Which term do you think best describes the Chinese
director, Li Yang: ‘marginal’, ‘sixth generation’, ‘new
realist’, ‘independent,’ or ‘underground’? Explain your reasoning with
reference to these Chinese terms and the Chinese context.
Within the midst of China’s transition
from a socialist, intensely state-controlled country to one with a free,
decentralized market, simple economic and social labels such as “independent”
and “marginal” are constantly being redefined in what Ying Zhu refers to as an
environment with a ‘continual evolution of the relationship among the forces of
commerce, art, and politics.’[1]
In this immensely complex post-socialist China the attempt of choosing one
label as more appropriate than the other is even more challenging as, as Shujen
Wang puts it, ‘the boundaries between state and market, commerce and art, and
art and politics, are increasingly blurred.’[2]
An
“independent film”, although there are disputes regarding the details of a
perfect definition, Mark Lipsky’s attempt is, ‘an independent film is one where
the investors have absolutely no expectation of recouping their investment,
much less earning a profit from it.’[3]
This is essentially an economic identification of a film but with artistic consequences.
Without the pressure of market forces the need to pander to certain target
audiences does not exist, auteurs can flourish, and cinematic conventions do
not need to be adhered to. It most definitely seems that that an economic
independence is synonymous with an artistic freedom.
A
privately funded feature film outside the major studio system in China whilst
having the economically “independent” label does not necessarily mean it has
the same artistic freedoms. The brutal domestic market, already competing with
Hollywood, leaves impossible pressures on independent films so that ‘international
exposure and acclaim are often essential… to provide the necessary funding for
the filmmaker’s next project.’[4]
The State Administration of Radio, Film and Television (SARFT) regulates what
is able to leave the country establishing what Perry Link has described as an ‘enforced
self-censorship,’[5] a
pre-emptive compromise of content to allow for an international audiences.
However, Li Yang braved the Chinese government by exporting Blind Shaft without permission or
censorship perhaps warranting the “independent” label all the more. Despite
personal risk to Li Yang, Blind Shaft
is an unflinching look at the corrupt and dangerous mining industry in China. Predictably,
however, the film was banned.
Nonetheless,
as Shuqin Cui states, ‘faced with socio-political and commercial pressures, few
independent directors are able to remain true to their identities and
intentions,’[6]
and it is still questionable whether Li Yang can be truly defined as “independent.”
With the very certain view of an audience and a location for their films
Chinese directors are perhaps being influenced, similar to that of a Hollywood
director being influenced by a mainstream public, by the art-house audiences. An
aesthetic narrow mindedness develops in order to conform to what Jason McGrath
refers to as a ‘long-take realism that became prominent in global film
festivals and art-house circuit by the late 1990s.’[7]
Ironically, it is perhaps the expectations of the “independent” label that are
exactly what deprive the Chinese filmmakers of their freedom. Blind Shaft is no exception, the
ubiquitous use of diegetic music, non-professional actors, long takes, and
location shooting are all part of the popularised style within
the art-house film and festival community.
This
brings into question the way people, domestic and international, received Blind Shaft and its social context;
whether it falls into the “marginal” or “underground” category. Once again
there are disputes regarding exact definitions, Noel Lawrence’s attempt is, ‘Underground
film is not a genre. It is a form of resistance to dominant cultural paradigms.
And what bestows underground status must occur in the specific circumstances of
a historical moment.’[8] Underground
cinema is generally associated with exploitation films and shoestring budgets,
notions of being “hidden” and “transgressive,” with no desire to break into the
mainstream. At first glance this seems ideal, Blind Shaft challenges the Chinese government with social satire,
at its most explicit during a karaoke scene where Tang, one of the lead roles,
sings “Long Live Socialism.” The scenes involving prostitution, the markets and
the miners eating and drinking together are all detailed depictions of the
“specific circumstances” of working-class living conditions in contemporary
China, and, as well as this, the miniature privately funded budget,
aesthetically mirrored in the complete lack of steady-cams and tripods, points
towards the typical attributes of an underground film.
