

The novel: ha Ha ha hA HA HA HA Ha ha ha HA!

The TV shows: The 2004 TV show is available on region-free DVD with English subtitles (for sale at YesAsia.com). The 2011 TV show, as far as I know, is not available anywhere with English subtitles. I haven’t seen either show, so I cannot comment on the quality.

The manhua: As far as I know, it’s also completely unavailable in English..

Conclusion

Well, though the ending was a let-down for me, this novel was still worth it for the journey. I’d like to read another super-long novel some day, though finding the time to do so is a challenge…

For me, at least, this was a novel about how to set one’s priorities for life. Do you just try to have fun? Do you try to make the world a better place? Should you dream big? Who should be the important people in your life, and how important should they be? Should you abandon your ambition for the sake of personal relationships, and just how much wrong would the important people in your life have to commit before you would turn your back on them?

The novel makes the point that, if you have to ruin your relationships with the people closest to you to make your grand dream come true, your dream will become a nightmare.

Next Time: Hear Me (movie)

Last week, Sara K. hiked up Syueshan Main Peak, which is the second highest mountain in East Asia (aside from the Kamchatka peninsula).

It Came from the Sinosphere: Yanyu Mengmeng (TV Drama) Part 2

April 23, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Pouring Sugar on Stakes Thrust through the Heart, or TV Drama vs. Novel

The plot between the novel and this TV adaptation is mostly the same, aside from the addition of new characters (the Li family, Keyun, Du Fei, Ji Yao), and expanded roles for Erhao, Mengping, and Fangyu.

However, the feeling is significantly different. The TV drama does a lot of sugar-coating. For example…

[HUGE SPOILER WARNING + TRIGGER WARNING FOR SEXUAL VIOLENCE / SUICIDE, skip to “End Trigger/Spoiler Warning” if you want to avoid spoilers and/or triggers]

In the novel, Mengping is gang-raped and gets pregnant. When she can’t identify the father, her father stop treating her as his daughter, or even as a human being. After a back-alley abortion gone wrong, Mengping spends most of the novel in the hospital, out of sight. By the time she gets out of the hospital, her mother is in prison, her father and sister are dead, her younger brother is in an orphanage, and she has to live with her older brother, who is penniless.

She is also gang-raped, emotionally discarded by her father, and gets injured in an abortion in the TV Drama. But in the TV drama, her loving sister cares for her after the rape, and her boyfriend agrees to marry her even after he knows what happened. Furthermore, her boyfriend tracks down the rapist and personally punishes them, with some help from Mengping’s father, who starts treating her as his daughter again once a man (her boyfriend) agreed to marry her. Mengping and her boyfriend (later, husband) live happily ever after.

Then there is Ruping.

Mengping and Ruping

In the TV drama, Ruping commits suicide. After the suicide, all of the characters are heartbroken, blame each other for her suicide, blame themselves, and pour out all of the love they felt for Ruping but didn’t express properly while she was alive.

In the novel, when Ruping commits suicide, the characters either a) hardly notice or b) are upset because her death inconveniences them. None of the characters are depicted being sincerely sad that she is dead (well, maybe He Shuhuan is sincerely sad … to some extent).

In the TV drama, Ruping is mistaken to think that nobody loves and cares about her. In the novel … she is mostly correct.

[END TRIGGER/SPOILER WARNING]

Though the plot is mostly the same, these little differences add up to a very different message. In the novel, the message is “What goes around, comes around.” Since what goes around is pain and abuse, what comes around is not pretty. By contrast, the message in the TV drama is that, deep down, everybody loves each other, they just don’t know it, and that love can get you through everything. That is a VERY different message.

Why Was the Message Changed

So … why does the TV Drama sugar-coat the story?

I have some ideas.

First, the novel was written in the 1960s. Many people in Taiwan, including most of the characters and Chiung Yao herself, had been in China during the Chinese Civil War, and were still recovering from the aftermath. The rest of the population had experienced WWII under Japanese rule and the 2/28 Incident, which was also very traumatic. The novel was also published during the height of the “White Terror,” when Taiwan’s authoritarian government practised strict censorship and imprisoned anybody who was inconvenient to the people in power.

By contrast, the 1980s was a much more forgiving era. The economy was booming and standards of living had risen. Taiwan was already moving towards democracy, and in 1987, just a year after this drama aired, martial law was lifted. things didn’t seem so bad.

Then there is Chiung Yao’s own personal circumstances. At the time she wrote the novel, she was a young mother, and had either just ended her first marriage or was about to end it (I couldn’t find a timeline to double-check the order of events), but in any case, ending a marriage while caring for a young child is stressful. She relied on the money she made by writing to make ends meet, so if she had stopped writing, or if her writing hadn’t sold well, she would have been in trouble.

By contrast, in the 1980s, she was financially secure and independent, had well-established and extremely successful writing career, and had been happily married to her second husband for years. Chiung Yao herself says that she couldn’t have written the novels she wrote as a young woman at a later age because she had stopped experiencing such sharp, forceful feelings.

It’s entirely possible that a TV drama faithful to the spirit of the novel would not have been allowed to air in the 1980s. I think that Taiwanese TV nowadays wouldn’t produce a TV show with even the 80s drama adaptation’s level of emotional harshness. Audiences would not receive it well.

In fact, based on the reviews I’ve read, the 2000 adaptation of Yanyu Mengmeng is even sappier than the 80s version.

Why I Hate This Story

For starters, I hate most of the characters … Yiping, Ruping, He Shuhuan, Lu Zhenhua, Xueqin, etc. In the novel, just about the only significant characters I didn’t hate were Fu Wenpei (Yiping’s mother) and Fang Yu. I don’t hate any of the new characters (Keyun, Du Fei, etc.) who were added to the story in the TV adaptation.

Yiping has ulterior motives for going out with Erjie.

Okay, I did feel more sympathetic to Yiping in the TV drama, so I suppose I don’t hate TV!Yiping, but that’s mainly because I felt everybody else was treating her unfairly. Everybody was telling her that she should set aside her hatred for the Lu family, that she was their daughter, and that she should learn to love them. I, on the other hand, felt that not only was Yiping entitled to resent the Lu Family, but I was advising her to cut off contact with them as soon as feasible. Her father abused and neglected her for more than ten years, and her siblings either contributed to the abuse/neglect, or refused to offer any help to Yiping … and never ONCE in the entire drama do they apologize to Yiping and admit to her that they were wrong (his father quasi-apologizes to her mother). If any reconciliation is to happen, I think the Lu family (particularly his father) is responsible for the first move, and before there is a clear and sincere apology, nobody should tell Yiping to let go of her bad feelings about the family.

That’s not to say that I approve of Yiping’s actions – on the contrary, I advised her (in my head) to forget revenge so she can get the Lu family as much out of her life as possible. I also advised her to dump He Shuhuan, particularly considering how inclined he is to use physical force to control her in the drama (at least in the novel he’s not physically abusive). Yiping needs a sassy gay-friend, not a self-centered borderline-abusive boyfriend like He Shuhuan (I personally think Yiping was doing Ruping a favor when she ‘stole’ He Shuhuan, but I know Ruping disagrees with me).

When Yiping wants to get away from Shuhuan, he grabs her, carries her as she’s kicking and screaming, and pins her to a fence. What a charming boyfriend.

And how could I hate Ruping? Mainly because she seems very passive-aggressive to me. She repeatedly claims that she loves Yiping like a sister but … well, it never translates into her actions. When Yiping needs help, Ruping does nothing (and I don’t buy that Ruping doesn’t have enough courage, because she certainly has enough courage when her other siblings get in trouble). And when Yiping is going through some really terrible things, Ruping is caught up in her own selfish concerns. Yiping, at least, is honest about the fact that she is not looking out for Ruping, and even tells Ruping so.

Ruping needs a cool-old-lady friend.

What’s worse, Yiping, Shuhuan, and Ruping are all bookworms. To Yiping, novels are like water, and reading is one of her main mechanisms for getting through the day. Shuhuan has a large library. Yiping loves 19th century European novels – Tolstoy, Bronte sisters, etc., while Shuhuan enjoys contemporary foreign literature. Ruping is a fan of popular Chinese-language literature, particularly romance and wuxia (I find it intriguing that she is an wuxia fan, considering that she’s a total doormat who wouldn’t hurt a fly). I also identify as a bookworm, and I suspect most people who read the novel are bookworms to some extent, so this makes the characters more like the readers.

In Shuhuan’s library.

And that brings me to the crux of why I hate the story – I can see myself in the characters, and it’s an awful part of myself. My family is much more functional than the Lu family – but even I know something about the resentment which builds up between family members, and how it can drive people (myself included) to do terrible things. You could say that I am Yiping’s daughter (my mother as a young woman had some things in common with Yiping). In the TV show, and especially in the novel, I could feel that a) what the characters were doing was wrong and b) understand why they were doing it because, under similar circumstances, I would have the same impulses.

I hate being shown that I can be an awful person.

I seriously considered not watching the TV drama because I hate the novel that much.

My Reaction to the Drama

This is hands down the most addictive TV drama I’ve seen in Chinese, and one of the most addictive things I’ve watched in my life. Even though I already knew the story, I simply had to keep going. As soon as one train-wreck has happened, it’s possible to see the next train coming to pile on the damage.

In some ways, the TV drama is much better written than the novel – many supporting characters are much more fully realized, and the suspenseful elements are more deftly crafted.

And the tears. Oh the tears. In my mind, I’ve re-titled the drama “River of Tears” because of the effect it had on me.

But towards the end of the TV drama, I stopped engaging with it because it started to seem a little false to me. The story wants to go to awful places, but somebody puts on the brakes, assuring the audience, ‘no, it’s not really that awful’.

The ending of novel feels profoundly sad because it feels true. The more optimistic ending of the TV drama does not feel true to me.

Availability in English

Currently, this is not available in English, and since it’s a Taiwanese drama from the 1980s, I am not going to hold my breath. Still, if any Taiwanese drama from the 1980s has a chance of being licensed by a streaming service with English subtitles, it’s this one, or another one of the 80s Chiung Yao dramas.

Conclusion

Nowadays, before I pick up a Chiung Yao novel, I have to ask myself whether I am ready to tear out my heart and put it through the washing machine for cycle. I’ve read that Yanyu Mengmeng is the rawest of them all, but based on some of the summaries I’ve seen, I suspect some of Chiung Yao’s other novels might wrench me even more. She is a genius of pressing emotional buttons.

For a heart-warming Chiung Yao story, read Princess Pearl. Otherwise, beware!

Next Time: Datang Shuanglong Zhuan (novel)

Why is it that Sara K. only found out that the Takarazuka Revue was coming to Taiwan AFTER the tour was over????? Now she’ll actually have to go to Japan to see them perform live. Oh well, if she ever has the chance to see them in Japan, it will probably be better than seeing them in Taiwan.

It Came From the Sinosphere: Burning Moon

April 9, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

It’s about time I said something about Selina Lin, one of Taiwan’s most popular female manhua artists. Though she’s sometimes called the “queen” of girl-oriented Taiwanese manhua, all of her works are quite short. Burning Moon, her longest work, is only five volumes long.

The Story

The emperor’s concubine wants to maintain her status by bearing a son. The problem is that she bore a girl, so she wants to swap her newborn daughter with her sister’s newborn son, Duan Chengfeng. To prevent him from getting kidnapped, Duan Chengfeng’s mother poisons him. His father intervenes, but to fend off future kidnapping attempts, Duan Chengfeng has to live as a sick child.

Duan Chengfeng gets pretty tired of this, so as a boy he sneaks out to experience a bit of freedom. That’s how he meets a girl called Yue Shuchan. Realizing that their son doesn’t want to live the rest of his life with his freedom confined, his parents decide to drop the illness ruse and arrange a marriage for him…

Background

All of the explicitly girly manhua I’ve covered so far came from Star Girls magazine. That’s because it’s the only magazine dedicated exclusively to girly manhua put out by a major publisher. However, there is also Mon-mon magazine (the name in Mandarin is “mèngmèng,” and “mèng” means “dream”). Most of the comics which run in Mon-mon magazine are shojo manga translated from Japanese, but they also publish original material from local artists, of whom the most popular is Selina Lin.

The latest issue of Mon-mon.

Selina Lin’s work has been translated into quite a few languages, but the only two works that I could find which have been officially published in English are:

1) White Night Melody (the first volume was published by Tokyopop, and I suspect this will never be license-rescued)
2) Manga Tarot, which technically is a card deck, not a comic book.

This was originally supposed to be only three volumes long, but readers felt that the original ending was too tragic, so Selina Lin wrote two more volumes set in the present day, featuring the reincarnations of the original characters, and made a happy ending.

The Art

I do not like the art style of shoujo manga currently coming out of Japan, unless it’s retro, and that’s one of the reasons my interest in current shoujo is … limited. What I love is a) Showa 24 group artwork and b) late 80s-90s shoujo artwork.

Selina Lin’s art is very much like current shoujo styles in Japan … but somehow, she gets me to actually like it.

Take this picture for example. Though it features the “cute” glass-eyed look which I dislike, it’s got lots of nice round curves, with nice crisp folds in the dress and dark ribbons to add some visual structure. I can dig this.

And even when it’s being “cutesy,” it also manages to have a bit of a crystal quality a well—the pearl-like roundness, the crisp patterns—which neutralizes my usual distaste for this style.

Of course, in a storytelling medium, it’s not enough for art to look nice; it also has to tell a story. Is the artwork a little too busy? Perhaps. However, I think it does a good job of letting the characters express themselves, such as in the following picture:

I can feel the warm, light-hearted joy.

