Search Results for: Jin Yong

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

September 24, 2013 by Sara K. 3 Comments

Yue Buqun

Yue Buqun in soliloquy mode.

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

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

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

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

Yue Buqun … vulnerable?

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

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

Lin Pingzhi

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

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

Lin Pingzhi with his mother.

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

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

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

Lin Pingzhi is experiencing a Horrible Revelation.

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

About the Music

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

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

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

A Shift in the Ending

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

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

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

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

Linghu Chong experiences utter despair.

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

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

Comments on the Acting

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

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

Xu Qing as Ren Yingying and Wei Zi as Yue Buqun

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

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

He Meitian as Yilin and Jackie Lui as LInghu Chong

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

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

Small Evil is Scarier than Great Evil

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

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

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

Evil can also rescue puppies.

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

This is scary.

Ren Yingying and Linghu Chong look really scared.

Yep, they’re scared.

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

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

My Encounter with the TV Show

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

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

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

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

This nun has just killed somebody.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I remember watching this scene on Taiwanese TV.

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

Availability in English

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

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

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

September 10, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

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

Background

This is a TVB production.

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

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

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

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

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

The Visuals

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

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

I do like this dramatic shot.

Yilin and the Hengshan Sect

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

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

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

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

The nuns of the Hengshan Sect

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

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

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

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

The Thick, Deep Humanity of It All

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

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

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

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

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

Zuo Lengshan is puzzled.

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

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

Yue Lingshan

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

The Bad Gender Baggage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I Still Have More to Say…

So come back next week!

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

September 3, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

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

Linghu Chong is asking for a ‘donation’.

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

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

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

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

Example Scene: Why This Show Is So Addictive

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

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

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

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

The Huashan Sect disciples.

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

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

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

Yue Buqun, though not amused, stays calm.

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

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

This is Yu Canghai *not* smiling.

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

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

Linghu Chong’s sword

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

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

Yilin and Abbess Dingyi

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

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

The Story

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

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

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

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

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

I am far from done…

So come back next week for Part 2!

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

It Came from the Sinosphere: Laughing in the Wind

August 14, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

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

The Opening Scene

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

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

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

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

The Story

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

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

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

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

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

Background

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Scenery

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

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

You gotta have a lotus pond.

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

Sandstone cliffs with lots of plants and a stream.

This looks like Taiwan.

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

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

Faithfulness?

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

My short answer is ‘no’.

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

Two broad changes stand out to me:

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

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

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

Speaking of changes…

Ren Yingying

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

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

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

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

There is More to Come…

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

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

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

June 4, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

First, a Song!

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

Hey, I Know That Place!

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

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

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

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

A view of an old village in Wangan, Penghu County.

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

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

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

The Island

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

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

(this section contains some spoilers for this novel)

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

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

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

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

Not a Good Person

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a vexing character.

Wei Xiaobao and His Mother

(this is mildly spoilerific)

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

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

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

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

Availability in English

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

Thanks, Jin Yong. It was a great ride.

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

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

May 28, 2013 by Sara K. 1 Comment

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

The Story

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

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

Background

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

The Jin Yong Anti-Hero

The Jin Yong TV Tropes page puts this very succinctly:

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

The typical Jin Yong protagonist is:

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

By contrast, Wei Xiaobao

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

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

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

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

Qing Dynasty Curio Box

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

A photograph of a Qing dynasty sandalwood curio box full of various little trinkets.

This image comes from Qing Dynasty Treasures on Pineterest

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

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

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

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

Language

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

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

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

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

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

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

I read this edition.

Sexual Abuse

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

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

This explains at LOT.

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

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

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

(the rest of this section has spoilers)

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

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

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

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

Wei Xiaobao himself is also a victim.

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

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

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

I’m Not Done!

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

***

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

It Came from the Sinosphere: 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: 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: 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: 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.

It Came from the Sinosphere: A Deadly Secret (Part 2)

December 7, 2012 by Sara K. 1 Comment

You may read Part 1 here.

The Fighting

It would probably be unfair to say that the fights in this series are just indiscriminate sword-clanging. But I think most of the fights are no more than one notch above that level.

