words rachel mok

Zhang Yibai is neither lost nor indulgent in his latest city savvy movie

Confident, smartly dressed, at ease both texting on his iPhone and diplomatically answering repetitive questions from a gaggle of journalists, 45-year-old film director Zhang Yibai could be a successful big-city PR man. Which, in a sense, is fitting as he is well known for poetic yet authentic portrayals of modern urban life in China: Born in Chongqing, based in Beijing and a fan of Hong Kong films, Zhang is a teller of city tales.

He is one of the leading figures of China’s ‘sixth generation’ directors alongside the likes of Jia Zhang-ke (Still Life, The World) and Lou Ye (Suzhou River, Summer Palace), though Zhang, who began his career directing commercials and music videos, is more successful at balancing commercial and artistic values. As he says, “A film must be enjoyable. It cannot be an explanation of your idea or concept.” That belief was put to the test by Chinese authorities in his latest offering Lost Indulgence, in which a taxi driver, Wu (Eric Tsang), steers his car into a river and dies.His passenger and the survivor of the tragedy, nightclub girl Sudan (Karen Mok), moves in with Wu’s widow, Fanny (Jiang Wenli), and her son, Kawa (Tan Jianci). Things get complicated when Kawa develops a crush on her and simultaneously tries to unveil the secret behind his father’s death. To pass Chinese censorship, certain erotic scenes between Karen Mok and Tan Jianci in the film had to be cut. Zhang says in terms of the validity of the film, that was a minor adjustment. “If the cut of a shot or a scene will make the film incomplete, there is a problem with the director during the filming,” he says. “A good film – and a good story – must stand by itself from the beginning till the end. Even if one or two shots are cut, it will still be an enjoyable film.”

Lost Indulgence is set in Chongqing, one of the three ‘furnaces’ in China (the other two being Wuhan and Nanjing), the city’s name referring to the intensity of its summer heat. But, although Zhang is trying to capture urban heat, it is not so much an out-of-control thermometer he has in mind as the emotional heat generated by people cohabiting an enclosed space. “People getting on with each other create tension. When I directed the cast I told them just act in a natural way as how they are reacting to the weather,” he says. “There is no need to be sweating all over your face. I need the dizzy atmosphere, not the temperature.”

Chongqing itself was the spur for the film. In the industrialization and changes in China in recent years, all major cities are becoming the same, Zhang says with a sigh – only Chongqing manages to keep its character. The city reminds him of his first visit to Hong Kong in 1994. “My first impression was, ‘There are so many buildings!’”Nevertheless, the city’s densely packed structures and ubiquitous lights stimulated his imagination. “I started thinking, ‘What kinds of people live inside these buildings? What stories happen in these families every day?’” And although he is used to the city now, the question of all the secrets the buildings might conceal still nags at him.

The film made its international premiere at the 7th New York Tribeca Film Festival, and was the only Chinese film nominated in the World Narrative Feature Competition. Zhang looks forward to seeing how it will do in Hong Kong and the Mainland when its released this month, but in the meantime he is already looking at his next project: He has been thinking of his own tale of two cities, a love story between a couple based in Hong Kong and Beijing. It wasn’t so long ago he discovered how interested he really is in Hong Kong cinema. “One time I was shooting a commercial and met a Hong Kong cinematographer. He was embarrassed to tell me he had made a lot of crappy films so I asked him to name them,” Zhang recalls. “He named the films he had made and I was like, ‘Yes, I watched this’ and ‘Yes, I watched that too’… That’s when I realized I have watched too many Hong Kong films!”

A “crazy and cheap” comedy is another project he has in mind. Followers of the director may notice that each of his works fits a different genre – from romance (Spring Subway) and thriller (Curiosity Kills a Cat) to the coming-of-age Lost Indulgence, Zhang’s talent ranges widely. “I think I am very clever,” he says, half jokingly. “A comedy must be cheap. The comedy in China is not cheap or trashy enough.” But then, it seems Chinese cinema is trying to be recognizable to an international audience (and festival juries) with mega-Hollywood style blockbusters, or rural movies with political/socio-economic overtones. ‘City films’ – like those Zhang is making – are neglected.
“That is why I think the Olympics opening was great. It shows the world China is not a farming village anymore. The days of pastorale are gone and will never come back,” – the Chongqing native believes the international audience needs to accept that China is embracing globalization. “If people still think China is a little city in Shanxi or a big courtyard hanging red lanterns… it is their problem, not ours. There is nothing more I can say, right? I can’t spend loads of time explaining to people what China is like.”

But then what does he have to say about the rash of awful mainland ‘blockbusters’ we have seen in recent years? Zhang admits, “Every director has a dream for big picture. No director will say no to a $100 million budget film and say ‘I only want $2 million.’” Of course, he has his own ideas for a Zhang Yibai epic – but just now no one is interested in investing. Maybe in 10 years? “Five years! I am waiting for Lost Indulgence to be a success and then I will get $100 million to make my own blockbuster!” And the director laughs.