Now, speaking of the storytelling…

Underdeveloped Storytelling

One of the reasons I’ve waited so long to discuss Selina Lin is, well, I think her stories are boring. I was hoping that, as her longest work, this might be better, but …. well, it’s not much better.

It’s not that the ideas are bad. For example, Duan Chengfeng could have been a really, really interesting character—someone who is forced to pretend to be ill for his own safety as he itches for adventure can be the basis of a really engaging story. However, this potential was wasted. The manhua covers too much plot in too few pages, so there’s no room to explore the inherent conflict in Duan Chengfeng’s situation. As soon as the love triangles come into the story, Duan Chengfeng’s problem with having to feign illness get dropped, which makes it seem like it wasn’t important in the first place.

And the romance … I actually do believe that love at first sight can happen (or at least, that people can fall in love with each other at lightning speed). But even when the bond is established instantly, it still has to grow and evolve. In all of the romantic relationships in this story, I felt there was no growth. Instead, the storyteller just said, “Okay, these people are in love with each other,” and didn’t offer much more. That makes the whole romance angle of the story feel empty to me.

Normally, I would have been stubborn and read all five volumes. However, considering my previous disappointments with Selina Lin, I did not feel inclined to read beyond Volume 3. After reading a plot summary of Volumes 4-5, I feel even less inclined to finish the series.

I don’t know much about how Mon-mon magazine works, so perhaps there are editorial constraints which make Selina Lin limit most of her manhua to three volumes. But even if the length of her work is being limited by her editors, she should tell a story which fits a three-volume length, instead of telling a story with much plot and little substance.

Availability in English

Well, it’s never been licensed in English… and to be honest, I don’t think it should be.

Conclusion

Selina Lin makes me like an art-style which usually turns me off, which is an accomplishment. That said, I dearly wish her storytelling was as good as her drawings. Her stories aren’t even bad, they’re just poorly executed.

I don’t get why she’s so popular. Sure, the art is nice, but her manhua simply bores me.

Maybe she should team up with somebody who is a much better storyteller.

Next Time: Love in the Rain / Yanyu Mengmeng (TV drama), which most certainly is NOT boring

Since her last post at Manga Bookshelf, Sara K. has soaked in one of the only three mud hot springs in the world, visited a bat cave, walked a trail with a 60 degree gradient (downhill, thank goodness), seen fireflies for the first time in her life, had her blood sucked by wild leeches, seen trees that are over 2000 years old, visited the “forgetting sorrow” bamboo grove, saw a wild male Swinhoe’s pheasant, went to Taiwan’s highest automobile-accessible mountain pass, dealt with her computer going haywire, bought her first new computer in over two years, went hiking above 3000 meters with someone who grew up in Soviet Russia and someone from South Africa, learned how to play Perudo, ate a wonderful meal of mountain vegetables she had never knew existed at a restaurant over 2700 meters above sea level, saw a bunch of beautiful waterfalls and forested hills, saw the beginning of the Matsu Pilgrimage (with over a million participants, it’s one of Asia’s biggest religious pilgrimages), and much more. It was way, way, WAY more interesting than this manhua.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Ashes of Time

March 26, 2013 by Sara K. 2 Comments

This movie is a critics’ darling and a box office flop. It often gets placed on lists of “Best Chinese-Language Movies”—for example, this movie is ranked at #35 in the Hong Kong Film Awards list of 100 Best Chinese Movies (this is a bit like the AFI 100 list).

This movie is also plain weird.

The Story

Ouyang Feng contracts sword fighters and martial artists to carry out paid assassinations. His best friend is Huang Yaoshi. Someone called Murong Yang wants Ouyang Feng to kill Huang Yaoshi for jilting his sister. Then Murong Yin (the sister) comes to ask Ouyang Feng to kill Murong Yang (her brother) for getting between her and Huang Yaoshi, and … *sigh* … I quit this synopsis.

I don’t want to spoil anything, and even if I did write a comprehensible plot summary (which would be spoilerful), it would completely miss the point. Just know that this takes place in a desert, there are love polygons, and that the men, at least, are all skilled fighters.

More Background

This is a film by Wong Kar-wai, one of Hong Kong’s most recognized film directors. He’s the only Chinese-language director who has won an award at the Cannes Film Festival. He’s famous for making movies with lots of lush visual imagery that explores personal relationships and memories, which describes this specific film to a T.

This film also features many of Hong Kong’s top stars of the era.

This movie is supposedly a prequel to Jin Yong’s Condor Trilogy. Indeed most of the main characters (Ouyang Feng, Huang Yaoshi, and Hong Qi) are also significant characters in the trilogy, and a few of the plot points in this movie (specifically Ouyang Feng’s relationship with his brother’s wife) are also mentioned in Jin Yong’s work. But this movie is so different, that I would describe it as fanfiction loosely inspired by the Condor Trilogy rather than an actual prequel (though being a work of fanfiction doesn’t mean that it has any less merit).

It took a lot of time to shoot this movie, which caused it to go over-budget. To try to get some more cash, the makers of this movie spent about a week putting together a spoof of the The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, which ironically made more money than Ashes of Time itself.

In 2005, Wong Kar-wai put together Ashes of Time Redux. I haven’t seen it (I saw the original film), but I’ve read that the story is easier to understand in the “redux” version.

The Cinematography

I generally don’t talk much about cinematography or editing, since I know close to nothing about such things. However, even someone like me who has never taken a film class in her life can tell that this movie has great imagery. This movie also makes creative use of moving light/show, such as in scenes where light shines through a twirling wicker cage, which causes the light to shine in moving lines across the actors’ faces.

Wicker cage shadows!

Another example is this scene with a woman on horseback, in which the light reflected off the water makes the woman’s face look almost white (the whiteness of her face is starkly contrasted with her otherwise dark surroundings).

The woman on horseback with light reflecting off the water (this is really hard to convey in a single screenshot)

Reflections in the water is actually a theme in this movie.

And the desert is … very scenic. I won’t say “beautiful,” since that’s not the intention, but it certainly has visual impact.

I’m sure somebody who actually knows something about cinematography could make more insightful comments.

Position in Wuxia

This is obviously a wuxia film, and it’s the kind of wuxia film which defies what many non-Asians imagine wuxia is. Though there are a few furious fights, they are also furiously brief, therefore I can’t enjoy this film in the same way I would enjoy a Lau Kar-leung film for the exciting kung-fu choreography. It’s also not a tearjerking melodramatic romance. This, in a way, makes it the opposite of a Jin Yong story, since Jin Yong stories tend to be very high in technically-detailed fighting and melodramatic romance (soap operas with swords!)

This is a quietly-meditative kind of wuxia story, which uses the psychologically heightened setting of wandering fighters to look at personal relationships (I’ve seen this before in novels, though not in a movie—in fact, I’m impressed it works at all in a film format). The relationships aren’t there to make drama; the drama is there to reveal the relationships.

The Pacing

If you haven’t guessed it already, this is a slow movie, and it’s not until the end that the various bits and pieces of the story cohere into something that feels complete.

Being familiar with The Eagle-Shooting Heroes makes it a little easier to understand what is going on, but not much easier. I understand why this bombed at the box office.

On the other hand, I did not find the film boring at any point. Aside from the eye-catching imagery, the individual moments were usually pretty interesting, even though it was sometimes hard to understand what was connecting the various moments together.

And the fact that this film feels so disjointed actually helps make its point. It’s a film about memory and personal reflection, and when we think back on our own memories, we generally think of them in sets of particular vivid moments, rather than a linear narrative.

Personal Relationships and Regret

This movie is basically about how we let our personal relationships deteriorate, how we fail to value the most meaningful things in life, and how we mourn for that loss when it’s too late. The most positive reviews I’ve seen of this movie came from people who watched it after a breakup, and a few people recommend watching it alone (then again, some people recommend watching it in a theater if possible to fully experience the cinematography).

The current state of my life is not such that I can fully appreciate this film. It does not speak to what are currently my deepest personal issues. Therefore, I feel that I haven’t felt the full impact of this film. Perhaps I should revisit this film again when my life is different.

However, the film still has some relevance to my current life. I have spent most of my life in San Francisco, and prior to moving to Taiwan, I had spent all of my life living in northern California (aside from brief trips to other places). Modern technology makes it much easier to maintain the relationships which are most important to me … but not being in the Bay Area has meant that relationships which are not so close, but still valuable, have gradually withered away.

During my first year in Taiwan, I didn’t think at all about returning to the United States since I was still dazzled by the novelty of being on a different continent, but now I often think about returning, and of all the things I should do to re-establish myself before it’s too late (the United States as a whole, and my neighborhood specifically, has changed since I left, and if I wait too long, I will only be able to return as a stranger). The fact that I think so much about returning also affects my relationships here in Taiwan—I’m afraid to go deeper into relationships, lest they break when I leave. Heh, maybe this film is a preview of how I’ll feel after I return to the United States, in which case, it’s a bit scary.

Availability in English

This movie is readily available with English subtitles, and they don’t suck. Since this movie is in Cantonese, I actually used a combination of Chinese and English subtitles to watch it, so I was able to compare the two. While I’m certain the Chinese subtitles are closer to what is being said in Cantonese, most of the departures in the English subtitles make the English feel more natural, and a more literal translation would feel much stiffer.

Non-Conclusion

I think I need to see the film again before I have a conclusion. And seeing the film again right now wouldn’t count—I need to wait at least six months before seeing the film again. I might conclude that this film is really deep, or I might conclude that it’s bullshit dressed up with impressive cinematography. Perhaps I’ll watch the redux version next time.

Next time: Burning Moon (manhua)

Sara K. finally went to Sun Moon Lake. She had been warned that she shouldn’t get her expectations too high, but she thinks Sun Moon Lake is gorgeous, and that Nantou County is fantastic. She suspects the people who find Sun Moon Lake disappointing/boring either have a different temperament from her, were doing/seeing the wrong things, or simply had super-high expectations (Sara’s learned to never have super-high expectations during travel).

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Nine Provinces

March 19, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

The Story

In ancient China, Asule is the son of the leader of a powerful northern tribe. As a child, he was sent to another tribe for rearing, then his father’s tribe came along a few years later and wiped out the tribe. Asule regarded a number of the people from that tribe as family, so to say that he is distressed is an understatement.

Asule has been designated as the heir of the tribe, even though he has older brothers, and his body is frail and weak. He’s afraid that his brothers will kill him one day, and he’s frustrated that, with his weak body, he can’t protect the people he loves.

He eventually learns that he has inherited the “green-copper blood.” If he rouses it, it grants him great physical strength, but at the cost of his ability to reason. His grandfather wants to rouse the “green-copper blood” in him to carry on the family legacy, whereas Asule’s father wants Asule to live a nice, happy life. It turns out that Asule’s father had imprisoned his grandfather because his grandfather had killed his own daughter, Asule’s aunt (it’s hinted that his grandfather killed his aunt because of the “green-copper blood”).

Though there’s a lot more about Asule’s family, but I think it’s enough to say that becoming merely dysfunctional would be an improvement.

Eventually, Asule is sent to Donglu, where he takes the name “Lü Guichen.” In Donglu, he makes two good friends, Jieye and Yuran, and interesting things are happening in Donglu…

Background

This is a novel by Jiangnan, one of China’s most popular active wuxia writers, published in traditional Chinese characters by Kadokawa.

Wait a minute … isn’t Kadokawa a Japanese publisher? Why are they publishing an wuxia novel from mainland China in Taiwan and Hong Kong?

I would like to know the answer to that. I’m sure they hope to make a profit, but I’d like to know more a bit more about their reasoning. Most of what Kadokawa publishes in Taiwan are Japanese manga and novels translated into Chinese—for example, they publish the Taiwanese edition of A Bride’s Story. Recently, I learned that they have branched into publishing original Taiwanese light novels, but as far as I know, this is the only wuxia novel as well as the only novel from China that they have published (if you know of others, please comment).

Actually, maybe I shouldn’t call this a wuxia novel. Though this novel tends to get labeled as ‘wuxia’ by bookstores, marketers, etc., and Jiangnan is considered a “wuxia” writer, Jiangnan himself says that this novel is a “betrayal”—not fantasy, not historical, not romance, and not wuxia (emphasis mine).

Jiangnan is from Anhui province, and earned a Ph.D. at Washington University. He started reading a lot about ancient Chinese history, in particular, he wanted to understand the motivations of various historical figures. It was he was trying to get into the heads of ancient Chinese strongmen that he got the inspiration which eventually led this this novel.

Speaking of history…

The History (or My Ignorance and Confusion)

As I’ve said before, I actually do not know that much about Chinese history, and that is especially true of ancient Chinese history. “The Nine Provinces” is a reference to China in the Xia and Shang dynasties. However, I couldn’t find any information about most of the geographical locations mentioned in the novel. Does that mean they are fictional, or am I so ignorant that I am looking at the wrong references? Also, I couldn’t find any information about the emperor mentioned, which makes me thing he almost certainly is fictional.

My guess is that Asule’s homeland is not in “China” since, well, “Asule” is not exactly a Chinese name. I reckon that “Donglu” is China since, after moving to Donglu, Asule takes the name “Lü Guichen,” which does sound like a Chinese name, and more significantly, he felt a need to take a “Chinese” name.

