ZHANG YIMOU: The Hollywood Interview

(Zhang Yimou, above.)

[Another retro interview flashback. My talk with Zhang Yimou occurred in the spring of 2002 and originally appeared in Venice Magazine. Zhang Yimou was promoting his film Happy Times, and had already completed Hero, the martial arts spectacular which was to take his career into an entirely different direction, genre-wise. After Raise the Red Lantern, Happy Times is actually my favorite film of Zhang Yimou, although it is a bit of an anomaly in his canon of work. Much of it is structured like a screwball comedy, including the concept, although unquestionably present in the film is the feeling of melancholy that permeates all of his work. I enjoyed the dichotomy of the comedy and sadness, whereas it is the sadness that dominates many of his earlier films.

This was also the first and only interview where the subject also had his own audio tape rolling. Zhang Yimou had trouble in the past with the Chinese censors and perhaps this was something he did regularly to make sure he was not misquoted. I only speculate.

In person, he was pleasant, although very much felt like a tough general who had been through the wars. A few laughs here and there, but very strong and firm.)

by Terry Keefe

Zhang Yimou is arguably the most acclaimed Chinese filmmaker alive today. For the past decade and a half, his films have been at the vanguard of revolutionizing Chinese cinema. He has proven himself a master of a number of film genres and styles, from period dramas such as Raise the Red Lantern (1991) to his new release Happy Times, a bittersweet comedy. Incredibly prolific, he has made 13 feature films within the last 15 years, earning him prestigious honors such as the Grand Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival (in 1994 for To Live) and the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival (in 1992 for The Story of Qiu Ju). He has discovered amazing actresses such as Gong Li (who starred in Zhang’s directorial debut Red Sorghum in 1988) and Zhang Ziyi (who made her debut in his The Road Home in 1999).

But all of this almost never happened.

When the Cultural Revolution gripped China in 1966, Zhang's family background made him “politically questionable.” His father was a former member of the Kuomintang (Nationalist) army and his mother was a doctor. Like many of his generation with similar family histories, Zhang was forced from secondary school and sent to work in the countryside. Between the years 1968-1971 he worked on farms in the Shanxi Province and then from 1971-1978 he was a laborer in a spinning mill.

From the start of the Cultural Revolution, the Beijing Film Academy, pretty much the only avenue to a real filmmaking career in China, had remained closed. But in 1978, it reopened its doors and held a nation-wide examination for those wishing to be admitted. Zhang Yimou was on the list of those wishing. He passed the exam with honors, but he was nonetheless rejected because at age 27 he was deemed five years too old to enroll in the Academy. Zhang appealed the decision to no avail. Finally, he wrote a letter to the Minister of Culture, urging that the only reason he was applying to the Academy at 27 was that he had already lost ten years of his life to the Cultural Revolution. Shortly thereafter, the Academy accepted Zhang, placing him in its Cinematography Department.

Upon graduation, Zhang was assigned to work as a cinematographer at regional film studios, first the Guangxi Film Studio and then the Xian Film Studio in 1985, quickly establishing himself as a master cinematographer on films such as One and the Eight (1982), directed by Zhang Junchao, and then Yellow Earth (1983) and The Big Parade (1985), both of which were directed by Chen Kaige (see our interview with Chen Kaige). It was Yellow Earth which would effectively jumpstart the legend of Zhang’s generation of filmmakers in both China and the rest of the world. The film received praise in the international film community, particularly for Zhang’s innovative camerawork. Zhang Yimou, Chen Kaige, Zhang Junchao, and others would be dubbed the “Fifth Generation” of Chinese Filmmakers by the critics, all of them sharing the background of being the first group of filmmakers to have begun making films after the Cultural Revolution. Their films would share in common a great willingness to experiment with camera style and film stocks, and they would tell stories which were unafraid to examine the darker areas of Chinese history, both modern and ancient. And leading the way for this so-called Fifth Generation would be Zhang, who would make his directorial debut in 1988 with Red Sorghum, which would go on to win the Golden Bear at the 1989 Berlin Film Festival.

Ju Dou (1990) and Raise the Red Lantern (1991) would follow, with both receiving Academy Award nominations for Best Foreign Language Film, although Raise the Red Lantern was not actually seen in China for a few years because the government censors banned it. Then came The Story of Qiu Ju in 1992 and To Live in 1994. All of these films featured the actor Gong Li in a lead role. A story which follows a poor Chinese family’s struggles in the years following the Communist takeover, To Live would be regarded by many as Zhang’s masterpiece but it would also cause him the most trouble at home, once again being banned by the Chinese authorities. To Live was showered with awards at the 1994 Cannes Film Festival but the Chinese government refused to give Zhang permission to attend in person. Despite having to keep an eye on the demands of the censors, Zhang continued to produce amazing work such as the gangster drama Shanghai Triad (1995), the modern comedy Keep Cool (1997), Not One Less (1999), The Road Home (1999), and now Happy Times.