The thing is, to get good on-screen fighting, you need the following:

1. A good fight choreographer
2. Skilled performers (actors and/or stunt people)
3. Tons and tons of rehearsal time

Now, a great fight choreographer can compensate for less skilled performers, and very talented performers can compensate for a mediocre fight choreographer … but nothing can compensate for a lack of rehearsal time.

All of the above costs quite a bit of money. Particularly the rehearsal time.

I suspect this was outside this TV series’ budget.

Given that they couldn’t afford good fighting, I think they handled the fights pretty well. Though the choreography itself was not exciting, at least the fights moved the story forward. And Jin Yong writes his fight scenes so well that they would be engaging even if the performers were wet noodles.

There were a few fight scenes which did stand out … surprisingly, they were mostly fight scenes which weren’t in the original novel (or maybe that shouldn’t be surprising … when you make up your own fight scene, you can choose to do something which will look good without breaking your budget).

The standout for me is definitely the big fight at the end of episode 25 / beginning of episode 26. I never expected I would say this, but this fight works so well because of the set.

Look at that fantastic ribbon leading up to the stand.

It’s a very scenic way for the fighters to run up…

… and get kicked down.

And that stand is a great place for the fighter to stand above the crowd.

But wait!

The stand gets destroyed in the midst of the fighting!

And we have the two fighters standing on drums, while the stand collapses. Now the space has completely changed. Notice that the fighters are still elevated above the crowd. And notice all of those nice tall yellow-and-red streamers, adding nice vertical lines to the scene. With a set like that, it’s okay if the fighting itself is mostly indiscriminate sword-clanging.

I also need to give points to the costume designer who gave Di Yun such a swishy white outfit. It makes his ~~dancing~~ sword-fighting look more graceful.

Even if you don’t understand Mandarin, I highly recommend watching this fight scene yourself, because I don’t think I can adequately describe it with words and screenshots alone. You can see it in this youtube video (it starts around the 17 minute mark).

Life in an Unjust World

In a way, this is the harshest, bleakest, and most relenting of Jin Yong’s stories. The world is full of greedy people who really aren’t concerned with ethics … and they ruin the lives of the people who actually do follow some ethical principles. Again. And again. And again.

The characters could have easily been portrayed as being just black and white, and I think the TV series does go in that direction for some of the characters. However, rather than showing people as being innately good or evil, it shows that some people choose to prioritize money and power over other people, and let their greed corrupt them …. and other people choose to prioritize other people over money and power. Alas, the people who prioritize money and power tend to actually get more money and power.

Yet when money and power are not involved, the ‘bad’ guys can actually do good things and be very nice people. They don’t want to do evil. They merely don’t mind doing evil.

There is something called the ‘just world fallacy’ (TRIGGER WARNING for the link) – in other words, people want to believe that life is fair. It’s called a ‘fallacy’ because there is lots of evidence that the world is not, in fact, fair.

To pick one example (I could pick many other examples) a bunch of financial firms in the United States bribed politicians to loosen regulations, then violated even the watered-down regulations, committed fraud on a wide scale, blew up a giant housing bubble which made shelter less affordable for tens of millions of people, and which destroyed over 40% of the net wealth of middle-class Americans when it burst. Were the CEOs fired, the financial firms broken down, and serious criminal investigations launched? No! The financial firms got large government bailouts, the CEOs saw their pay increase, tens of millions of people lost their jobs and homes, fraudulent foreclosures are poisoning the centuries-old chain-of-title system which are essential to property rights, etc etc. Oh, and the statue of limitations on their crimes is coming up, which will make them immune to prosecution. This is not what a fair and just world looks like.

A variant of Sartre’s hell: being stuck in the mountains with somebody you don’t like (fortunately, for them, they stop disliking each other, which improves their quality of live).

Justice does sometimes happen in the world, but only by random luck, or when people insist on justice happening. And when people already think that the world is just, they aren’t motivated to do the hard work required to insist on justice.