In case you don’t know, in Chinese-speaking societies, everybody who is somebody is expected to have a Chinese name, regardless of ethnicity. In Taiwan, there are some legal/business things which are impossible to carry out without a Chinese name. Though I do not have a formal Chinese name, I get asked fairly often what it is, and I eventually made one up for myself. In Chinese-speaking culture, people are supposed to change their name to fit whatever cultural context they are operating in, which includes ethnic Chinese operating outside of Chinese-speaking culture. That’s why many ethnic Chinese have “English” names like “Betty,” “Harold,” “Robin,” and so forth—to them, that is the way that different cultures should interact. That, more than the name “Lü Guichen” itself, makes “Donglu” feel like China to me.

In short, I think that Jiangnan is making up his own alternate ancient Chinese history, but I am so ignorant of Chinese history that I don’t know how much is based on actual history, and how much is based on his imagination. Maybe writing a historical novel based on his own re-imagined history is what he means when he says that this novel is a “betrayal.”

My Own Reaction

The first time I read the first volume, it didn’t engage me. I didn’t get what the big fuss was about Jiangnan. I think the problem is that it was so different from anything else I’ve read that I didn’t know where to sink in my teeth.

On the other hand, I kept it around, and eventually, I figured it was worth a second chance.

The second time, I got hooked.

It’s fascinating partially because Asule’s personal circumstances are amazingly messed up (basic rule of fiction = the more hurt the characters are, the more the audience cares), it’s fascinating partially because of the contrast of Asule’s sensitivity and perceptiveness with his “uselessness,” and it’s fascinating because Jiangnan creates a world which feels truly fresh and original (though it sure is not a world I would want to live in).

I think it makes a difference that Jiangnan’s starting point was nonfiction rather than fiction. Even though he apparently tossed out most of the facts to pursue his own ideas, his ideas come from his thoughts on ancient Chinese history, not the tropes of any particular fictional genre (though I have nothing against recycling tropes, particularly tropes I like). Reality, being stranger fiction, in some ways is more creative.

Availability in English

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

However, the mere fact that contemporary wuxia from mainland China is getting published outside of China at all is intriguing. I certainly do not expect this to get translated into English in the near future (or ever), but I wonder … would Kadokawa consider publishing this into Japanese?

Conclusion

If all wuxia novels were the same, even if they were all just like my favorites, I would be thoroughly bored of wuxia by now. However, just when I think I have a rough idea of the parameters of wuxia, surprise surprise, I find a story which falls outside of those parameters. The main reason I keep on trying different wuxia novels and writers is not because I want to relive the wonderful experiences I’ve had with certain books—re-reading those books would be much more efficient—but because discovering the range of the genre is exciting.

Granted, Jiangnan claims this is not actually an wuxia novel, but I think it’s fair to say it at least belongs to the wuxia tradition (hey, if you’re betraying tradition, you still have a relationship with it). And this novel is certainly quite different from any other wuxia novel I’ve read, or for that matter, any other novel I’ve read.

This novel is not complete, at least not in traditional Chinese characters, so I don’t know how it concludes. But I certainly intend to read future volumes.

Next Time: Ashes of Time (movie)

Sara K. actually ended up ordering volume two of The Nine Provinces online. She finds the Taiwanese system of buying books online a lot more convenient that the system in the United States (she can get the books the next day AND free shipping AND she can pay with cash, no credit card necessary). Though this is partially because Taiwan is a densely populated island, she still can’t help but feel a bit disappointed in the services offered by online booksellers in the United States.

It Came from the Sinosphere: My Lucky Star, Part 2

March 12, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Welcome back. You can find Part 1 here, and here is the opening song again (yes, I do like the song).

Background on the Actors

For an idol drama, this drama has remarkably few idols. It rose to popularity mainly on the strength of the story. The only actor who really qualifies as an idol is Jimmy Lin, who plays Zhong Tianqi. This role was pretty made for him, for in addition to being an actor, he is a real-life professional car racer. However, his most famous role as a actor was not in an idol drama, but in wuxia (specifically, he played Duan Yu in the 2003 version of Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils).

Jimmy Lin as Duan Yu, Prince of Dali.

Arguably, Leon Jay Williams (who plays Zhong Tianjun) is also a quasi-idol, since he is a professional model, and quite easy on the eyes, even compared to most idol drama stars.

Interestingly, they cast a Korean actress, Yoo Ha-na, to play Xia Zhixing, which occasionally happens in Taiwanese television. It seems that her lines were dubbed, and I’m not sure who the dub artist (which I think is a pity, since the dub artist deserves as much credit as Yoo Ha-na). While I think their acting is okay, I think there are a number of Taiwanese actresses who could have played the role even better (I would have cast Barbie Hsu). There is a scene where Zhong Tianqi overhears some very soap-opera-ish dialogue, and Xia Zhixing claims “Oh, it’s just a K-drama.” I found that line doubly funny because the very character claiming that it was just a K-drama was being played by a Korean actress.

Location Location Location!

This drama features Ruifang, Wulai, and Pingxi, three of the top tourist attractions in the Taipei region.

However, rather than setting the story in Ruifang/Wulai/Pingxi, the story combines all three of them into the fictional village of “Mingde,” which is Xia Zhixing’s hometown. As someone who is familiar with Ruifang, Wulai, and Pingxi, this is a bit confusing, since sometimes the characters are in Ruifang one moment, and then they are in Pingxi the next moment.

However, I don’t think the drama shows the *really* beautiful parts of Pingxi, such as this spot, which just happens to be one of my favorite spots in all of Taiwan

Actually, Ruifang, Wulai, and Pingxi are more than just tourist attractions: they are important symbols of Taiwanese culture. Pingxi is often held up as being an idyllic Taiwanese rural town, which is why is it often featured in commercials, movies, etc (part of You Are the Apple of My Eye is set in Jingtong, which is in the Pingxi district). Wulai is the location of northern Taiwan’s highest waterfall.

The town of Wulai (I am resisting the urge to share even more photos of Wulai).

However, Ruifang in particular has an important place in Taiwanese culture. The towns of Jiufen, Jinguashi, and Shuinandong are all in the Ruifang district. Jiufen was once so prominent as a cultural center that it was called “little Shanghai.” As I’ve mentioned before, Jiufen and Jinguashi are the location of Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s A City of Sadness, which not only a famous Taiwanese film, it’s often ranked as one of the best Chinese-language movies ever made. Furthermore, Jiufen inspired Hayao Miyazaki to make Spirited Away, which is why the town is almost always full of Japanese tourists.

My own photo of the Thirteen Levels

The “Thirteen Levels,” one of Taiwan’s most recognizable landmarks, is in Shuinandong, and it appears in this drama (it also appears in Fated to Love You). One of my favorite works of art in the Tapei Fine Arts Museum permanent collection depicts the Thirteen Levels, and it’s featured in many films, both professional and amateur. I have never been inside the Thirteen Levels since it’s technically forbidden to enter, but I know someone who has been inside, and he said that he saw other people inside too, so apparently a lot of people ignore the restrictions.

In other words, watching this drama is a bit like taking a tour of the most popular destinations in rural Taipei.

Okay, I can’t help it, here’s a picture I took in Shuinandong looking up at Chahushan, which is in Jinguashi (if you’re confused, just know that this is all in the Ruifang district).

Fashion

I mostly find the costuming choices in Taiwanese idol dramas uninteresting, but this drama is definitely the exception, which is what you would expect from a drama which deals a lot with jewelry. And the guys’ clothes are just as interesting as the girls’ clothes.

See Zhong Tianqi and Xia Zhixing together. They’re clothes are not boring. I think Zhong Tianqi’s checkered collar is a particularly nice touch.

See Xia Zhixing and Han Zhiyin together. Again, their clothes are not boring.

Xia Zhixing and Han Zhiyin together, again. You can’t tell from this picture, but this outfit makes Xia Zhixing look a little pregnant. I actually like that, since it emphasizes her motherly qualities.

The Silliness and the Sadness

Whereas Fated to Love You has tongue-in-cheek humor, this drama is straight-up silly. In fact, part of the appeal for me is seeing just how far the drama will go. Just as protagonists are fearlessly themselves, this drama is fearless in is silliness.

Xia Zhixing and Zhong Tianqi are sitting on a toilet, and it looks like they are having sex, even though they are actually not.

Zhong Tianqi and Xia Zhixing get into awkward positions.

(Tangent: in a world free of rape culture, I would think it is totally funny that certain things the characters happen to be doing seem to be sexual assault, even though that is not the character’s intent at all, just I would think it’s funny if the characters seemed to be murdering somebody when actually it’s just an innocent mistake. But victims of sexual assault are so often disbelieved and told that the assault was “just a misunderstanding,” in fact, I can tell you from personal experience that victims sometimes tell themselves that it’s just a misunderstanding so that they don’t have to face that they are victims of harassment/assault, that I’m not completely comfortable with laughing when it’s revealed what certain characters *reasonably* suspect is sexual assault really turns out to be a misunderstanding).

Some of it gets pretty corny, but that, weirdly, is part of the charm.

It’s also full of melodrama (this fan music video, featuring the theme song, offers a good taste of the melodrama). Many of the plot twists are awfully cliché, but, well, it’s boldly cliché. And considering that a five-year-old girl gets Xia Zhixing to spend 8 hours publicly handcuffed to the hot and handsome Han Zhiyin, I am willing to overlook a couple cliches.

And I think this drama just might have the saddest moment of any idol drama I’ve watched. Specifically, the scene where Ou Yaruo listens to the MP3 player.

Why is listening to the contents of an MP3 player sad? Part of me wants to explain the context, but I do hope that this drama will eventually get licensed in English, so I don’t want to spoil it.

Someone on Youtube claims that (spoiler warning, especially if you understand Mandarin) this is the most moving scene in My Lucky Star, but I found it too cliché. Okay, I’ll be honest, I got totally emotionally invested in that scene too, but at least I’m embarrassed that such cliché melodrama got to me.

However, the moment which really got my tears flowing was when Xia Zhixing falls down on the road between Jinguashi and Shuinandong (even though I know this is supposed to the fictional village Mingde, I still can’t help but think of these places as being Ruifang/Pingxi/Wulai). There is nothing original at all about this scene, but the story is so bold, and so sincere, in its melodrama, that I really could not help myself. Even if I forget everything else in this drama, I don’t think I’ll ever forget this particular moment.

Availability in English

Currently, there is no legal way to watch this drama in English. It would be really nice if someone changed this state of affairs.

Conclusion

When I first started watching idol dramas, I stuck with idol dramas adapted from Japanese manga, since the stories were familiar to me, and I didn’t have enough confidence in my Mandarin comprehension skills to delve into completely new territory (and how is it that I have yet to discuss a single idol drama adapted from manga?)

This is the first idol drama I watched which a) was not adapted from a manga and b) had a plot that was totally unknown to me. I was not just concerned about my language skills, I was also concerned about whether or not it would be a good story (if I had read the manga, at least I could reasonably predict whether or not I would like the drama). Not only was I totally capable of understanding this drama, I fell in love with it.

It definitely has its flaws, and overall, I have to say that Fated to Love You is a higher-quality production. Nonetheless, this is one of my top favorite idol dramas, and when I say that somebody should license this in English, I’m serious.

Next time: The Nine Provinces (novel)

An earthquake is happening right now as Sara K. is writing this. Many Taiwanese people expect Sara K. to be freaked out at every single earthquake. Sara K. then points out that she grew up in San Francisco. She does feel a lot less earthquakes in Taoyuan than in other parts of Taiwan (such as Taipei and Hualien), most likely because Taoyuan has more stable ground than Taipei, and the faults around Hualien are more active.

It Came from the Sinosphere: My Lucky Star, Part 1

March 5, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Jewel thieves! Car racing! Beautiful scenery! Melodrama! Silly sexual humor! This drama has a lot going for it. Let’s set the mood with a song:

Now, a scene from the first episode.

Example Scene

Ou Yaruo is getting married today. Or at least that’s what she thinks.

When the door opens, she assumes that it’s her fiance.

Actually, it’s her ex-boyfriend.

Clearly, this is not good news.

Ou Yaruo tells him to get out.

He does not get out.

In fact, he gets closer to her. She apparently broke his heart when she dumped him.

He’s very interested in her necklace.

The sneak tabloid photographer has arrived on the scene…

… and he’s just in time to take a picture of them kissing.

After the kiss, he leaves, leaving her wondering what the meaning of this encounter was. Does she still love him? Did he come to take back the jewel of her heart?

Then she realizes, no, he did not come to steal the jewel of her heart. He just wanted to steal the big jewel in her necklace, which he has slipped off her neck while kissing her.

The Heroine

From all of the Taiwanese idol dramas I’ve seen, I think Xia Zhixing is my favorite female protagonist. She’s one of the most honest and compassionate characters in the entire drama – which is ironic, considering she’s a con artist dating another con artist.

Well, Zhong Tianqi catches her in the act, and she gets sent to prison for two years. Not only does she spend two years in prison, but when she gets out, she discovers that she’s lost her con artist boyfriend.

But wait! She catches Zhong Tianqi stealing a jewel too! He got her sent to prison while he’s a thief himself. No fair!

So why did Xia Zhixing become a con artist in the first place? It’s revealed that she’s an orphan, and she grew up in poverty. Being a con artist was the only way she was able to find out of her poverty, and after leaving prison, she finds herself back in financial distress. The fact that she now has a criminal record makes it hard for her to make an honest living which, ironically, is the only thing pushing her back into a career of crime.

Because of her own difficult experiences, Xia Zhixing has a lot of empathy for other people in unfortunate circumstances, especially people who ended up in them through no fault of their own. At one point, she makes a HUGE sacrifice for the sake of an innocent child she barely knows.

