Having returned from America a month ago, Lu Hsiao-fen is studying English at home every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning before going to work out at the gym. The former forges ahead from where her studies in America left off, and the latter gets her body in shape for acting again.

San Francisco's "Lu Hsiao-fen Day": "Ever since I was young I hated studying English, so going to America was like starting from scratch. You can't imagine how drenched in sweat I was every day in class. As soon as I heard the teacher say 'Monica,' I'd turn numb from head to foot. I must have lost a lot of cells! I was so nervous--really frightened to death!"

Taking a break from films for a year and a half, leading lady Lu Hsiao-fen took English language and acting classes at San Francisco State and Stanford. She speaks of the "terror" of her first days in class, when she communicated by gesticulation and poorly accented pigeon English, but she was at the same time excited and very happy.

It's not surprising that her agent, Hsia Yu-shun, emphasizes that in this year and a half a succession of honors were bestowed on Lu: She was awarded a "Special Achievement Award" at the Asia-Pacific Film Festival; the California state government gave her an "Outstanding International Artist Award"; she joined the likes of Mikhail Gorbachev when the city of San Francisco named a day (October 16) in her honor; and after Lincoln University's board of trustees saw some of her important performances, it gave her an honorary doctorate to follow up on the one it bestowed on Katherine Hepburn. But to Lu Hsiao-fen, these honors are not as important in giving her life grounding and in lifting her spirits as were her experiences as a student. "An honorary doctorate is indeed an honor, but it didn't come from myself. I definitely don't think that putting on a cap and gown is enough to get you through life."

The small circle of the film world: Lu Hsiao-fen has always been oversensitive and insecure. She is frightened of flying. As soon as the plane lifts off, her palms get sweaty. Unfortunately, it just so happens that actresses don't lead stable lives.

Listen to what she has to say:

"You may not know this, but few people pay attention to or care about other people in the film industry. And it's particularly frightening to be an actor or actress. There's always the pressure of the box office. If the box office receipts are poor this time, perhaps there won't be a next time. Every day you've got to put on your make-up, and then there porters will come, and it's 'hurry up, you're going to be late. . . .' The world is as small as the view out your window; it's really empty and terrifying. . . . I've often thought that it would be great just to be able to sit in peace and read a newspaper. In the past, my only desire was to be a good actress--winning awards was my only goal. But after I worked hard and actually won them, I discovered that it was only a temporary success, and I didn't know how to go on. Movies had become a big question mark for me. I'd get tired of thinking about it, and I was always frustrated." Being interviewed at home, Lu is talking a bit fast and in a somewhat disorganized manner, but she is not at all the inarticulate dumb broad she is on the tube. "Going to study in America was really a breath of fresh air," she says. "Just what the doctor ordered."

In America she became just another foreign student named "Monica." Every Sunday, she and her classmates would each pitch in US$10 and would go to Chinatown to haggle, buy food and then happily cook it up. Besides school work, everyone would chat about life and describe their future plans. Some people wanted to get a master's, others wanted to marry. . . "Isn't that department store having a sale now?" . . . "How can you prepare your taxes to pay the least?" . . . . "Everyone spoke truthfully. It was very healthy and relaxed," Lu Hsiaofen stresses.

Descending from on high: What made a particularly deep impression on her was that no one was like the film crowd or press in Taiwan, continually getting her measurements for a story. Her classmates from other countries didn't know who she was until she started winning local honors, and then they made her a special poster in congratulations. When she saw it on the campus, she was deeply moved, and she brought it back to Taiwan to treasure at her side. Although her English was poor, with her teachers encouraging her as they would a child, she no longer feared class.

In contrast, while she had previously won acting awards, the film crowd never missed a chance to make the most of her clothes, her conversation or even her body. She feels that her year and a half in America was the first time she was really liked and treated with sincerity, and this gave her back her dignity.

For most people, going abroad to study wouldn't be worth going on an on about, but for a movie star to cast aside current success, to turn her back on all the favors owed people, to shoot no films and not fear being pushed aside by the continual waves of new faces--that takes unusual courage.

Don't look back: In 1981 the singer Lu Hsiao-fen started acting in movies. Appearing in Shanghai Social File, she was hot overnight. Although it was written by a mainland playwright as a political critique and Lu made a deep impression on viewers by showing her character's stubborn resistance to the hand she was dealt in life, the film's promotion and the media focused on one scene of Lu cutting her breasts. While this did indeed make her a star, she was pigeon-holed for woman-revenger roles in films of the social realist genre. In her films, she was always being mistreated or hunted down or was seeking revenge. And promotions of these films always focused on her body.