Most fiction (okay, most fiction that I’m familiar with) supports the just-world fallacy – the good guys win and the bad guys lose. Like most people, I also want to believe the just-world fallacy, so in a way it’s very comforting. Such fiction serves as an escape, which probably is necessary for one’s mental well-being. But I don’t want all of my fiction to be like that.

The TV series does make the story a little more just than the original novel. For example, in the TV series (but, IIRC, not the novel), the bad guys are often plagued with nightmares filled with the ghosts of the people they have wronged. It’s a nice idea that everybody who commits evil is tortured by their consciences, but I don’t think reality always works out that way.

There’s also a new subplot in the TV series where the good guys defeat one of the bad guys very neatly. On one level, I loved watching that, because it’s nice to see the characters I like delivering a character I hate what he deserves. On another level, it makes the world of the story a little more fair, which I think goes a little against the point of the story.

This detestable character finally gets impaled on the spear of justice (the character in the background means ‘justice’). This does not happen in the original novel.

The power of this story, for me, is that it shows that, in spite of the fact that the world is unfair, it is still a wonderful to be alive.

First, integrity is its own reward. Even if you lose, lose, and lose, integrity is still worth something.

Second, there are wonderful people in the world. It is only by staying alive that one will ever have the opportunity to connect with them. And a good relationship is worth the hardship of living in an unjust world.

Of course [SPOILTER] the bad guys blow themselves up with their own greed at the end, and the good guys who are not dead get an ending that is, if not joyful, at least has some contentment. There is a limit to how much unjustness even I can stand in a story, and I’m not sure I could have taken it if the bad guys were all allowed to live happily into old age in luxury. But this story certainly takes the unjustness of the world a bit farther than a lot of other fiction I’m familiar with.[END SPOILER]

I actually find a story which acknowledges that the world is unjust and how to live on in spite of that more comforting than an escapist tale about a just world.

Availability in English

This TV series is, sadly, not available in English. It would be really nice if somebody fixed that. The novel isn’t available in English either. The only version of this story available in English is the movie, which is available on Region 3 DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

This … is actually a good TV series. I had my reservations at the beginning, and it took a number of episodes to win me over … but I totally got sucked into the story all over again. If you understand Chinese, I highly recommend trying this.

The movie is also worth watching.

However, my love ultimately belongs to the original novel. Whenever I go back to a story which I had loved before, I’m always afraid that it won’t be as good as I had remembered it. Sometimes my fears prove correct … but not this time. I noticed some flaws in the story which weren’t apparent to me before, but overall it served as a reminder of why I have come to love this story.

Sara K. actually did take a class on set design (as well as a class on costume design and a class on lighting design). She is not a good designer, but she got a lot of practice describing how various designs help or do not help tell a story. The posts she writes about comics would be really, really different if she hadn’t taken those classes … in fact, when she’s writing about comic book artwork, she often feels like she’s talking to one of her design teachers. Of course, it also bleeds into some of her other posts, like this one.

It Came From the Sinosphere: A Deadly Secret (Part 1)

December 4, 2012 by Sara K. 3 Comments

It’s high time that I discuss something from China again. It’s high time that I actually review a TV series that is not an idol drama. And it’s high time for me to discuss Jin Yong again. Now, I’m going to do all three at once.

A Scene

Why, it’s a wedding!

It’s a wedding in front of a tomb.

See, both the bride and the groom are dead, so the wedding has to take place at the bride’s tomb.

In wuxia stories, if you promise to marry somebody, you marry them. Death is no excuse.

He’s drinking because he is so happy that his best friend is finally marrying the love of his life (who apparently is also the love of his afterlife).

And he’s swinging his sword around with joy.

Anyway, since the groom and bride are dead, he needs to help them get together. This is the problem with getting married when you’re dead – there’s no privacy when the newly married couple finally gets intimate physical contact.

Wait a minute … why are the bride’s arms stretched up like that?

And there’s writing on the inside of her coffin. That’s only possible if she was put in the coffin while she was still alive.

The writing says that, as a reward to whoever reunites her with the love of her life (afterlife), she is revealing The Deadly Secret (which is not exactly a favor, since people who learn The Deadly Secret have a tendency to die young).