When she’s not trying to pull off a con, she is not afraid to be herself, even when this might make people uncomfortable. For example, she does not try to hide her criminal past to anybody that she cares about.

Many of her cons revolved around selling fake jewels. During this “job,” she learned a lot about jewelry, and developed an interest in jewelry design. Is this the path to an honest living, or will her past hold her back? Or will she put others’ needs before her own?

The Guys

Much as I love Xia Zhixing, this drama is make even better by a good set of male protagonists.

Guy #1: Zhong Tianqi

He is the black sheep of his rich family. He’s handsome, he speaks French, and he races cars. Most of all, he’s fearless, whether that means defying his father, standing up for what he feels is right, or car racing while blindfolded.

I am not kidding about the blindfolded car race.

He also takes things very, very deeply to heart. That means that, when somebody is important to him, he will dedicate himself to that person 100%. On the other hand, when he feels betrayed, he gets very, VERY nasty (see the above scene where he ruins his ex-girlfriend’s wedding).

It’s a common trope in Taiwanese idol dramas for Guy #1 to turn into a jerk at some point, and in my opinion Zhong Tianqi does this better than any other Guy #1. First of all, it’s clear that he becomes a jerk because of intense personal suffering, but most of all, I like that he’s a colorful jerk. He is the standard to which I hold up all other Guy #1 jerks. If the male protagonist must turn into a jerk, he at least should be as much fun as Zhong Tianqi.

Oh, and he’s also a prince.

Guy #2: Zhong Tianjun

Zhong Tianjun is Zhong Tianqi’s older brother. He is one of the sweetest male characters I have encountered in a Taiwanese drama, He’s patient, forgiving, understanding. He protects people from sexual harassment. And he tries very very hard to be romantic. Oh, and he’s handsome and wealthy.

He’s the perfect romantic hero. In fact, he’s too perfect. That is why there is Guy 2.5.

Guy #2.5: Han Zhiyin

Han Zhiyin is hot celebrity from Thailand who is, ah, flirtatious and promiscuous. However, he finds himself having deeper feelings for her than he’s felt for anyone else. And while he’s a hotshot model, he grew up in the slums of Bangkok, so he can relate to Xia Zhixing’s background in a way that Zhong Tianqi and Zhong Tianjun cannot.

He also does things with as much, if not more, flair than Zhong Tianqi. Then again, as a celebrity, it’s his job to do things with flair.

The Bechdel test highlights the lack of deep female-female relationships in fiction, but in Taiwanese idol dramas, there is also a dearth of male-male relationships too. However, the relationship with the Zhong brothers is quite touching and interesting in its own right, and the relationship between Zhong Tianqi and Han Zhiyin is also quite fun.

Not that female-female relationships are completely neglected. Though Xia Zhixing and Ou Yaruo most certainly are not friends, I actually think their relationship is one of the most intriguing in the entire story.

Ou Yaruo

Ou Yaruo is a jewelry designer who works for the company owned by the Zhong family. She loves her job, she’s a rising designer, and she is Zhong Tianqi’s first love. Seems like she has exactly the kind of life Xia Zhixing wants, doesn’t it?

Well, on the surface that’s the case. But Ou Yaruo has a terrible secret.

Her past is possibly even sadder than Xia Zhixing. Xia Zhixing is an orphan who grew up in poverty, but at least she was cared for by a loving uncle. Instead, Ou Yaruo wishes that she had been an orphan, and least then she would not have been traumatized by her abusive father, who currently is in prison.

She is terrified by the thought that somebody will find out the truth about her family, and that if the truth comes out, she’ll lose career and that the people who love her will hate her. In fact, she is literally willing to kill to protect this secret.

The people close to Xia Zhixing, on the other hand, know that she was a con artist, and that she has a prison record, so she has no dark secret which may cost her livelihood and the love of the people around here.

Ou Yaruo has the career Xia Zhixing wants, and possibly the heart of the man Xia Zhixing is in love with. But Xia Zhixing has the integrity, bravery, and emotional security that Ou Yaruo wishes she had.

But Wait, There’s More…

You have probably figured out by now that this is one of my favorite idol dramas, which meant this post was getting a bit too long. I hope this post has piqued your interest enough to bring you back next week, when I will talk about this drama some more.

Sara K. saw swarms of purple butterflies in Maolin last week. Some of those butterflies flew all the way from Japan. Maolin itself is a gorgeous place. On a different note, she also has a guest post up at Yago.

Special Post: In the Fires of 2/28

February 28, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Today is “Peace Memorial Day,” a national holiday in Taiwan. Though every other national holiday I can think of in Taiwan is also celebrated in other parts of the Chinese-speaking world (even Double-Tens day is somewhat recognized in China), “Peace Memorial Day” is Taiwan’s and Taiwan’s alone. It is a memorial to the “2/28 Incident” (AKA “2/28 Massacre”) which happened in 1947.

In the Fires of 2/28 is a manhua by Du Fu-ann published last year which describes the events which led to the “2/28 Incident,” the “incident” itself, and the aftermath.

TRIGGER WARNING: This manhua describes violent conflict, including sexual assault, and I have decided to include some graphic imagery. Also, because of the graphic imagery, this post is NSFW.

So, What Happened?

Here is a summary of what happened, as told by the manhua.

After WWII, Japan had to cede control of all overseas territories, including Taiwan. Whereas many Asian countries (such as India, Korea, and the Philippines) got independence after WWII, The Allies decided to transfer Taiwan to the administration of the Republic of China. At first, the Taiwanese people were really happy about this, since China was their ancestral land and they considered this to be the equivalent of independence. It would be a little as if world leaders had decided make Quebec a part of France.

However, once the Republic of China actually took control of Taiwan, the people were bitterly disillusioned. The Chinese soldiers were poor, shabby, and greedy. The economy went down the tank, with rapidly rising unemployment, hyperinflation, and grain shortages. The Kuomintang (KMT), who controlled the Republic of China government, was far more corrupt and discriminatory than the Japanese administration, promoting Chinese people without qualifications to well-paid positions while forcing qualified Taiwanese people to do low-paid work, looting left and right, and sexually assaulting people with impunity. By 1947, the Taiwanese people were seething with fury, and all that was needed was a match.

The match was lit on February 27, 1947, when government agents hit a woman selling tobacco on the street on the head with a pistol. Other people in the street came to the woman’s support, and then one of the government agents fired a gun and killed somebody in the crowd. This sparked a huge spontaneous protest, which the government did not respond to.

The next day, Feburary 28, was the beginning of a violent uprising by people all over Taiwan. In some places, the Taiwanese stole weapons and formed their own armies to drive out the Chinese, and many Taiwanese people were organizing to form their own government, independent of the Republic of China.

The army of the Republic of China brutally repressed this uprising. After they took back control of Kaohsiung (Taiwan’s second largest city), they brutally punished the residents. The KMT also rounded up many intellectuals, even ones who were not part of the uprisings, and executed them, lest they form an independent government. Tens of thousands of people were murdered this way. The forces of the uprising were driven deeper and deeper into the mountains, until finally, they were defeated. After this, the KMT imposed martial law on Taiwan.

Meanwhile, the KMT was losing the Chinese Civil War, and eventually their army (as well as well as many Chinese citizens) had to retreat to the islands of Hainan, Kinmen, Matsu, Zhoushan, and Taiwan. Then the islands of Hainan and Zhoushan also fell to Chinese Communist control, leaving only Kinmen, Matsu, and Taiwan under the control of the Republic of China.

In the epilogue, the manhua mentions that martial law was finally lifted in 1987, and ends with an image of Lee Teng-hui, then president of the Republic of China and leader of the KMT, officially apologizing in 1995 for the 2/28 incident and offering compensation to the victims’ families.

So, how does this work as a comic book?

This manhua is only about 150 pages long, so it has to simplify things and leave some aspects of the “2/28 Incident” unexplored. I’m okay with that, since it’s intended to be an accessible introduction, not a thorough account.

In my first draft, I expressed my discomfort with the way the Chinese are depicted as two-dimensional villainous caricatures, not because I excuse their crimes (the looting, corruption, rape, and murder are inexcusable), but because it rings false—all of those heinous crimes were committed by people. However, upon reflection, I realize that from the victims’ point of view, they may very well have been caricature villains, and the manhua is primarily interested in the victims’ perspective.

However, I still think the lack of personalization of the Taiwanese people makes the story feel too dry and didactic. Since this is a story of many people, focusing on a few characters would also be artificial on its own way, but I think the manhua would have benefited from putting a little more emphasis on individual stories instead of mostly telling the story from the point of view of the masses. Comic books draw strength by appealing to feeling, and the best way to draw feeling is to tell stories of individual people.

There is a Taiwanese family which plays the role of Greek chorus but … something about them feels too didactic to me.

The closest the manhua comes to showing the Chinese point of view is the inclusion of a political cartoon from a Shanghai newspaper.

In this cartoon, the Republic of China/KMT are worms which have infested the big apple (China) for a long time, and have just started infesting the small apple (Taiwan). It shows that, as intense as the suffering of the Taiwanese people under the KMT was, the Chinese had been suffering worse for a longer period of time. I think this is a really important point. Even though the poor Chinese soldiers did commit a lot of crimes too, it was the KMT elite, not the non-elite Chinese, who were ultimately responsible. And, in some ways, the suffering that the KMT imposed on the poor Chinese soldiers was worse than what they imposed on the Taiwanese.

What makes the manhua work, however, is the artwork.

The Artwork

While I criticize the narrative for not being sufficiently personalized, the artwork does partially make up for this by making the events come alive through is lively movement, such as in this page where a soldier breaks in and shoots an older man:

However, I also think the artwork is the main reason I’m uncomfortable with the depiction o the Chinese. Looking carefully at it again, there’s not much in the text which dehumanizes the Chinese. It’s mainly the artwork which makes the Chinese look like caricatures.

Truman makes the KMT cry.

On the one hand, I recognize this may represent the victims’ point of view. However, I am especially bothered by the way the Chinese, particularly the KMT, are depicted as being humorous. I know that it’s artistically a good idea to balance tragedy wit humor, but even with my warped sense of humor I don’t think any part of this story is remotely funny, and making the criminals look funny just feels … wrong.

The Chinese are stealing everything they can, how funny … not.

The manhua also makes use of various metaphorical imagery. One image which is repeated again and again is this flower … I’ll be honest, I don’t know what the flower’s significance is, by it generally accompanies a block of text describing historical details.

The flower above KMT leaders acting like spoiled brats.

Some of the imagery works very well, such as this image of the Republic of China (represented by the hands) wringing Taiwan dry.

I do applaud the manhua from not shying away from gruesome imagery. It doesn’t dwell on the graphic stuff too much—the purpose is to tell a story, not to revel in violence—but I think drawing out some of the horrors is necessary for the reader to feel a tiny bit of how terrifying the “incident” was.

The Republic of China forces round up, shoot, and rape the people of Kaohsiung.

Students are rounded up, blindfolded, shot, and their bodies are thrown into the sea.

The Republic of China forces gouge students’ eyes, castrate them, and then behead them.

There are some drawings which are beautiful in a horrifying way, such as this scene:

Dead bodies lie across a blank page.

These gruesome images make a stark contrast to the almost expressionless “leaders” who seem oblivious to the horrors around them.

This, in my opinion, is a more powerful way to show how monsterous the KMT elite were than making them look like cartoon villains.

The Slant

This is one of the most politically charged sections of Taiwanese history, and as such, people have very passionate views on this story. Just as black people, southern whites, and non-southern whites tend to have different interpretations of the U.S. Civil War, so do different groups in Taiwan tend to have different interpretations of the 2/28 “incident,” and it tends to reveal one’s political bias.

The slant taken by this manhua is that General Chen Yi, who was put in charge of Taiwan immediately after Taiwan passed into Republic of China control, is the big bad guy. This is a relatively non-controversial position to take, since almost everybody agrees that he was horrible. Not much is said about Chiang Kai-shek, though the manhua does compare him to Koxinga (the Ming dynasty general who fled to and took over part of Taiwan after the Ming dynasty was driven out of China).

Of course, the very act of making a manhua about this at all is a political statement. For decades, anything referring to the “incident” was heavily censored, and one of the big fights of the Taiwanese democracy movement was making it possible to discuss the “incident” in public. This manhua is exercising the freedom won by the democracy activists.

Availability in English

As far as I know, this manhua is totally unavailable in English.

While it is primarily targeted at a young Taiwanese audience, I think people all over the world have something to learn from the “2/28 Incident,” and this is an accessible introduction. However, I have no idea who would translate this into English.

For those who want to know more about the “2/28 Incident,” Formosa Betrayed by George H. Kerr (who appears in the manhua) is available online for free.

I do wish the people who put the manhua together had consulted an English editor.

I think the real George Kerr spoke grammatically correct English.

Conclusion

This “incident” was so formative of Taiwanese politics and identity that I don’t think it’s possible to have a deep understanding of Taiwanese society without knowing what happened.

I think it’s also helpful for getting a better understanding of Taiwanese media. For example, in Fated to Love You, Xinyi (the lead female character) comes from a family which was on the victims’ side in the 2/28 “incident,” whereas Cunxi (the lead male character) comes from a family which was on the aggressors’ side. I don’t think the audience needs to know this to appreciate and enjoy the drama … but this is a fact which is very apparent to Taiwanese audiences.