Another
seemingly obvious point towards Li Yang’s “underground” status is ‘the “sub”
mode of distribution [that] denotes the underground,’[9]
what Ying Zhu is referring to is the almost exclusive circulation of Blind Shaft through pirated discs. Being
banned and then proceeding to spread illicitly would be an achievement to any
aspiring “underground” filmmaker. One must, however, bring China back into the
equation. What I have already established is the hyper-capitalist environment that
eliminates the second mode of distribution, the art house film circuit, (the
first being commercial multiplexes, and the third, or sub, mode of distribution
being the pirated discs). Ying Zhu continues by remarking quite flatly that
‘non-mainstream films such as Li Yang’s… cannot exist in an exclusively
commercial market,’[10] films that
‘appeal neither to the party nor the popular market.’[11]
Li Yang therefore had no other choice but to rely on both the underground
spread and international audiences.
This
is where the “marginal cinema” label becomes more appropriate; it is less of an
attained status and more of a product of an environment. There is an impression
that “marginal” cinema is marginalized
rather than being it inherently. Indeed, when one compares how Li Yang fares in
the international market his underground status rapidly dissolves. The film was
celebrated at the Berlin International Film Festival, a venue of theatrical
distribution, winning the “Silver Bear” award. As well as this Li Yang states
that, ‘my film is set in China but the story could have occurred in Germany,
the US or in Australia… The basic theme is universal,’[12]
‘themes of defeat, poverty, and desperation,’[13]
undermining any notion of a Chinese specificity and indicative of a desire to
be at least slightly populist. So whilst Li Yang could be categorized as
“underground,” the desire to transcend the label and reach the people of China
is easily observed, he says remorsefully in his interview with Stephen Teo that
‘the film is not considered a Chinese film.’[14]
Stephen Teo beautifully phrases this dichotomy between Li Yang’s desire to
reach his domestic market but his inability to do so, paired with an acceptance
abroad both stylistically and thematically as ‘Li [having] the mind of an
outsider with the heart of an insider.’[15]
Once
again, it is contemporary China’s complexities that prove to be the
marginalizing force, not only through its harsh economic climate or even
through its brutal censorship, but because of it’s ‘long history and continuing
preference… for a visual representation that accentuates the positive rather
than exposing or dwelling on the negative.’[16]
This is where the artistic labels of “sixth generation” and “new realist” come
into play. The distinction between “new realist” and simply “realist” is very
important to understanding the label as a marginalising force.
Confucius and Mao both considered art a tool to carry across ideological
messages of the state, and “socialist realism” emerged as the prominent style
of that era. Jason McGrath comments that ‘in contrast, the postsocialist
realism… rather than professing to show an ideological truth that underlies
apparent reality, seeks to reveal a raw, underlying reality by stripping away
the ideological representations that distort it.’[17]
This is a somewhat shocking departure for the Chinese public not used to
such
bleak and honest depictions of their country.
Ying
Zhu goes further in saying that ‘Li’s marginal status has less to do with his
ideas than with his art… [It is] the way
he presents his ideas on screen.’[18]
This can be seen most clearly in the parallel between Liu Qingbang’s novel Shen Mu, that Blind Shaft was based on, and Blind
Shaft itself, with largely similar content. Shen Mu was not only not banned but won prestigious awards, and
broke into the mainstream, Blind Shaft,
however, remains mostly unknown by the Chinese public. This goes to show the
extent that the “new realist” style goes to transform the opinion towards what
seems to be otherwise standardized content, or in other words, ‘a view that is
[not] particularly radical.’[19]
It is the mentality that film is solely to send a message, a means of
propaganda, that makes it difficult to see Blind
Shaft as little more than film ‘made to blacken China’s image.’[20]
Despite Li Yang’s various assertions that ‘I’m not political’[21]
and ‘I wanted to reject everything that was external and beyond the frame but
to be realistic and true to life.’[22]
It is this that allows for easy comparison to the blossoming documentary films in China, there are both stylistic and thematic similarities as well as what Ban Wang calls ‘a common cause with the contemporary documentary.’[23] This cause is to depict things without judgment and with the most truth possible; ironically, it is this that makes more haunting the deaths we witness. They are all presented with the same touch of reality as the opening sequence, a long series of cuts that show the beginning of a miner’s day; all the shots at eye level, practically no dialogue, and no music. The deaths are the same, anti-climactic at best, or as Ying Zhu puts it ‘”thunk” – and you’re dead,’[24] the lack of drama holds true to the adage “the banality of evil.” Ultimately the evil is not triumphed over. This is simply the task of ‘both neo-realism and documentary seek to unearth a harsh and unwieldy reality,’[25] but with the current Chinese mentality it is difficult to see beyond that of a straight attack of the government or China in general.