The groom’s cremated ashes are poured onto the bride’s body. What a romantic wedding!

Background

I don’t think it’s possible for a Jin Yong novel to be underrated, but if any of his novels are underrated, it’s this one. It’s my personal favorite of his novels under 1000 pages.

If you don’t know or forgot who Jin Yong is, you can refer to my post about the Condor Trilogy or The Book and The Sword.

There are only three adaptations of this novel: the 1980 movie, the 1989 TV series, and the 2004 TV series. This is (mostly) about the 2004 TV series.

The Story

Di Yun is a country bumpkin who is studying martial arts and is in love with his master’s daughter, Qi Fang. It’s a real bummer when his master disappears, he gets framed for heinous crimes, Qi Fang marries the man who framed him, the prison guards break his body, and he’s put with a cell mate who beats him up for apparently no reason whatsoever.

This is what Di Yun looks like after hearing that Qi Fang is going to marry the guy who framed him and put him in prison.

Why does his life suck so much? Well, you see, there is this ultra-powerful martial arts technique and fabulous fortune that everybody is trying to get … and Di Yun is unwittingly close to this deadly secret.

The Songs and the Production Values

At first I didn’t like either the opening or the ending songs. But the opening song eventually grew on me and, by the end of the series, I even liked the ending song.

If you watch the opening and ending songs, you might notice that the production values are a bit lower than the norm for, say, Hollywood TV shows.

Welcome to China.

Personally, I’d rather watch something with consistently low production values than something with mostly high production values which spectacularly drops the ball, and really, the production values of this TV series really aren’t that bad at all. And ultimately, the quality of the story and acting is much more important to me than the quality of the special effects.

Adaptation

This TV series is 33 40-minute episodes long. The original novel is less than 500 pages long. Before watching this series, I wondered how they could make it so long without lots and lots of padding.

Well, it turns out that there is not that much padding per se. There is quite a bit of added material, but a lot of it is just spelling out things which are merely implied in the novel. Most of the added material is relevant to the story. At worst the new stuff is offensive (because of sexism or ableism) but thankfully most of it is not. Quite a bit is powerfully mediocre. Some of the new stuff, however, is quite good.

The biggest change is not that new stuff is added (since much of it was implied by the novel), but the pacing itself. This novel is quite concise by Jin Yong standards, so things move fairly quickly. In the TV series, things progress in a much slower and more thorough way. In some ways, this increases the emotional impact – for example, we see a lot more of Di Yun and Qi Fang’s relationship, which makes their separation even more heart-breaking. However, in some ways it makes the story harder to watch – it’s much easier to read about Di Yun getting framed in the novel, where events move pretty quickly, than to watch the TV series, where it takes several episodes to watch Di Yun getting framed and tortured in prison.

I also think there is some power in leaving some things left unsaid. That’s one of the things I like about the novel. Sometimes, when the TV series fleshed out the unsaid stuff, it did pretty cool things with it … but I still think leaving things to the reader’s imagination is more powerful.

It’s hilarious to compare the 33-episode TV series to the 90-minute movie. Things which take two episodes in the TV series happen in two minutes in the movie. Of course, the movie cuts out about 60% of the original story (the TV series covers about 130% of the original story).

Ding Dian

Even though Ding Dian only appears in two chapters of the original novel (specifically chapters 2 and 3 of the novel), he is definitely the most memorable character in the story. Apparently, other people agree, because both the movie and this TV series give him plenty of screentime.

On the one hand, he is a bad-ass martial artist, one of the toughest fighters in this story, and he spends a great deal of time cultivating his kung-fu skills. In fact, he can even (under certain specific circumstances) bring dead people back to life. But it turns out martial arts is not his greatest passion in life.

His great passion, it turns out, is flowers.

Ding Dian at the flower fair

He is a flower encyclopedia (this is most apparent in the novel, but also indicated in the TV series). He goes to a flower fair. His greatest joy in life is watching flowers. It turns out that one of the villains is also a flower-arranging geek, so he gets to communicate with Ding Dian via flowers.