Sara K.’s grandfather was actually in China when World War II officially ended. According to her father, when WWII was declared over, from her grandfather’s point of view, that was the end of the war. But for his companions, who were in the Republic of China army, the war was not over—they knew that the Chinese civil war was going to restart almost as soon as Japan was defeated. Sara K. does not know what happened to her grandfather’s companions, but most likely they switched sides to the Communists, fled to Taiwan, or were killed.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Legend of the Fox/New Tales of the Flying Fox

February 26, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

Legend of the Fox vs. New Tales of the Flying Fox

Legend of the Fox and New Tales of the Flying Fox are both Shaw Brothers’ movies adapted from the novel Other Tales of the Flying Fox. Other Tales of the Flying Fox is a prequel to the novel The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain, which I have already discussed. However, while the original novel also has some of the characters from The Book and the Sword, they don’t show up in the movies.

Quick Story Overview

Hu Fei is an unfortunate young orphan. Just after he was born, his father, Hu Yidao, was killed by his friend Miao Renfeng in a duel—but Hu Yidao only died because the malevolent Tian Guinong put poison on Miao Renfeng’s sword. Hu Fei’s mother committed suicide shortly after this.

Hu Fei is a young man who has learned martial arts from the manual left by his father. Meanwhile, Miao Renfeng’s wife Na Lan abandoned him and their daughter to go be with Tian Guinong. As Hu Fei contemplates getting revenge on Miao Renfeng, Miao Renfeng is tricked, poisoned, and blinded. Since Hu Fei feels it would be dishonorable to kill Miao Renfeng while he’s blind, he works to restore his eyesight, so that he can then kill him with honor (isn’t that so logical?) Hu Fei meets Cheng Lingsu, a young woman who is an expert on poison and antidotes, and he asks her to help him restore Miao Renfeng’s eyesight. He also gets involved Cheng Lingsu’s conflicts with her master’s other students.

Both movies cover this much of the story, but beyond this, the plot of the two movies diverge. For example, Yuan Ziyi, who is a key character in both the original novel and in New Tales of the Flying Fox, does not appear at all in Legend of the Fox.

Background on the Movies

Why did Shaw Brothers adapt the same novel twice only four years apart (1980 and 1984)? I don’t know.

Legend of the Fox was directed by Chang Cheh, who is considered one of the great marital arts movie directors.

New Tales of the Flying Fox stars Felix Wong as Hu Fei and Kara Hui as Yuan Ziyi. Felix Wong is famous for playing Jin Yong heroes, such as Xu Zhu, Guo Jing, Yuan Chengzhi, and Qiao Feng. Well, in this film, he plays Hu Fei. Kara Hui, meanwhile, is a noted and highly-respected kung-fu movie star.

Mesmerizing Disco Fashion

One of the things that really struck me about Legend of the Fox was the fashion. Many of the characters were dressed as if they were ready to go to a disco party.

This is 18th century China?

I was particularly mesmerized when there were whole slews of people dressed in oh-so-late-70s clothing.

Seeing all of those chests becomes hypnotic after a while.

New Tales of the Flying Fox also looks like an 80s film, but at least if feels like it’s set in imperial China, not a disco club.

My review of Legend of the Fox

First of all, this movie has *way too much dialogue*. I think at least 1/3 of the dialogue should have been cut out. I could have maybe forgiven the wordiness if it were being really faithful to the novel, but it makes a number of departures from the original novel (completely changing the ending, for example).

The acting … okay, the acting is not bad. At least, not bad enough to make me cringe. However, I don’t feel that the actors brought much to the table. Sure, the performances have a minimal competence, but I also feel that they didn’t bring any insight to the stories or the characters. Chin Siu-ho, in my opinion, was a shallow Hu Fei, which is a pity, because I think Hu Fei has a lot going on psychologically.

Now, it’s clear from the fight scenes that this came from the golden era of martial arts films. Everybody involved is clearly professional and skilled (I would expect no less of Chang Cheh). Some of the fights are a little long … but some of the fights are bloody impressive, such as the one where blind!Miao Renfeng fights a bunch of guys armed with chains.

Alas, while the fights do a fine job of supporting the movie, they can’t carry it—and as you may gather from the above comments, the script and the acting don’t carry the movie either.

Summary: though some of the fights are nice, I don’t like this movie.

The Value of Young Women

I could dedicate an entire post to the way Jin Yong’s female characters are treated, but here’s a short version: in Jin Yong stories, young women are valued for beauty/attractiveness and intelligence/knowledge. A young woman ideally is beautiful and smart, but if she’s not beautiful, she better be smart, and if she’s not smart, she better be beautiful. Young men, on the other hand, don’t have to be smart, or pretty, or anything else to be valued.

Cheng Ling-su, in the novel, is not pretty, so she has to justify her existence by being very smart and knowledgeable. This is who they cast to play her in Legend of the Fox

That’s right, they cast a pretty actress to play one of the few Jin Yong female protagonists who is not pretty.

Who do they cast in New Tales of the Flying Fox?

I think this is okay. By the standards of Hong Kong cinema, she is plain-looking.

My Review of New Tales of the Flying Fox

Even though this movie (90 minutes) is much shorter than Legend of the Fox (123 minutes), a lot more happens. This is partially because there is a lot less pointless dialogue.

Doesn’t that look exciting?

In fact, this movie moves so quickly that once I got into the story I didn’t realize how quickly time was going by. “Whoa, I’m already an hour into the movie!”

The fight scenes are shorter in this movie, but I think that makes them better. They pack more of a punch this way. But it’s not just that. They also have a delightful playfulness about them.

Playing with pots is fun.

The highlight of the movie for me, however, is the way that Felix Wong and Kara Hui come together so well in this film. Every scene featuring Hu Fei (Felix Wong) and Yuan Ziyi (Kara Hui) was a joy to watch. As actors, they reacted to each other like lightning, building on each other’s performance. It’s to bad there is no TV series starring the two of them together—I would watch it.

Felix Wong as Hu Fei and Kara Hui as Yuan Ziyi

I wish this movie were a bit longer. I would not have minded seeing more fighting or more screen time between Hu Fei and Yuan Ziyi, but I think there were a couple things missing from the movie:

1) Some parts of the plot should have been better explained. I was able to follow everything because I had read the novel … but without knowing what happened in the novel, some things would not have made sense.

2) I would have liked more development of the relationship between Hu Fei and Cheng Lingsu. Ideally, Cheng Lingsu/Hu Fei/Yuan Ziyi should be a tense love triangle, but Hu Fei/Yuan Ziyi pretty much steals the show in this movie. The problem is that Hu Fei and Chung Lingsu simply don’t have enough screen time together, and as a consequence, one of the most moving parts of the story falls a bit flat in this movie.

Hu Fei and Cheng Lingsu: these two do not look like they have romantic feelings for each other.

Summary: If the biggest complaint I can make about a movie is “it was too short,” then I probably really liked the movie.

Availability in English

Both Legend of the Fox and New Tales of the Flying Fox are available on region 3 DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

The original novel is a bit all over the place, so it makes sense that a movie adaptation would pick and choose bits, and try to mold them into a coherent movie. These two movies did not pick and choose the same things, so even though they are based on the same novel, they feel very different from each other. Legend of the Fox is more about scheming and demonstrating physical might, and New Tales of the Flying Fox focuses more on personal relationships, with violence added for fun.

Yuan Ziyi has her knife at Hu Fei’s throat – how romantic.

If you want to see a movie adaptation of Other Tales of the Fox, pick New Tales of the Flying Fox, not Legend of the Fox.

There will be a special post on Thursday, February 28.

Sara K. needs to watch more martial arts movies. She also needs to spend more time learning Chinese. She also needs to spend more time hiking. She also needs to cook more often. She also needs to learn some new skills. She also needs at least two hundred years of good health and economic security to do everything she wants to do. Sigh. That’s not going to happen.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Hokkien Hollywood and Anime Amoy

February 5, 2013 by Sara K. 7 Comments

This week’s column is a little different. Instead of officially published works, I am discussing fan-generated material, specifically, YouTube videos. But first, some background.

The Behemoths of Mass Popular Entertainment

Living in Taiwan has changed how I think of Hollywood and Anime/Manga.

In the United States, Hollywood is domestic. It is (for better or worse) a part of American culture. Many Americans claim that Hollywood is corrupting American culture, but it is not perceived as an outside force threatening to wipe out American cultural identity.

Much as many Americans love anime and manga, they are not perceived as existential threats to American culture. While some Americans claim that anime/manga are corrupting American culture, and the animation and comic book industries have felt the effects of competition with anime and manga, nobody is scared that anime and manga will crowd out American cultural identity.

In Taiwan … the situation is different.

A Taiwanese movie poster for The Hobbit

Most movies which run in Taiwanese movie theatres nowadays originate in Hollywood. Most of the cartoons available in Taiwan are anime (and if they’re not anime, they’re probably from Hollywood). And most comic books published in Taiwan are translated from Japanese.

In the 1990s, the Taiwanese movie industry collapsed, and prior to 2007, local movies were for art-film types, and everybody else ignored them. This situation changed when Cape No. 7, a local film, became the second-highest grossing film in the history of the Taiwanese box office (first place: Titanic). Since 2007, ordinary Taiwanese people have started watching new local films in significant numbers, and other local box office hits have followed, including Night Market Hero.

From an anecdotal perspective, local blockbusters seem to get the Taiwanese people I encounter more excited than Hollywood blockbusters. In particular, I recall that there was an entire month when it seemed like everybody was talking about Seediq Bale. However, there are still many more Hollywood blockbusters per year than Taiwanese blockbusters per year, which means that, if I ask a Taiwanese person ‘Have you seen any good movies lately?’ they are much more likely to talk about the Hollywood movie they just saw than the local movie they just saw.

Japan has even more dominance over the Taiwanese comic market than Hollywood has over the Taiwanese movie market. The dominance is so extreme that I’ve met Taiwanese people who aren’t even aware that there are non-Japanese comics published in Taiwan (at least everyone in Taiwan *knows* that there are local movies).

I’ve been asked by multiple people who have travelled in Taiwan how to find Taiwanese manhua, since they themselves couldn’t find any. Imagine a traveller in a major Japanese city being unable to find manga, or even in a major American city and unable to find American comics.

As far as animation … the only local animation I know about in Taiwan is Next Media Animation, and they’re owned by a Hong Kong company.

I saw a bit of Neon Genesis Evangelion on Taiwanese TV during Lunar New Year last year. Can you imagine a mainstream American TV station airing Evangelion during Christmas?

On the one hand, many Taiwanese people love Hollywood movies/TV shows and/or Japanese anime/manga (and many love Hong Kong media, and many love K-dramas, and the Hindi-film fanbase, while small, it is rapidly growing). On the other hand, some Taiwanese people see Hollywood and anime/manga taking up most the oxygen that local storytellers need just to breathe, in other words, they are an existential threat to local culture.

How do Taiwanese people and other Chinese speakers respond to situation of loving the very thing that threatens to crowd out their own culture?

Well, they respond in many ways. One way is adapting Japanese manga into local TV dramas, which always, based on the ones I’ve seen, includes Taiwanizing the stories – changing the setting to Japan, making the characters Taiwanese, adding elements specific to Taiwanese culture, etc. Another way is dubbing Hollywood movie / anime clips into Hokkien and putting them on YouTube.

But before I get to the YouTube videos, some background on Hoklo culture.

Some Notes about Hoklo Culture

First of all, it’s impossible to sum up a culture in just a few paragraphs. This is not intended to be a comprehensive introduction, or even a functional introduction – I’m just trying to provide some context.

‘Hoklo’ is to ‘Chinese’ what ‘Spanish’ is to ‘European’ – Hoklo people are Chinese, but a distinct subset. The Hoklo people mainly come from southern Fujian province, and they speak a language which is called ‘Hokkien’ or ‘Minnan’, which has many, many, MANY dialects. The dialect spoken around the city of Xiamen is called ‘Amoy’, the dialect spoken in Taiwan is called ‘Taiwanese’ (though Taiwanese Hokkien itself has distinct dialects varying by region in Taiwan), and the dialect spoken in Singapore/Malaysia is called ‘Penang Hokkien’.

I’ve been to Kinmen, an island in southern Fujian province where Amoy is spoken. There are many ‘wind lions’ around the island. The people felt that good times turned into bad times too quickly, so the wind lions were put up to prevent good luck from getting blown away by the wind. Even though this is specific to Kinmen, I think it represents something about the Hoklo experience in general.

A picture of a Kinmen wind lion taken by Wikimeida user kleistan.

Southern Fujian has historically been the poorest and most politically unstable part of coastal China, but now it’s one of the wealthier parts of China. Likewise, Taiwanese people (70% of whom identify as Hoklo) are wealthier than their Chinese counterparts, and Hoklo people in southeast Asia are often wealthier than their neighbors – but the reason why so many Hoklo people left China in the first place was because of their poverty and difficult lives.

And there is still the possibility that the current situation could get really horrible really quickly – Taiwan is a lot more militarized than California (because it needs to defend itself from China), Fujian is the most militarized part of coastal China (because, at a minimum, it has to be able to withstand a Taiwanese counterattack, and would likely be the launching point of an offensive on Taiwan), Singapore is nervous about Malaysia, and as recently as the 1990s, Chinese Indonesians (many of whom are Hoklo) were the targets of ethnic-based violence, which inspired many of them to leave Indonesia.

The origin of much Hoklo wealth lies in international trade – in fact, the English word ‘tea’ comes from Hokkien (guess who first sold tea to the British). Because of their geographical dispersion and their participation in international trade, Hoklo people, particularly those outside of China, know a lot about different cultures and have taken many aspects of other cultures as a part of their own. On the other hand, Hoklo culture itself is considered to be under threat pretty much everywhere even in Taiwan where they have a majority.

