Taiwan's movie industry is at last being smiled on by the powers that be, after endless debate on how to save itself. President Lee Teng-hui has personally given time to the matter, and parliamentarians have launched a succession of public hearings aimed to chart the future survival of the movies. But even this level of support has not matched the impact of the recent reshuffle at the Central Motion Picture Corporation (CMPC), the leading cinema organization in Taiwan after six or seven years of commercial output.
The director of the Motion Picture Library, Hsu Li-kung, has become CMPC vice president and manager of film production, while Chiang Feng- chi, former head of Social Affairs at the Ministry of the Interior has become CMPC President. Since taking up their posts both have initiated a series of measures designed to resuscitate film in Taiwan and nurture the necessary talent. The first is to get away from the making of movies intended for video consumption. "The CMPC is committed to making good quality cultured art films" says Hsu, "and at the same time producing excellent commercial works, as well as improving planning and publicity, to provide the best promotion available." With this as the goal, the company has invited Ke I-cheng and Wan Jen back to direct new films, and is also having the film Push Hands--dealing with the generation gap and the 'overseas complex' of Chinese abroad--completed independently in New York by a team brought together by Li An, holder of a masters degree in cinema from New York University. "This is a largely experimental picture," stresses Hsu, "and its makers are all professionals. On the one hand they can put their shared cinematic principles into practice, and on the other hand can gain experience of independent movie-making in the States."
The CMPC's support for new films is demonstrated in its support for new works by new faces, and in cooperation with television on production of mini-series and individual hour-long dramas. The company's efforts to bring its films before a world audience will begin with collaboration with talented directors and technical talent from Hong Kong.
Ten years ago it was the CMPC that led the way for the new cinema movement in Taiwan. In 1980 the authors Wu Nien-chen and Hsiao Yeh were signed up, and they set their sights on improving the movie industry, in the conviction that "with movies this bad, it should be possible to make them a little better." As Wu recalls, the more discerning audiences had all been driven off by slapdash kung-fu flicks and tedious love stories. The studios seemed helpless to haul themselves out of the slump, then CMPC released In Our Time, an experimental low-budget film in four sections, by a new director. It was to be a ray of light for cinema in Taiwan at a time of darkness.
Film-makers like Hsu Ke and Hsu An-hua began an overhaul of traditional techniques, with full support from Ming Chi, CMPC general manager at the time, and inspired by the arrival in Taiwan of new wave Hong Kong movies from 1979 on. The added impetus of the video boom brought classic European films into reach, and one by one new directors began to emerge using new forms. Critic Huang Chien-yeh notes that in addition to increased use of amateurs to play characters, and skilled use of the long shot and depth of field to capture emotions, "the content of the new films was very different from before. Themes about the growth of youth and women, past experience, native identity and social change all became material to work with. A new audience was drawn to cinema in response, and the critics gave their support."
As it happened, society was ripe for the arrival of new cinema. Chen Kuo-fu, chief reviewer of Image Keeper Monthly explains: "With newspapers still under restrictions during the 1980s, cinema was both a part of the news media and the entertainment industry, and was thus a key means for intellectuals to challenge the newspaper ban." This was seen in the controversy surrounding the film The Sandwich Man which came under anonymous attack for its true-to-life portrayals, and drew big audiences as a result. Highly experienced editor Liao Chingsung, who has worked with all the new directing talent, remarks: "Society was just entering a better off phase, and with basic living requirements taken care of the audiences wanted to have more information." The new directors were on the scene to present social and historical aspects hitherto ignored or considered taboo, at the same time as providing something for the new urban middle classes to spend their money on and talk about.
Regrettably, the honeymoon period for new films in Taiwan lasted only about three years before its collapse. Some say that audiences were finally put off by all the sham "new cinema" movies that came out, made in the same old shoddy way. Some suggest that audiences were confused by the contention between different schools of critics over the worth of the new films. Some believe that box office inevitably dropped as filmgoers wearied of the similar styles of new directors. Still others claim that the end of bans on newspapers and political parties meant that the movies no longer had a monopoly on handling certain taboos, so audiences no longer came out of curiosity alone.