Of course, there are other reasons to love Ding Dian. He is a person of great integrity, and intensely loves his friend and his sweetheart. But being a badass martial artist who loves flowers above all else (except maybe his friend and his sweetheart) clinches the deal.

The Female Characters

In some stories, I would be annoyed if the female characters were constantly relying on the male characters to rescue them. Not in this story. It is clear that they are just as innately competent as the male characters. However, patriarchy has so badly stacked the deck against the female characters that they can’t rescue themselves. They do still manage to rescue the male characters when it is in their power to do so.

A picture of Qi Fang

All of the main female characters – Qi Fang, Ling Shuanghua, and Shui Sheng – have the same problem; they were born into a society that is so patriarchal that even their own families, who ‘cherish’ them, ultimately consider them to be merely disposable possessions. Sure, their families claim to love their daughters and other female relatives dearly, but when push comes to shove, in this TV adaptation [SPOILER WARNING] one female character is murdered by her father, another female character, after having almost been murdered by her fiancee, is driven to suicide by her uncle, and the last one is murdered by her husband [END SPOILER WARNING].

And the fact that Baroque China was an extremely patriarchal society makes it that much easier for their families to oppress them, in fact, without the patriarchy helping their families bully them, these female characters would have definitely had much happier outcomes.

A Picture of Ling Shuanghua

An interesting thing I noticed is that the female characters don’t want to believe that their families regard them as (potential disposable) possessions. They want to believe that they are being loved as full human beings. I can understand this, since the truth is very cruel. In a way, it’s easier to keep on believing one is being valued and loved properly. But reality catches up with all of them.

I appreciate that this TV series gave a lot more attention to the female characters than the novel. On the one hand, some of the new material is powerfully mediocre (at worst, offensive). On the other hand, some of it is good, and definitely fleshes out the females characters more than the novel does. In particular, the TV series is a bit more sympathetic to Qi Fang, and treats us to the Extended Adventures of Shui Sheng (granted, it’s a mixed bag).

A Picture of Shui Sheng

Yes, the adult female characters even talk to each other in the TV series, which is not true of the novel (they mostly talk to each other about men though). That said, I actually think it’s okay that this story fails the Bechdel test, because the female characters’ isolation is one of the worst ways the patriarchy has stacked the deck against them. Two of the female characters’ families hardly ever let them leave home, and only with supervision, and the third one gets kidnapped, which drastically limits her opportunities to bond with other women.

What is really interesting is that, even though all of the main female characters have the same problem, they react to the problem in different ways.

You Think I’m done Talking? Bwa ha ha ha ha…

I definitely have more to say about this TV series, but this post is getting long, so I guess I’ll have to wait until Friday to say more.

Next Time (not Friday): The Bride with White Hair (novel)

Sara K. plans to discuss every single Jin Yong novel at Manga Bookshelf. She is now halfway there, having discussed six novels and having six novels left to cover. Her plan is to discuss Tales of the Young Fox, Sword Stained with Royal Blood, and The Laughing Proud Wanderer next, in that order, but that’s only a tentative plan.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Xuanji Tu

August 28, 2012 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

I realize that I’ve been writing a column on Chinese-language pop culture for months … without featuring a single creative work from mainland China. This was not on purpose.

More than anything else, it reflects that Taiwan is my vantage point. I have better access to Taiwanese media than other Chinese-language media and, knowing a few things about Taiwan, I’m also more comfortable commenting on Taiwanese media. If I were writing this column from San Francisco, it would probably be really different.

Taiwan, in some ways, has deeper cultural ties with the Chinese-speaking communities in south-east Asia than with China itself, and from the conclusion of the Chinese civil war up until about 15 years ago, contact between mainland China and Taiwan was limited.

Things are changing now, but they are changing slowly. Change is happening fastest in TV. Since Mandarin is understood in both China and Taiwan, many TV shows are based on stories popular in both China and Taiwan, and Chinese TV shows sometimes cast Taiwanese actors in order to get their fans’ attention. Change is happening slowest in print media, because there is the traditional characters/simplified characters barrier. Since many Taiwanese people do not want to learn to read simplified characters, it means that to bring Chinese literature over to Taiwan, a publisher has to produce a traditional-character edition. It’s not easy to persuade a publisher that this is worth the risk.