Even though there are over 40 million native speakers of Hokkien, there is no writing system which is accepted by the majority, or even a large plurality, of native speakers. This means there are very few books published in Hokkien, and most native speakers would not be able to read them easily. Therefore, Hoklo people rely on other languages (often Mandarin) for written communication. In modern times, lacking a widely accepted writing system is a major threat to a language.

What point am I trying to make? This point: Hoklo people, historically and today, are very open to other cultures, in fact much of their wealth comes from understanding foreign people, yet they often feel like they are in danger of losing their identity, or worse.

Finally, the Videos

As far as I know, no Hollywood movie or anime has ever been officially dubbed in Hokkien (and I am certain no manga has been published in Hokkien). There is not even the expectation that things will be translated into Hokkien – interactions with outsiders are conducted in Mandarin or foreign languages.

Therefore, many people find the idea of Hollywood movies and anime in Hokkien very funny.

Enter YouTube

The most popular Hokkien Hollywood video is this famous scene from Star Wars, dubbed in Hokkien. The Hokkien used is a direct translation from the original English dialogue, so I think subtitles are unnecessary:

However, these videos are intended to be entertaining, so sometimes the video makers take *ahem* liberties with the translation. Here is Hokkien James Bond, with English subtitles (warning: immature sexual humor)

And if you had any doubts concerning whether or not there is an overlap between this Hokkien fandubbers and slash fandom, let this Lord of the Rings video put those doubts to rest:

Of course, Hollywood movies are not the only subjects of Hokkien fandubs – anime gets Hokkien treatment too (though generally without English subtitles, which is why I’m not providing examples).

Now, I think many of the people who make these videos simply want to post something fun and silly on Youtube. However, at least one maker of these fan videos has an explicit social point to make.

This video starts with Taiwanese students working hard to learn various foreign languages, yet they can’t speak Taiwanese. The point that Taiwanese people are choosing foreign culture over their own culture is very clear. Then the video proceeds to present clips from Hollywood movies, anime, and various other things, all dubbed in Hokkien (if you want to know which movies an anime get dubbed, watch it yourself).

It’s hard to explain, but in Taiwan (and I suspect this is also true for Hoklo people in China and southeast Asia), Taiwanese is considered a very personal language – for example, even for people who use Mandarin as their primary language, Taiwanese is the language of choice for swearing.

Hokkien also symbolizes local control, whereas Mandarin and foreign languages represent centralized and distant authority. For example, in both Taiwan and China, formal education happens in Mandarin, as mandated by the central government from Beijing/Nanjing (even though it’s been many decades since the Republic of China, the current government of Taiwan, controlled China, it originally was a government based in Beijing/Nanjing, not Taipei). Furthermore, in Singapore, the government encourages all ethnic Chinese residents to speak Mandarin, in spite of the fact that Mandarin is, for most of them, not their heritage language. Likewise, Mandarin and foreign languages represent art controlled by distant, centralized authorities (media corporations), whereas Hokkien represents folk traditions. This is one reason why people have such powerful feelings about the choice of language in the Chinese speaking world.

Fandubbing is one way for Hokkien speakers to reclaim some control from the central media authorities.

***

Anyway, Happy Lunar New Year! This is the last post of the year of the Dragon. I will celebrate the new year … by putting this column on hiatus for a few weeks. The next post should come on February 26 (I also have a special post planned for February 28).

Sara K. is Jewish, yet she is ignorant of much of Jewish culture. She thinks it is terribly ironic that, as bad as her Taiwanese and Hakka language skills are, they are currently a hundred times better than her Hebrew language skills. When she wonders why many Taiwanese people invest so much more effort into learning foreign languages than mastering Taiwanese/Hakka, she then remembers the people in her family who wonder why she is putting so much effort into mastering Chinese instead of learning Hebrew, and then she thinks ‘oh’.

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Sword Stained with Royal Blood (2007)

January 29, 2013 by Sara K. 2 Comments

It’s a Jin Yong double whammy. Last week, I discussed a manhua adaptation of The Laughing Proud Wanderer, Jin Yong’s penultimate novel. Now, I’m discussing the 2007 TV adaptation of Sword Stained with Royal Blood, one of Jin Yong’s earliest novels.

The Story

Yuan Chonghuan was a patriotic general, and the emperor rewarded him with assassination (what a nice emperor). His son, Yuan Chengzhi, is rescued, and reared at Mount Hua, where he learns some martial arts. Yuan Chengzhi, as a young man, decides to leave Mount Hua to embark on adventure, and eventually finds the martial arts manual, “Golden Serpent Sword,” and bones of Xia Xueyi, a mysterious man who had incredible martial arts skills. By studying the manual, and wielding the Golden Serpent Sword, Yuan Chengzhi inherits Xia Xueyi’s awesome abilities.

Yuan Chengzhi wants to avenge his father’s death. That’s a tall order when the target of your revenge is the *emperor of China*. During his adventures, Yuan Chengzhi discovers that the world is not quite as simple as he thought.

Background

If you don’t know/remember who Jin Yong is, a search can help you.

This is a TV series produced by Zhang Jizhong, who is China’s star TV producer. He’s known for big-budget TV productions in which local governments often fund the construction of the lavish sets … but the local government gets its money back when tourism drastically rises after the TV series is aired (in some places, I’ve read, Zhang Jizhong’s TV productions have caused tourism to increase ten fold). He has taken much more control over artistic decisions than earlier Chinese TV producers, which is why his name is more strongly associated with the TV series than the director’s.

By Zhang Jizhong standards, this series is a bit modest.

The Songs

The opening song really grew on me. In particular, I love the lyrics – they have a nice, bold rhythm and punch to them (unfortunately, this is the kind of thing which is almost always lost in translation). I think the song’s baroque tone suits the story quite well.

Of course, people who prefer sappy wuxia tunes (and hey, I like some of them) can enjoy the ending song. However, one of my favorite wuxia TV theme songs for sappiness value is not this one, but the song for the 1985 version of Sword Stained with Royal Blood, “Passions Cold, Passions Hot”.

The Fighting

Overall, the fighting is excellent, particularly in the first half of the series.

There is a conscious effort to be specific with the moves, and to show them clearly so that the audience can follow the fights and notice how the balance between the fighters change (fights which cannot be easily followed are boring). There’s also variety – it’s not the same fight repeated over and over again.

The strange Xia Xueyi

Most importantly, the fighting styles – by which I mean the actually choreography – are tied to the characters. Most distinctive, of course, are the strange techniques of Xia Xueyi and his strange Golden Serpent Sword. When Yuan Chengzhi picks it up, we can see the resemblance. Meanwhile, Princess Changping’s style – with her incredible flexibility – is also distinctive.

A high kick from Princess Changping

And some of it is straight-out creative. For example, there’s a scene where characters fight over a bunch of treasure chests. Yuan Chengzhi first tries to defend the chests, then the chests get used as weapons, then Yuan Chengzhi knocks the chests into the air, creates a single-stacked column of chests, and then has a precarious duel on top.

The boy can keep his balance!

The Lighting and Colors

Look at these pictures:

Notice how it looks like all of the characters have a halo effect around their heads, in particular, their hair gets turned white by the backlight? The back-lighting forms a white silhouette of their bodies, particularly their heads.

I don’t know about your life, but in my life this type of lighting is very, very rare. So the fact that this type of lighting is the default in this TV series gives the entire show a feeling of being grander than life. Specifically, it makes the characters feel grander than life, since it is they who are highlighted by the white-silhouette effect.

Of course, by making this the default lighting scheme, deviations do stand out, which can be put to good artistic use (the best example of this I can think of is a spoiler, so I’m not going to point it out).

To get this particular lighting effect, you need to keep lots of stuff in the shadows, which explains why this series is more heavily weighted towards darkness.

Different kinds of scenes have different palettes – for example, the scenes at the palace tend to use a lot of yellow, orange, and red. However, when I look back on my impressions of the show, it seems to me that the palette was emeralds in the background, and lavender in the foreground. That palette feels just right for the story (then again, if somebody did a good job filming the story with a different palette, I might then feel that that other palette is just right for the story). These screen shots show what I mean:

I do notice a lot of the screen shots I’m using in the post are heavy on the electric blues.

A Note about Qingqing

Jin Yong’s early novels are full of tomboyish heroines who often try to pass as male. Li Yuanzhi in The Book and the Sword even asks a woman to marry her (albeit not seriously). However, I think Qingqing merits special mention because she is, if I recall correctly, the only Jin Yong female protagonist who hires (female) prostitutes to entertain her (actually, I can’t of any male protagonists who hire prostitutes either).

Yuan Chengzhi and Xia Qingqing in the red light district (Qingqing has a lot more fun).

And I love the way Qingqing is dressed in this TV series, but since I’ve already gotten into a digressions about the lighting, I don’t want to get into a digression about costumes too.

Beijing strikes back at Hollywood

Since I had read the novel, I knew that there were some minor Portuguese characters, but I was quite surprised when I watching the TV series and suddenly heard … English???

At first I thought that maybe they had changed the nationality of the European characters, but nope, they are still Portuguese. Then I was puzzled why Portuguese people in 17th century China would speak English.

However, I would have put this issue out of my mind quickly and gotten back into the story if the Portuguese characters’ acting was good. It was not. It was terrible.

Considering that one of the readers of this column is a fluent Portuguese speaker who has experience in the film industry and lived in China for years—not to mention that there are still thousands of Portuguese speakers living in Macao—I think it probably would not have been so hard to bring in native Portuguese speakers (if you are that reader, I am interested in your take on this). And there are white men who establish entire acting careers in China. However, if getting decent Portuguese-or-English-speaking actors really was not feasible, I would have preferred it if the TV series had just let the Portuguese characters speak Chinese, with their lines dubbed in by good actors. That would not have broken the flow of the story.

That said, this is less than nothing compared to what Hollywood does to Chinese/Chinese-American people and culture (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, this website offers some clues).

And finally, as far as the story is concerned, I think the treatment of the Portuguese characters is quite kind considering the history of China-Portugal relations.

The Xia-Wen Drama

I was surprised by how caught up I got in the opera between the Xia and the Wen families. Like other reviewers, I found this arc to be the most engaging in the series.

Wen Yi and Xia Xueyi on the swing

I think this is partially thanks to the beautiful way that the choreography, cinematography, and Vincent Jiao’s acting all come together. The images of Wen Yi and Xia Xueyi on the swing are particularly memorable. This music video shows much of the footage I’m talking about.

Now, why is this more engaging than the main story, which is about somebody who wants to get revenge on the emperor, and then wants to help the peasantry, but things keep getting more complicated? After all, that is definitely more epic than a mere family vendetta.

I think it might be because the pain of the Xia and Wen families is simply more visceral. For all that Yuan Chengzhi is determined to get revenge, we actually don’t get to experience much of his pain over the loss of his father. By contrast, Xia Xueyi blaming himself for the fact that a man from the Wen family raped and murdered his sister makes his pain very apparent.

The story of Yuan Chengzhi/the Chongzhen emperor/Princess Changping is still interesting and has its moving moments, and towards the end there is certainly pain … but perhaps not enough. Even though he experiences a lot of internal conflict, Yuan Chengzhi doesn’t get thrust deeply enough into the fire to have his world burn down.

Availability in English

This TV series is available on DVD with English subtitles. Click here to be notified when it becomes available at DramaFever.

Conclusion

I liked the original novel – as a Jin Yong fan. Many of the ideas developed in later novels, particularly the Condor Trilogy, are present here. For example, Yuan Chengzhi’s own personality is basically a combination of Guo Jing, a little Yang Guo, and more than a little Zhang Wuji. Yet Yuan Chengzhi is much more boring than any of those three, which to me is evidence that more specifically defined characters are generally much more engaging. If, however, I weren’t a Jin Yong fan, I probably would have gotten a lot less out of the novel.

I think this TV adaptation is more fun than the original novel. Some parts are extremely entertaining, which is the main reason I’m glad I watched this series. Some parts are less entertaining, which is the main reason I’m not enthusiastically recommending it.

This TV series is superior to A Deadly Secret in every way except one: the basic story. The story of A Deadly Secret haunts me. While Sword Stained with Royal Blood is more fun, it had not made nearly as deep an impression.

Next time: Hokkien Hollywood and Anime Amoy (fandom)

Sara K. has taken a lighting design class. It changed her understanding of the world, particularly visual art, much more than she expected. She had underestimated just how much light affects people’s feelings.

On a completely different note, can you match up the theme songs of the 80s versions of Jin Yong stories with the 90s versions (i.e. figure out which songs are for the same story)? It’s pretty easy if you know the stories and/or understand Chinese, but I wonder about people who don’t know Chinese/the stories.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Lee Chi-Ching’s The Laughing Proud Wanderer

January 22, 2013 by Sara K. 11 Comments

An Example Scene

Linghu Chong notices that the young woman whom he is still very sweet on, Yue Lingshan, is unhappy.

Furthermore, he notices that her father and husband don’t care that she’s unhappy. He tries to think of a socially appropriate way to cheer her up.

Linghu Chong remembers that, when he was a part of Yue Lingshan’s family, he could always cheer her up by losing to her in a sword fight (without letting her know that he lost on purpose). Therefore, he figures the best way to cheer her up is to challenge her to duel.

Notice how the artwork first shows Linghu Chong and Yue Lingshan’s intense gazes, then goes back to show how the fight looks to the crowd – i.e. Linghu Chong and Yue Lingshan have now entered their own world, oblivious to everyone else.