In Happy Times, Zhao Benshan plays Zhao, a poor, middle-aged single man who is desperate to fall in love and winds up meeting a woman (Dong Lihua) through a dating service. Zhao mistakenly gives her the impression that he is a very wealthy hotel manager, and she agrees to marry him if he promises her an expensive wedding. He does so and is now in a jam. Desperate to get the money for the wedding by any means necessary, Zhao enlists the help of his friends to renovate an abandoned bus in a park. Their plan is to charge young lovers by the hour to use the bus, which they dub “the Happy Times Hotel.” But the whole scheme falls through because Zhao is too conservative to let any of the young lovers go inside the bus unless they leave the door open. To make matters worse, Zhao’s bride-to-be insists that he find a job at his “hotel” for her 19-year old stepdaughter Wu Ying (played by Dong Jie in an amazing debut). The sad and lonely Wu Ying is blind and was abandoned by her father, who has promised one day to return with the money for an eye operation. Not wanting to be exposed as a fraud, Zhao offers Wu Ying a job as a masseuse at his “hotel,” and now he has to put together an elaborate ruse, with the help of his friends, to convince the blind girl she is working at a real hotel, when in actuality it is only the rear of a factory. Eventually, a parental-like bond develops between Zhao and Wu Ying, even as his relationship with her stepmother dissolves. The performance by Dong Jie in her debut is a revelation. She is at times heartbreaking to watch as she struggles to figure out what is really going on, as everyone around her struggles to deceive her in a variety of ways. And her portrayal of the girl’s blind mannerisms is perfect.

There are very few directors who can make the shift from a gangster drama to a period family epic to a comedy to a kung-fu movie, but a trademark of Zhang’s body of work is that he is able to jump from genre-to-genre and style-to-style without ever seeming to miss a step. As in Happy Times, his films are often filled with humor and lightness, but are also punctuated by sadness. He never goes for the easy Hollywood happy ending either. If the story really earns it, a Zhang film might end happily. But it could just as easily end on a real down note. Once again, much like life itself. The concubine played by Gong Li in Raise the Red Lantern loses her mind in the end; the family in To Live watch their only daughter die; and Qiu Ju in The Story of Qiu Ju gets her wish of seeing the town chief punished for assaulting her husband but it proves very bittersweet. On the other side of the spectrum, The Road Home is a fairly sentimental and joyful film. And Happy Times is perhaps Zhang’s most purely comical and entertaining film to date. Not that it presents a bunch of easy answers to life’s problems any more than Raise the Red Lantern does. That’s just not the way of Zhang Yimou. If there’s a common theme running through all his films, it might be that there are no easy answers in life.

I had an opportunity to speak with Zhang Yimou when he was in Los Angeles recently. The interview was done through an interpreter.

Happy Times was based on the novella “Shifu, You‘ll Do Anything for a Laugh“ by Mo Yan. How much had to be added to the plot to expand it to a feature-length story?

Zhang Yimou: A lot. The novella didn’t have the blind girl. So after adding this element, the whole story was different. We only kept about 20 percent of the original story.

The film marks the debut of Dong Jie, yet another terrific actress who you’ve discovered. How did you find her?

From 40,000 girls (who were looked at) nationwide. From ages 18-30. The selection of this actress took five months. When I first met Dong Jie, I omitted her. Then after three months, I went back (to her) and said, “Maybe I can work with this girl.” The role of the blind girl in my mind was very skinny, so I wanted her to be thinner. Then Dong Jie lost the weight, maybe 10-15 pounds.

During the audition process, did you ask the actresses to play “blind” to see how well they could do it?

Yes, I asked them to perform in three styles (during the auditions) - happy, sad, and then as a blind person.

Once you cast Dong Jie, how much work did you do with her to develop the “blind” acting technique she used so well in the film?

We first sent her to live with a family, where there was a blind girl who was 19 years old, the same age as her. The background of that blind girl is very similar to that of the character in the film. She lives in a suburb of Beijing. Dong Jie stayed with her for about two weeks. On the set of the film, we’d bring the actual blind girl to the film and let she and Dong Jie stay together. During the whole shoot, these two girls were together. We’d have the blind girl do (the scene) first and then Dong Jie do it second. I think Dong Jie memorized exactly what it was like (to be blind). So after the film was shot and finished, Dong Jie kept staring (like a blind girl). We had to clap our hands and tell her that the film was finished [laughs].