Nonetheless, a publisher decided to publish Wu Way’s novels in traditional characters, and a lot of Taiwanese bookstores decided to put her novels on their shelves.

Wu Way

Wu Way (吳蔚) is a writer of historical novels and has contributed to historical TV shows as well. She is originally from Hubei Province, China. She says that she finds her life in old piles of paper—in other words, digging through historical materials is her passion.

Recently, her novels have been published in Taiwan in traditional Chinese characters, and that’s how I got a copy of this novel.

Brief Story Overview

This novel is set towards the end of the reign of Wu Zetian, China’s only female empress regnant.

It is about five friends, all members of the upper class: Di Xiao, Wang Zhihuan, Wang Han, Li Meng, and Xin Jian. One night, Wang Han disappears … and then right after he comes back, he’s arrested for a brutal rape-and-murder. In order to clear his name, his friends investigate the crime to find the true culprit. There are more murders and even more mysteries, which all seem to revolve around the “Xuanji Tu.” The more they investigate, the more they become involved in intrigue right at the heart of the Tang court.

The Xuanji Tu

The Xuanji Tu is a famous and complex palindrome poem by Su Hui. For more details, read the wikipedia entry for Su Hui (note: normally I would not cite Wikipedia as a source, but I really cannot find any other website in English which describes the Xuanji Tu, and this is not an academic paper). I had no idea that the Xuanji Tu existed before reading this novel.

In addition to pursuing the Xuanji Tu, some of the characters are also trying to get an original copy of one of Wang Xizhi’s works. I can attest that Wang Xizhi is the calligrapher whom I hear of or read references to the most often.

Historical Background

I’ll be honest. My understanding of Chinese history is quite basic, and even that might be an overstatement. I get that the Ming dynasty ruled China more than a thousand years after the Han dynasty, but if you asked me how China under the Ming dynasty was different from China under the Han dynasty, you would get a blank stare from me.

Thanks to this novel, I know a heck of a lot more about the reign of Wu Zetian. Before, I just had a vague notion that she liked to collect attractive men to satisfy her desires—the truth about Wu Zetian’s sexual relationships is a bit more nuanced than that, and she did even more interesting things outside the bedroom.

And boy does this novel go into historical detail. Wu Way claims that 95% of the characters (including all of the main characters) are genuine historical figures. And the life of the upper class under the Tang dynasty is described in exhaustive detail. There are a lot of endnotes, which I eventually stopped reading.

I’m afraid much of the historical detail was lost on me.

On The Genre

Detective fiction happen to be one of my least favorite genres. Unless I can be convinced that it’s the most awesome detective story ever, these days it is almost impossible to entice me to read detective fiction that is not crossed with some other genre (science fiction, for example).

This book, of course, does cross genres. It bills itself as a “historical wuxia detective novel.” I’ve see it in both the historical fiction and wuxia sections (though some bookstores combine the wuxia and historical fiction section, I consider them to be as distinct as science fiction and fantasy). The “historical” part is definitely justified (see above). The “detective” part is also justified, since the first half or so of the novel is about finding out who the criminal is. The “wuxia” part … okay, yes, the characters often have to use their martial arts skills to climb over a wall or something. But there is precious little combat, and most of the characters don’t seem terribly concerned with martial arts, or with acting in a xia manner (they’re upperclass-types, not peasants seeking justice in an unjust society). So I don’t think labeling this novel as “wuxia” is justified.

As it so happens, I liked the story more after they found out who the true criminal is, because then it became less of a detective novel and more about intrigue in the Tang court, which is more interesting to me.

Brutality

While this novel is only gory once in a while, when it gets gory, it really gets gory. This is an example (which you should skip if you are not sure you can stomach it).