The crowd notices that, while the fight is intense, the feeling is not of intense enmity, but a feeling of intense love. Somebody even remarks that it seems like they are dancing rather than fighting (ha, I am *not* the only person to consider the fights in Chinese martial arts fiction to be a kind of dancing).

I love those flowers. Methinks the artist has been exposed to shoujo manga.

This fight is bringing back Linghu Chong and Yue Lingshan’s memories of practising swordplay at Mount Hua, which was the happiest period in both of their lives. In fact, they are using the sword technique that they themselves made up together.

And this is why Jin Yong writes the best fights. Anyone who invests the time it takes to be a good martial artist has pretty strong feelings about it, and in Jin Yong stories, the fights are a key means by which characters express their feelings, grow, and mature. I have yet to encounter another storyteller who so thoroughly integrates combat and the characters’ emotional journeys.

Yue Lingshan’s husband is jealous. Personally, since he doesn’t care about his wife’s happiness (or lack thereof), I think he has forfeited his prerogative to feel jealous.

A sword has been launched into the air!

And it lands on Linghu Chong’s back (Linghu Chong let this happen so that Yue Lingshan would win).

Everyone, especially Yue Lingshan herself, is shocked that she injured Linghu Chong, except Linghu Chong, who is busy enduring the pain of having a sword in his back.

The reader knows that purposefully losing this duel is a potential disaster for Linghu Chong and the people he is responsible for, but it would take at least a paragraph to explain the context, so I’ll just say that the reader should feel an impending sense of doom at this point.

Background

The Laughing Proud Wanderer is, of course, one of Jin Yong’s more famous novels. It should not come as a surprise to anyone who read my post about Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes that I would eventually review the other manhua adaptation of a Jin Yong novel. This novel is also special to me for a personal reason, but I plan to discuss that in a future post.

The Laughing Proud Wanderer was written during the Cultural Revolution in China, and it’s pretty obvious that Cold War politics strongly influenced the novel. Some people even go so far as to say that it’s a political allegory. I prefer not to interpret it as an allegory, but allegories are fun, so I’m going to describe the story in allegorical terms using the most common interpretation (Five Mountain Sword Sects = Soviet Union, etc.)

Story

Linghu Chong is a disciple of the Hua Mountain Sect, which is part of the Soviet Union. He a bit of a loose cannon. He tries to do the right thing, but this sometimes gets him in trouble. Furthermore, in situations when most Jin Yong heroes would run away, he says, “Bwa ha ha ha ha ha, I am Linghu Chong, I’m NOT SCARED OF YOU! HA HA HA HA HA!” even when he is clearly no match for whatever he’s facing, which leads to him getting bashed up a lot and spending at least half of the story recovering from injuries he could have avoided by running away. It’s a bit astonishing that he manages to survive all this.

Anyway, the Soviet Union is sworn enemies with the Chinese Communist Party, led by Mao Zedong, and has a … tense relationship with Shaolin, Wudang, and Emei, which belong to NATO.

Linghu Chong gets kicked out of the Hua Mountain Sect, which causes him much angst because he has been brainwashed by the Soviet Union, and is in love with his shifu’s daughter, Yue Lingshan. During his wanderings, he encounters another young woman, Ren Yingying, and slowly develops a relationship with her, but then it’s revealed that she is part of the Chinese Communist Party. which, according to the Soviet Union, is totally evil.

Of course, the intrigue gets thicker. Joseph Stalin, who already leads the most powerful sect in the Soviet Union, wants to bring the entire Soviet Union under his control, and Mao Zedong has imprisoned Ren Yingying’s father and taken over the Chinese Communist Party. Linghu Chong does not want to deal with this, but he has a clue of what’s at stake and, unfortunately for him, NATO, the Chinese Communist Party, and especially the Soviet Union want to deal with him.

Artwork

Many of the comments I made about the artwork in Lee Chi Ching’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes also apply to this manhua, though there aren’t nearly as many tears in this one. Linghu Chong is the *laughing/smiling* proud wanderer, not the weepy proud wanderer.

Lee Chi-Ching is still a master of depicting movements of the human body.

Lee Chi-Ching’s style, of course, is heavily influenced by Japanese manga, but he also draws upon the long history of Chinese brush-ink paintings, which makes the manhua feel more distinctively Chinese (this was, if I remember correctly, one of the reasons Jin Yong was interested in having Lee Chi-Ching adapt and illustrate his novels).

Additionally, this manhua has a few color pages, like the ones below.

The palette is quite muted, unlike the palettes seen in most Hong Kong manhua, or Japanese manga (or American comics for that matter). It most resembles the color palettes found in traditional Chinese paintings. Since the color is used to highlight particular moments, I wouldn’t want the entire manhua to be in color, but I would have definitely liked more color pages (perhaps having the manhua be 10% in color).

Two characters who I think Lee Chi-ching did a particularly good job of depicting are Yue Lingshan and Yue Buqun.

Yue Lingshan is upset

Lee Chi-Ching says Yue Buqun is one of his favorite characters, and I can see that in the artwork (one of the color examples above shows Yue Buqun). I also think he got Yue Lingshan just right. This manhua deepened my appreciation of both of these characters.

However, comparing this to The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, I find that the art in The Eagle-Shooting Heroes is ultimately more striking. I think this mainly due to the differences in the stories. The Eagle-Shooting Heroes is a story where characters are constantly wearing their hearts on their sleeves and feels like an epic folk tale, whereas The Laughing Proud Wanderer is a more intellectual story in which characters do a lot of thinking and often don’t reveal their true feelings, and the plot is much more complicated, so it simply does not lend itself as well to striking artwork (unless one wishes to distort the story).

Adaptation

This time, I read the novel before reading the manhua.

On the one hand, I’m a bit disappointed that it removed one of my favorite scenes. On the other hand, I recognize that this story is so long that Lee Chi-ching almost had to abridge it, and that the scene is not essential to the main story.

Impressively, Lee Chi-ching did manage to keep most scenes from the novel, but he often slimmed them down—I often notice that specific bits of dialogue I remembered were not present in the manhua. It is a compliment to Jin Yong’s writing skill that I was able to remember so many bits of dialogue more than six months after having read the novel, yet at the same time I think slimming down the dialogue was the right choice; having too many words would have bogged down the manhua’s pacing, and people who really want that should read the bloody novel.

While it’s not identical to the novel, I feel this is faithful to the spirit of the novel, and while it’s always possible to find something to complain about, I still think this is, overall, an excellent adaptation, and I don’t think anybody else would have done it better.

Dongfang Bubai

Dongfang Bubai and his/her lover

It would take an entire post for me to describe what I think about the depiction of Dongfang Bubai and certain other characters, so let’s just say that I think it’s transphobic, homophobic, and sexist.

Given the source material, I think Lee Chi-ching’s depiction was as inoffensive as it could be while staying faithful to the original … with one exception.

In both the novel and the manhua, Linghu Chong says that it’s laughable that a sect leader would dress as a woman. First of all, there’s Huang Rong in The Eagle Shooting-Heroes who is a sect leader and usually dresses like a woman, but maybe she doesn’t count because she’s cis-female. And for some reason, people don’t think it’s shameful for women to dress as men (which happens quite often in Jin Yong stories).

However, in the novel, Linghu Chong later on ends up dressing like a woman himself, demonstrating that masculine heroes are just as capable of dressing like women as anybody else. This is one of the things which ameliorates the transphobia in the story. Unfortunately, this scene is cut in the manhua. I am almost certain this was in order to make the story move faster, but I still wish it had been kept, if only to counteract the transphobia/sexism.

Lee Chi-ching’s Afterwords

Each volume of this manhua ends with an afterword from Lee Chi-ching, and these were actually quite interesting. Almost all of them contain a sketch of himself, like this one:

He sometimes talks about Hong Kong current events (such as the transfer to People’s Republic of China rule and the SARS epidemic), he sometimes talks about the personal meaning The Laughing Proud Wanderer has for him (it’s his favorite Jin Yong novel, which is why he was so stoked when Jin Yong asked him to adapt it), and he talks about his artistic ambitions, as well as the other projects he’s working on (such as illustrating all of Jin Yong’s novels for the large-print edition).

Of particular interest to Manga Bookshelf readers are his comments about Korean manhwa. I knew one reason Jin Yong licensed manhua adaptations of his novels was to counter the influence of Japanese manga, but I hadn’t realized that the Hong Kong manga industry also feels invaded by Korean manhwa. Lee Chi-ching tries to see the competition with Korean manhwa as an inspiration to try harder.

Availability in English

I wish.

Conclusion

Whenever I return to an artist I love, I always wonder if the artist is as great as I recall, or whether a given work will fail to meet my high expectations. Sometimes I am disappointed, but this time I was not. Instead, this manhua reminded me why Lee Chi-ching is one of my favorite comic book artists in any language.

Next Time: Sword Stained with Royal Blood (TV series) (yes, it’s a Jin Yong double whammy)

When you like going outside and live in Northern Taiwan, that means the weather has a great deal of control over your schedule. The weather has been unusually good lately (by local standards), so Sara K. barely finished this post on time.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Night Market Hero

January 15, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

This movie was Taiwan’s biggest box-office success in 2011. The top-rated review of this movie at the IMDb starts like this:

As a Taiwanese in a foreign country, this movie reminds me of my home town more than I think. With all the joys and tears, this movie is just so TAIWAN! Not exaggerated, this movie brings the way we live, we feel, we care, and we earn for life.

As a foreigner in Taiwan, I agree that this movie is “just so TAIWAN!”

The Story

Well, there’s a night market, the 888 Night Market, full of a cast of colorful characters. Ah Hua, a young man, helps manage the night market, and when he’s not dealing with the night market he takes care of his grandmother.

A screen shot of Ah Hua

He also gets into a bit of a tense (flirty?) relationship with a young journalist, Yi-nan.

A screen shot of Yi-nan

But then a corrupt local politician sells the night market’s land to developers (note: this kind of thing happens all the time in Taiwan). Can Ah Hua and Yi-nan SAVE THE 888 NIGHT MARKET????!!!!

Oh, and to make things juicier, the corrupt local politician is Ah Hua’s uncle.

Night Markets

When you ask a Taiwanese person “What is Taiwanese culture?” or “What makes Taiwan special?” there is a very high probability that they will mention night markets within the first few minutes. Almost all tourists visiting Taiwan are advised to visit night markets, for that matter, when I tell Taiwanese people “I visited [place in Taiwan]”, I’m often asked “Did you go to the [place in Taiwan] night market?”

I have a confession to make.

I don’t actually like night markets.

Okay, at first there was the novelty value. That gradually wore off. What I eventually found is that, even though the food seems cheap, that’s only because it’s sold in small portions, and if you want a full meal, it’s cheaper to go to a humble restaurant than to try to fill your stomach a night market, and IMHO, the restaurant food will probably taste better. Night markets are also often crowded, and … yeah, I’m not a night market person.

It’s still common to see traditional performances at night markets, temples, and other public spaces in Taiwan.

However, I definitely prefer the night markets in the mid-size to small cities than the night markets in big cities like Taipei and Kaohsiung. When I go to big city night markets, I get the sense that most of the sellers are trying to get their buck quickly and efficiently, and they don’t have much energy left over for human bonding. I think the smaller city night markets are just as commercial, but at least the atmosphere generally feels more laid-back. If I do go to a night market, I prefer going to a night market like the Taoyuan City Night Market. It’s small, it’s usually not too crowded, there aren’t many tourists so many of the people there actually know each other, and it just feels friendlier.

The night market in this movie is definitely a small-city / town night market. You won’t find a night market like this in the big city, or at least I haven’t.

Countryside vs. Metropolis

Many contemporary Taiwanese stories revolve around a clash between small towns and rural areas, and the cosmopolitan big city. This can be seen in Fated to Love You and even in Autumn’s Concerto. Usually somebody from the countryside encounters somebody from the big city, and they have some kind of relationship. The country person often speaks Taiwanese, needs to take care of elders, has economic trouble, etc. The city person generally speaks Mandarin, and often speaks English or another foreign language too, is better dressed, is wealthier, and might not even live in Taiwan. In this movie, the country person is Ah Hua, and the city person is Yi-nan. While country-boy-has-romance-with-city-girl seems to be the most common setup, there are other setups – in Seven Days of Heaven the city girl and country boy are siblings, and in Formula 17, both the country boy and the city boy are gay.

Ah Hua and his grandmother

The fact that this story is so common and popular demonstrates that it really resonates with a Taiwanese audience. On the one hand, Taiwanese people want to learn English/Japanese/German/Korean/whatever, want to live abroad, or at least travel extensively, and want to adapt a modern, international lifestyle. On the other hand, there is a great deal of fear that they are about to lose their own culture and identity.

I think their fears are well-founded. If you ever come to Taiwan, I dare you to find somebody under 30 who is fluent in the Hakka language. I have met young Hakka speakers in Hsinchu county (where the government supports Hakka language education and, in some towns, over 90% of the population is Hakka) but even in the hills of Taoyuan county – which also has a large Hakka population – I have yet to find a single young Hakka speaker. And I’ve spent a lot more time in Taoyuan county than Hsinchu county.

Ideally, Taiwanese would be able to preserve their own traditions and embrace whatever aspects of international culture they please. However, life is not so simple. Both understanding foreign cultures and keeping one’s own heritage alive requires a great deal of time and effort (you can ask Melinda what it takes to maintain Manga Bookshelf). Therefore, Taiwanese people do have to choose what they are willing to invest their time and energy in, and that’s why there’s a debate.