As an overnight sensation, Lu, used to a simple life, had no time to adjust to life in the fast lane. It was either struggle with being designated as a beautiful and captivating star or lose acting opportunities. She isn't a slick talker, her Mandarin has a bit of a Taiwanese accent, and her clothes aren't the most fashionable. This has all given her cause to dread the spotlight during award ceremonies and television shows, where others have had their laughs at her expense.

"She wasn't like some celebrities, who can laugh off rumors or sarcasm without having it affect them. She got deeply hurt by this sort of thing," says Yu Yeh-ying, the assistant director of the China Times' cultural center. He recalls with sympathy Lu Hsiao-fen in her early twenties, a woman of shaky self-esteem.

Self-confidence doesn't come easy: Lu makes it obvious that her experiences and feelings in those early days are off limits. As soon as someone brings up those days, Lu will abruptly change the subject. "She has always been very sensitive about the media, very nervous. She deeply fears that reporters are going to hurt her by twisting her words," says her agent Hsia. "Why can't you guys talk about the awards she's won or about how hard she works?"

To leave her past behind and get good roles, she has indeed continued working hard.

Nine years ago when she knew that Huang Chun-ming's novel A Flower in the Raining Night was going to be made into a movie, she offered her company to appear in one film without pay if they let her take the role of Paimei on this outside film (which she took at well below her regular fee). Her sincerity finally moved the Montage Film Company, and she won a Golden Horse for Best Actress for her performance. After wards, she was even more selective about her roles. In Osmanthus Alley she played one character from youth to old age; in A Woman and Seven Husbands she played a dark and rough woman from the lower classes; and in Song of the Exile she played a middle-age Japanese housewife. "She's worked so hard at playing down her looks," says Hsia Yu-shun angrily. "Why do people use 'sexy' to sum her up."

On and off screen: Hard work eventually has its rewards. Besides the Golden Horse, she also separately won the Best Actress Award at the 33rd and 34th Asian-Pacific Film Festivals for Osmanthus Alley and Spring Swallow. While her acting career was by then on a solid footing, she was growing ever more anxious and lost off the silver screen.

"Every time she went on TV, she'd be very nervous," says the famous television show hostess Chang Hsiao-yen. "As soon as the lights went on, her hands would start to shake." Chang recalls that when she first appeared on TTV as an unknown singer no older than 17 or 18, she had no burdens and was happy and smiling, relatively at ease and full of confidence.

By temporarily leaving the film world and going to study in America, LuHsiao-fen wasn't sure about whether or not she would return to her profession. But in her acting classes, she discovered that acting really was what she loved most, and the ease with which she applied for schools and the awards she received all proved once more that her biggest talents lay in this area. Although she turned down eight films over the past year or so, she says with confidence, "I don't want to get out of acting; I want to walk farther down that road."

Drama as the dream of life: Since she was small, Lu has adored the actress Vivian Leigh. "Where does such beauty, such flawless perfection come from?" In America, she saw Gone with the Wind again. The self-destructive end that Vivian Leigh met in real life gave Lu a great realization--if every year you don't fortify the soul and give grounding to one's life, as soon as your looks and the applause fades, you will become panic-stricken and destructive.

Now that she has come back, Lu has decided that she doesn't want to work so hard again. "In a lifetime, it's enough to get the big things right." She's willing to throw herself into the domestic film industry at a time when it is struggling, but as for time and energy spent cultivating connections, "No matter how much effort you spend, you won't get anything for it." Lu believes that the person she reads about in the press isn't her, that no one truly understands her.

Returning to Taiwan and her career as an actress, she can't help but consent to interviews and appearances on variety shows. Besides going to the studio for recording, she also went to her hometown of Chioufen for outdoor shots. It rained all morning and the workmen were late. As she made calls to urge the workmen to get moving, Lu got upset and complained, "Why do I come to these programs? I can't stand the shooting of them!"

When they got to Chioufen, they acted out the following scenario: After Lu Hsiao-fen is famous, she returns to her old house and elementary school and thinks of days past.

The rain didn't let up, and to Lu's side the director demonstrated where to walk and what expressions to use. As she pushed open the iron door to her old home, Lu returned. Was she acting a role or playing herself?

[Picture Caption]

"Lu Hsiao-fen has come home!" In returning to the world of film, she can't help appearing on television variety shows and being interviewed by the press.

While in America on her studies, Lu Hsiao-fen let her hair down. Lu was very happy living the simple life of a student. (photo courtesy of Lu Hsiao-fen)

Visiting her old home, Lu has eyes on the future. Lu's interests and talents still lie in film--it's just a question of having the right attitude.

While in America on her studies, Lu Hsiao-fen let her hair down. Lu was very happy living the simple life of a student. （photo courtesy of Lu Hsiao-fen）

Visiting her old home, Lu has eyes on the future. Lu's interests and talents still lie in film--it's just a question of having the right attitude.