“On the steps before the gate there was a man hanging, dripping with blood, naked, his entire body covered with every kind whip lash, burns from hot irons … his hands and feet had already been cut off, his face had been reduced to a pulp, his eyes had been dug out, his ears, nose, and tongue had all been cut off. He looked, not like a human, but a demon that had risen from the depths of hell.”

I picked this example because it is relatively brief, not because it is the most horrifying (at least, not to me).

As readers may have noticed, I have a tendency to enjoy fiction with a lot of violence, but this novel managed to shock even me.

My Personal Reaction

I had to try reading this novel twice. The first time, I was overwhelmed because it wasn’t what I was expecting (I wanted a wuxia novel and got a detective story instead) and the language in this novel is particularly difficult (definitely a couple notches more difficult than a Jin Yong novel). The second time, I came in with a better attitude, and actually enjoyed it.

I rather like history, so while a lot of the historical stuff did go over my head, I did learn a lot, and found it quite interesting. When I have time, I really do need to do my homework on Chinese history.

And eventually, I did get caught up in the characters. I appreciate the development of the relationship between the five friends, and the various people they encounter. And the brutality is most shocking, not when it’s based on pure gore, but when it’s tied into personal relationships. For example, there is a husband who does something astonishingly cruel to his own wife. That particular plot line definitely got my attention, in a jaw-dropping way. And finally, while I can’t judge how historically accurate it is, I think Wu Way did a good job of personifying Wu Zetian and her family, and I got caught up in their side of the story.

Availability

Availability in English … ha ha ha.

It is, of course, available in both simplified and traditional Chinese characters.

Conclusion

This is one of those novels which I would not expect to like, but nonetheless I ended up being glad that I read it. It’s not to be taken lightly, due to the difficulty of the language and the copious historical details, but there are definitely things in the novel which have stayed with me. I don’t know if I’ll ever try Wu Way’s other novels, but if there’s a convenient opportunity, I probably will.

Next time: Pinoy Sunday (movie)

Sara K. loves history in general, but really getting to know history takes time, and she’s already spending a lot of time improving her Chinese. Her favorite way to learn history is travel—whether it’s walking the streets of San Francisco with a knowledgeable guide, or walking through an interesting corner of Taiwan and reading all of the signs explaining the local history.

Last week at Manga Bookshelf, 7/29-8/04

August 7, 2012 by MJ Leave a Comment

Here’s what you may have missed at Manga Bookshelf last week, July 29th-August 4th!

After the previous week’s outpouring of CLAMP, last week belonged to Manga Bookshelf’s regular contributors and their diverse collection of topics.

From the main blog:

The Battle Robot shared our Pick of the Week and filed a new installment of Bookshelf Briefs.

On August 1st (aka “Yaoi Day”), I blogged about BL manga and privilege.

Matt Blind checked out online manga bestsellers from the weeks ending July 8th, July 15th, and July 22nd.

This month in “Magazine no Mori,” Erica Friedman talked about the “slightly eccentric” Young King Ours.

In the latest installment of “It Came from the Sinosphere,” Sara K. shared her thoughts on Jin Yong’s wuxia novel The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain.

Anna, Emily, Eva, and Nancy take on the K-drama Big in their latest edition of “Bringing the Drama.”

In last week’s “Combat Commentary,” Derek Bown gave us an overview of the fighting in One Piece.

Angela Eastman compared the novel and graphic novel versions of Darren Shan’s Cirque Du Freak in her latest “Comic Conversion” column.

And guest contributor Justin Stroman talks about Olympic gymnast Kouhei Uchimura in Manga, and the Olympic Inspiration.

From The Manga Critic:

Kate reported on Vertical’s license announcements from Otakon and VIZ’s summer manga sale, and reviewed volumes 3-5 of Dawn of the Arcana.

From A Case Suitable for Treatment:

Sean reviewed Soul Eater Not!, Vol. 1 and Jiu Jiu, Vol. 1. He also took a look at Manga the Week of 8/8, and shared some news about the upcoming Looney Tunes Platinum Collection 2.

From MangaBlog:

Brigid’s linkblogging last week included Looking back at Kodansha’s first year and Happy Yaoi Day!