Stereotypes and Zhong Xin Ling

Like the United States, Taiwan is a fat-phobic society. However, a much smaller portion of the population of Taiwan is fat, so it’s much easier to forget that there are fat people.

In spite of this, Zhong Xin Ling, who is fat, has forged a career as an actress, TV host, and media personality (she performs in both Fated to Love You and My Queen). She has done a lot to make fat people visible in Taiwanese media, and to demonstrate that fat people are, you know, people. For that, she has earned my respect.

However, when a producer wants to cast someone to play the stereotypical “fat girl,” they call her. This is not Zhong Xin Ling’s fault, it’s the producers and scriptwriters’ fault that they perpetuate the stereotypes.

Zhong Xin Ling’s brief appearance in Night Market Hero, alas, is as a stereotypical “fat girl.”

Chu Ke-liang

Chu Ke-liang is Taiwan’s most well-known living comedian and TV personality, and is by far the most famous person in the entire cast. However, even though he is famous for his humor, and this film is a comedy, his part as the corrupt politician is played completely straight.

Budaixi Puppets!

Ah Hua’s grandmother has a set of budaixi puppets – not the jinguang kind, but the old, traditional kind.

Once upon a time, there was no television in Taiwan, and most of the population was illiterate. Back in those days, glove puppet shows, known in Mandarin as budaixi were the most popular form of public entertainment. In fact, they stayed in the mainstream of Taiwanese entertainment until a generation ago, and even now they have a core group of die-hard fans. Even 7-Eleven sometimes uses budaixi in its ads.

When I ask why budaixi are not as wildly popular as they were, say, 30 years ago, I always get the same answer: there is too much competition from Hollywood, Hong Kong, Tokyo, and most recently, Seoul. People who in an earlier generation would have been puppet geeks are today anime geeks (or Hollywood geeks, or K-pop geeks … you get the idea).

Based on my observation of young Taiwanese men (which, to be fair, is entirely anecdotal), they are most likely to embrace manga and anime as their primary form of mass entertainment, with Hollywood movies coming in second place. Though I know there is a set of young puppet fans, I haven’t met them, and most of them are into jinguang budaxi, not the traditional budaixi. To see Ah Hua messing with traditional budaxi puppets instead of, say, One Piece merchandise, simply screams of Taiwanese pride. In fact, it is so unusual that stretches my suspension of disbelief, and makes me feel that the movie might be laying on the Taiwanese pride a bit too thick. On the other hand, it is sending the “this is authentic Taiwanese culture” meme pretty pretty clearly (at least to an audience that is familiar with ‘authentic’ Taiwanese culture).

Location Spotting

In some of the flashback scenes, they show Danshui, with Mount Guanyin—possibly the most recognizable of all Taiwanese scenery—in the background. Danshui, of course, is one of the most touristy places in Taiwan, and is referenced in Autumn’s Concerto, Pinoy Sunday, and in my post about Creative Comics Collection, while Mount Guanyin is also shown multiple times in It Started with a Kiss (adapted from Itazura na Kiss).

Some comments on the language

This movie is in a mix of Taiwanese and Mandarin, with a little Hakka too. I suspect they deliberately added the Hakka to show that this is a movie about Taiwan, and not just the Hoklo people (about 70% of the population of Taiwan identifies as Hoklo, while about 10-15% identify as Hakka).

In Taiwanese media, it is common practice, when people are speaking Taiwanese, to have subtitles in Mandarin. However, in this movie, I noticed that the subtitles (at least on the DVD released in Taiwan) for the dialogue in Taiwanese were not pure Mandarin, but rather a mix of Mandarin and Taiwanese, so they assumed that anybody who would use the Chinese subtitles could understand at least some Taiwanese. I notice that they did not do this with the dialogue in Hakka – those subtitles were in pure Mandarin (as were the subtitles for the Mandarin-language dialogue).

Speaking of subtitles…

Availability in English

This movie is available on DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

The eight generals, a staple of Taiwanese festivals, arrive on motorcycles

When seeing these guys in the street doesn’t seem remarkable, you know you’ve been living in Taiwan for a while.

I don’t think it’s possible to sum up Taiwanese culture in two hours. However, I think this movie can serve as a decent introduction to Taiwanese culture. It IS a movie – life in Taiwan is more mundane and less idealized that what is seen in Night Market Hero. At the same time, it does manage to convey a sense of what Taiwan is like, and I’m tempted to tell my friends and family to watch this movie so they have a better understanding of the environment I live in.

Next Time: The Laughing Proud Wanderer (manhua)

Sara K. is shocked, saddened, and angered by what happened to Aaron Swartz (if you don’t know what happened, read this and (trigger warning) this). If you feel the same way as Sara K., please sign this petition if you can. Aaron Swartz was one of the key organizers of the anti-SOPA/PIPA campaign in which Manga Bookshelf participated (he speaks about in this video). We should all honor, remember, and most importantly, continue the good work he has done.

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Eleventh Son

January 8, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

It is high time that I actually write a post about Gu Long, so here it is.

But First, the Story

Xiao has a reputation as a notorious bandit (even though nobody’s proven he committed any crime), and ends up rescuing Shen, who is The Most Beautiful Woman in the World (there are so many Most Beautiful Women in the World in wuxia fiction that it’s ridiculous – this gets lampshaded in Passionate Wastrel, Infatuated Hero where they keep a bloody list of the most beautiful women in the world, which Zhao Guan takes exception to). Xiao and Shen end up spending a few months together, and fall in love with other. Alas, Shen is already married, to a handsome, strong, skilled, rich, well-mannered young man no less. Oh, and she’s pregnant (with her husband’s child).

Anyway, Xiao has his own matters to deal with, being an outlaw and all. Eventually, Shen’s family is murdered and Xiao is accused. Things get pretty gnarly…

Now, I Talk about Gu Long

Gu Long, along with Jin Yong (discussed previously many times in this column) and Liang Yusheng (discussed here), is considered one of the three great writers of “new wuxia”. I actually prefer to call it “Cold War wuxia” since, you know, a new generation of wuxia writers has already emerged. Gu Long is also one of the four great (Cold War) wuxia writers of Taiwan, of which he is certainly the most popular.

What I respect about Gu Long is that he created his own personal style of wuxia, and was never content with his success – he always strove to push the wuxia genre and his own craft to the limit of his ability. As such, his works feel unique, both distinct from other wuxia writers, and distinct from each other.

Gu Long studied foreign literature in college, so it should come as no surprise that his works are heavily influenced by non-Asian literature. That isn’t to say that other wuxia writers weren’t influenced by foreign writers – Jin Yong was certainly influenced by classical Greek literature and Alexandre Dumas – but studying foreign literature is one of the things which helped Gu Long break away from the conventions of the genre and make his own kind of wuxia. Some of the foreign writers who influenced him include Ernest Hemingway, Ian Fleming, John Steinbeck, and Friedrich Nietzsche.

I’m tempted to say that Gu Long’s works are ‘wuxia noir’, except his work is so diverse that I think that is too limiting.

Writing Style

Some people say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Right now, I think thousands of words are worth taking pictures of.

Here is a random page from The Bride with White Hair.

Those paragraphs are … well-sized. Actually, these paragraphs seem a bit shorter than average for Liang Yusheng – it’s not unusually for a paragraph to take up an entire page (yes, even in this big-page format). Furthermore, Liang Yusheng uses quite a range of vocabulary.

Here is a random page from a Jin Yong novel.

That is a wall of words alright. And not just any words – the vocabulary required to read this is significantly more advanced than needed to read Liang Yusheng. I reckon it took me about 90 hours to read Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn. It’s not just non-native readers who think Jin Yong is hard – I’ve met Taiwanese people who claim they can’t read Jin Yong novels because it’s too hard (on the other hand, I’ve also seen 10-year-olds reading Jin Yong novels).

Now what about Gu Long? Here’s a random page:

It’s heavy on dialogue, and even the non-dialogue paragraphs are awfully short, heck, most of the sentences are short too. It’s not just the paragraph/sentence length – the vocabulary is also much more basic. Granted, Gu Long occasionally uses pretty advanced vocabulary, but even so, when it comes to difficulty, he’s definitely not in the same league as Jin Yong or Liang Yusheng.

I think you now understand why some learners of Chinese interested in wuxia choose to start with Gu Long.

The fact that Gu Long chooses to write mostly dialogue and sentences which are much shorter than what is standard for Chinese literature (or even conversational Chinese) definitely affects the mood. Whereas Jin Yong will go into a loving digression about tea or something, Gu Long can be so brief it’s stark.

Gu Long and Gender

Ha, I could dedicate an entire post to this topic.

Some people say that Gu Long is the most misogynist of wuxia writers. Other people say that Gu Long wrote better and showed more respect female characters than other wuxia writers.

I partially agree with both sides.

I think Gu Long has earned reputation as a misogynist. No other wuxia writer I’m familiar with comes anywhere close to saying anything as vile as what Gu Long says about women in some of his works. To be fair, the most misogynist remarks are concentrated in the villains’ mouths, however the narrator and protagonists are also guilty, and even if it’s in the villain’s mouth, it’s not much fun to read.

Now, I don’t think there is any respect in which one could claim that Gu Long writes better female characters or is more gender-egalitarian than Zheng Feng or Liang Yusheng. There are certain respects in which I think Gu Long handles female characters in a more egalitarian manner than Jin Yong or certain other wuxia writers … but in my opinion, this is more than outweighed by the misogynist bile that Gu Long sometimes pours out. It’s my impression that a much higher percentage of Jin Yong fans than Gu Long fans are female, and I think it’s because that it’s because, overall, Jin Yong is simply friendlier to a female audience.

But it’s not the sexism which most bothers me about Gu Long. It’s the gender-rigidity. Like I said, Gu Long’s works have quite a bit of variety, and some of his works are much less misogynist than others. However, everything I’ve read by him is full of statements like “All men do X because they are men” and “Women always do X. Otherwise, they would feel bad.” First of all, this erases anybody who doesn’t conform to the gender binary While I wouldn’t call Jin Yong or Liang Yusheng champions of gender diversity, they do have some characters who are not cis-gendered. But even among cis-people, there is greater differences between people of the same gender than there are between different genders. While I think there are biological between the sexes, I think gender is a social construct, and that most of the “differences” between female and male are driven by society, not biology. I strongly take exception to Gu Long’s policing of gender roles, which is far more stringent than any other writer I’ve encountered in Chinese.

I will give credit to Gu Long for offering his characters more flexibility vis-a-vis gender in Happy Heroes (which was translated into French as Les quatre brigand du Huabei), but that seems to be the exception, not the rule, for Gu Long.

Why is Gu Long more wretched than his Chinese-speaking precedents and contemporaries? I can’t definitely answer that question … but remember how I mentioned that he was strongly influenced by foreign literature? Among other things, he was influenced by the James Bond novels … and one of the lines in The Spy Who Loved Me is (trigger warning) “All women love semi-rape. They love to be taken.”

Gu Long, to his credit, has written with sensitivity at least one female character who had experienced rape, and has never managed to make a statement quite that terrible. Nonetheless, he is the only wuxia writer I know who I could ever imagine saying anything like that. Overall, his gender-policing seems to be derived much more from European and American writers than Chinese writers.

Women in The Eleventh Son

Fortunately, The Eleventh Son is quite tolerable when it comes to gender, at least by Gu Long standards. Shen, as The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, could have easily just been a fantasy object, but she’s a fully realized character with a vibrant inner life. She tries to figure why she is not in love with her fantastic husband, she is very attached to her birth family and visits them regularly, she isn’t sure how to deal with Xiao, etc. In fact, she has so much going on that she hardly has brain space left to think about her pregnancy.

Shen’s also not always a helpless victim – she has mastered a bad-ass martial art technique courtesy of her family (and thus is heavily tied up with her feelings about her family), and ends up rescuing Xiao more than once. Eventually, she is the one who decides how to resolve the love triangle between Xiao, her husband, and herself.

Additionally, another female character ends up starting a successful new romance in her mid-to-late thirties (I don’t remember her exact age).

Availability in English

This novel has been published in English.

Ha, I bet you weren’t expecting that!

I haven’t read the translation myself, but the reviews I’ve read claim that it’s excellent.

Conclusion

I actually discussed Gu Long more than this novel specifically, didn’t I? That’s probably because I think this is less interesting than the other Gu Long novels I’ve read. It’s not that it’s a bad novel – it’s fast-moving and I got involved in the story and all – it’s just that I can’t think of much to say about it.

If you can read French, I recommend Les quatre brigands du Huabei (my favorite Gu Long novel so far) over this one. In fact, if The Eleventh Son hadn’t been translated into English, I would have probably chosen to write a post about Happy Heroes/Les quatre brigands du Huabei instead. However, if you can’t read French/Chinese/etc., then I actually highly recommend reading this novel. Gu Long is one of the most influential writers of the 20th century, and this is quite different from anything I’ve read in English. Most importantly, it is a fun read.

Next Time: Night Market Hero (film)

Sara K. sometimes wonders why she spends so my effort reading, watching, and writing about stuff in Chinese. After all, the global economy is speeding head-first into another crisis, the too-big-to-fail-banks and other oligarchical/monopolistic corporations have murdered democracy in the United States (and other countries), and if we don’t make radical changes right now, climate change will kill off at least 90% of the human population within 30 years. Shouldn’t she be spending her energy dealing with these issues instead? However, she also thinks that the power of popular culture is underestimated, and needs to be examined.