As the decline set in, the studios began yelling "cut!" to the new directors, whose names became box office dirt. Some of them left the industry altogether. Tao Te-chen moved with his family to South Africa, Tseng Chuang-hsiang went back into teaching and Chang Yi took up ceramics. Others stepped into advertising or television, such as Ke I-cheng and Chen Kun-hou who set up their own media company.
Hou Hsiao-hsien and Edward Yang were the only survivors, holding out as directors by sheer grit and determination. Hou's City of Sadness won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival in 1989, and back home it nearly outstripped the box-office record held by Jackie Chen for his action pictures. The critics, quiet for so long, could not contain their enthusiasm. In 1987, the meticulously working Edward Yang received the domestic Golden Horse Award for best picture, for his film The Terrorist. A full four years later his next film The Youth of Ku-ling Street, is making a stir before it even hits the screens, and the Japanese and European rights to the film have been sold for US$600,000 and US$200,000 respectively.
Does this mean a lifeline for the international aspirations of movies in Taiwan, and do the CMPC's plans mean that the second wave of new cinema has arrived? Chiao Hsiung-ping is not optimistic: "That is just an individual achievement. The overall situation is still grim." Hsiao Yeh, who was once with CMPC and devoted much effort to the promotion of new cinema, is even more adamant: "This has nothing at all to do with new cinema, it's a flash in the pan," because the cultivation of film-makers alone is inadequate for raising standards throughout cinema, when "the whole cultural and educational environment has been static for so long, without any improvement. New cinema is a flower that bloomed too soon." continues Hsiao, "and its wilting was inevitable."
There are also those who question why it is that the studios should want to rely on impetus provided by a public organization like the CMPC, as they did for the first wave of new cinema. In other countries, notably the highly commercially developed US and Japan, film companies are systematic and scientific about everything from planning through to promotion of their pictures, guiding production and targeting audiences through scrupulous market analysis. Their high-entertainment commercial successes can underwrite the independent production of more experimental art films that make a name in the international movie festivals.
In Taiwan, it is not only the studios that need to reconsider their methods, but movie houses too. Audiences are progressively deterred by shabby auditoriums, poor quality projection equipment and lack of service. On the production front, crudely fashioned films reflect deficiencies in the quality of technical personnel, poor equipment and standards of film processing, bad dubbing and uneven acting talent. Chiao Hsiung-ping notes gravely: "If the overall environment does not improve, the CMPC alone will not be able to drag the industry up."
Director Chen Kun-hou is optimistic about the reappearance of Wan Jen and Ke I-cheng, saying: "The initial crisis for new cinema was really a phase of learning for the new directors--a director of substance needs to mature through a long period of development. Everyone has stopped in the last two years and had a chance to reflect, building up material for the future and considering how to satisfy the commercial requirements of the business without losing one's own ideals. It might not be a bad thing, having to slowly grope one's way forward in this way!"
The movies are the most commercialized of all cultural activities because of the huge costs and precise division of labor involved. Some film companies have discovered for themselves how to utilize modern commercial techniques, like Era Films, whose owner Chiu Fu-sheng used an idea of marketing expert Chan Hung-chi's to promote City of Sadness, launching the film domestically on the strength of its status as an international award winner. More recently the Eagle International Film Corporation has attempted to better understand audience tastes by commissioning a questionnaire survey of filmgoers nationwide. Just as Chiao Hsiung-ping and Hsiao Yeh have said, we cannot hope for another CMPC-led miracle for movies in Taiwan, but enough of these small steps in the right direction should get us there in the end.
[Picture Caption]
The Sandwich Man was the first film adapted from a realist Taiwanese novel. (photo courtesy of Film Library of the Motion Picture Development Foundation)
Film editors give vitality and unity to a movie. The director "gives birth" to the picture, while the editor guides it to "adulthood."
The film industry is getting better at corporate management and commercial marketing techniques, with the importance of planning and publicity ever increasing. Passersby in the picture have stopped to read about anew film.
The Sandwich Man was the first film adapted from a realist Taiwanese novel. (photo courtesy of Film Library of the Motion Picture Development Foundation)
Film editors give vitality and unity to a movie. The director "gives birth" to the picture, while the editor guides it to "adulthood.".
The film industry is getting better at corporate management and commercial marketing techniques, with the importance of planning and publicity ever increasing. Passersby in the picture have stopped to read about anew film.