It
therefore seems that the social perception of a certain aesthetic, through
years of political conditioning, makes “new realism,” what should be simply an
artistic label, a political one; the lines are irrevocably blurred. Raymond
Williams definition “realist films” as when ‘people are inseparable from their
real social and physical environments,’[26]
along the same lines Ban Wang states that ‘realism requires that experience be
seen within its real environment and characters and actions of a realist work
be shaped by that environment.’[27]
Firstly, It is clear that Li Yang does this, seen most fundamentally through his
use of frequently dangerous location shooting in mines to; one, realistically
influence the acting and, two, to show the visceral nature of the life of a mineworker
in the best place to do so. However, this harks back to the earlier definitions
of “underground” cinema, ‘what bestows underground status must occur in the
specific circumstances of a historical moment;’ and so contradictions begin to
appear, how can Li Yang be “underground,” a status that is synonymous with
being subversive and transgressive and remain ‘not political’ and ‘socially
conscious yet non-oppositional’[28]?
It
becomes clear that umbrella classifications that imperfectly bridge China’s
already bizarre mix of economics, social psychology, politics, and art only
serve to confuse. Li Yang himself expresses this in his feelings towards the
“sixth generation” label in an interview with Stephen Teo. Li Yang asserts,
‘There isn’t a sixth generation,’[29]
he states that trying to identify him as such is pointless, ‘a generation can’t
be determined by age but by a film idea that is relative.’[30]
In the same way labeling an artist based on his social status, or economic one
is unnecessary. ‘Basically each person is doing things in his own way.’[31]
Ban
Wang summarizes it perfectly, ‘it no longer makes much sense to argue about the
epistemological accuracy of documentary. If such beastly conditions are the
chronic cancer of capitalist production, and if documentary seems to be the
sharpest diagnosis around, would it be meaningful to ponder the question
whether a documentary comes close or not to the reality that it aims to
capture? Will it be leading anywhere to haggle over whether documentary
authenticity is a matter of style, image or narrative?’ he continues, ‘the
controversy over whether documentary is fiction or reproduction of reality
proves to be disingenuous. It becomes a defensive protection that diverts the
eye from the ongoing catastrophe and dissolves the ugly referent into another
feel-good simulacrum. Turning a foul-smelling reality into another sanitized
image, the documentary-as-fiction thesis plays into the hand of the global
image-making process that liquidates the reality of how the other half lives
and keeps the traces of devastated humanity out of the cloistral comforts of
the middle class living room equipped with the latest digital multimedia and
soft drinks.’[32]
[1] Ying Zhu and Stanley Rosen in their introduction to Art, Politics, and Commerce in Chinese
Cinema (published by Hong Kong University Press in 2010). Quote on page 4
[2] Shujen Wang in the essay Piracy and the DVD/VCD Market: Contradictions and Paradoxes found
in Art Politics, and Commerce in Chinese
Cinema. Quote on page 83
[3] Mark Lipsky in the essay Definition: Independent Film.
http://incitecinema.com/blog/2010/09/20/definition-independent-film/
[5] Perry Link in his introduction to Confessions: An Innocent Life in Communist
China (published by W. W. Norton in 2007). Quote on page xxi
[6] Shuqin Cui in the essay Boundary Shifting: New Generation Filmmaking and Jia Zhangke’s Films
found in Art Politics, and Commerce in Chinese Cinema. Quote on page 175
[7] Jason McGrath in Postsocialist
Modernity: Chinese Cinema, Literature, and Criticism in the Market Age (published
by Stanford University Press in 2008). Quote on 131
[8] Noel Lawrence in the essay What is Underground Film?
http://slamdance.com/What-is-UNDERGROUND-FILM-Slamdance-Anarchy-Programmers-discuss
[9] Ying Zhu in the essay Li Yang’s socially conscious film as marginal cinema- China’s
state-capital alliance and its cultural ramifications from Volume 2, Issue
2 of the Chinese Journal of
Communication (Published by Routledge in 2009). Quote on Page 221
[12] Li Yang in an interview with Jason Chan
http://www.wsws.org/articles/2003/jul2003/sff2-j18.shtml
http://sensesofcinema.com/2003/feature-articles/li_yang/
[23] Ban Wang in his essay In Search of Real-Life Images in China: realism in the age of spectacle
from Volume 17, Issue 56 of the Journal
of Contemporary China (published by Routledge in 2008). Quote on page 503
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