How was the film received in China?

It was first shown in 2000. The audiences liked it very much. Also, the actor (Zhao Benshan) is the most famous comedian in China and people like him very much, especially in the north of China.

You work in many different genres and styles, choosing new ones with every film it seems. Is that something you do deliberately, to keep challenging yourself as a filmmaker?

Yes, I want to work in different genres and different styles. When I am choosing the scripts, if I think I have already done this genre I will give up (on it).

When you’re taking on a new genre, what is your preparation process to get yourself in the right frame of mind for the project? Do you watch tons of your favorite films from that genre, for instance?

Not necessarily. Like my new film, Hero, is a kung-fu movie. When I was shooting that, I never saw any kung-fu movies. I just wanted it to come from my own ideas.

What can you tell us about the story of Hero?

It’s totally different from the other kung-fu movies from Hong Kong. The story is my own. I don’t think I will tell you too much yet [laughs]. There are lots of kung-fu novels I have read, but they’re all very similar. So I gave up (on adapting a book) and I’m just making my own (story). I hope my choices will be unique. Happy Times is very natural, quite realistic, and simple. But Hero is very spectacular. The film will be finished in August of this year. I think it’s a good movie and that you’ll enjoy it. [laughs].

How much of a challenge was it to direct the kung-fu choreography for the first time on Hero?

My biggest problem (with the choreography) was adjusting my imagination to the fact that people only have two hands and can’t do that, that, and that (mimics someone kicking and chopping rapidly in a bunch of different directions). I have hired the most famous kung-fu designer from Hong Kong, but still, when they begin to fight it’s quite different from my imagination. The biggest difficulty was to adjust my imagination to realistic action. I’ve loved kung-fu novels from childhood.

All of your films have very strong female characters. Is that something you consciously look for when choosing your new material or has it just turned out this way?

This is something I do consciously. For example, Happy Times originally didn’t have a female character (in the short story) but I added one.

Have any of your films that were banned in China, such as To Live and Raise the Red Lantern, ever been seen there?

To Live is still banned.

And Raise the Red Lantern?

It had been banned for 2 or 3 years but now it’s available.

Are fewer films banned these days in China?

It’s hard to say because there’s no direction at the censorship.... it still comes to the authorities, their angles. You know, the censorship in China is very general. It’s not that detailed in the laws. For example, they will say “It has a bad effect on society.” But I don’t understand what kind of bad effect. So it totally depends on the authorities from censorship.

The first time you applied to the Beijing Film Academy, you weren’t accepted. Did you think you might never become a filmmaker at that point or were you going to find a way to do it no matter what?

I knew nothing about film at the beginning. (When I didn’t get into the Beijing Film Academy ) I thought about physical education, even the agricultural college was in my mind. I was like the common audience, I knew nothing about film. (Then) I was incidentally admitted to the film school, I was the oldest one. The average age for admittance was 18-22. I was 28 when I was in the cinematography department. The other classmates were around 18. I was ten years older and quite embarrassed. But the classroom next to us was for directors, and the age in there was 18-26. So I thought maybe that would fit for me. The people there were old (laughs), about the same age as me. When I was a sophomore, I changed to be a director. I felt more comfortable with that. I wasn’t sure I had a special interest in directing, I just thought the age should be the same [laughs]. I asked the students in the directing class for a list of books on directing and they gave me a list of about 40 or 50 books. I borrowed all of those books and read all of them, along with some scripts. So gradually I changed to a director.

Zhang Ziyi has become very famous in the United States from her role in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000). But you discovered her while directing your film The Road Home. How did that come about?

When we were shooting The Road Home, we were looking for a new face around 18 or 19 years old. A typical Chinese girl’s face. Zhang Ziyi was a sophomore at university with no experience in acting. We had auditioned her twice, and when she was photographed, I thought she looked good. Much in the same way we trained Dong Jie for Happy Times, we sent Zhang Ziyi to live with a farmer’s family. They let her stay there for one month. They let her learn cooking and stay with the housewives. After we finished that film, all the Chinese audiences began to know Zhang Ziyi. When Ang Lee was shooting Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, he went to China and wanted an actress from 18-20 years of age. And Ang called me and I told him, “The people you are all looking at now have already been examined by me.” So I suggested that he see Zhang Ziyi.

A lot of film writers in China refer to your generation of Chinese filmmakers as “The Fifth Generation”. Do you think of that as just a label or does your generation of filmmakers really have a lot in common other than your age?

I think it’s only a label. From the beginning we may have had some similarities, but now we are different. The critics just make that up and label them. The Sixth Generation. The Seventh Generation. It’s only a title.