Fast Action, Super Feats, and Superficial Sex

I came across this interesting article from the Far Eastern Economic Review (January 23, 1969) when I was googling for information about Angela Yu Chien. It's a fascinating snapshot of Shaw Brothers' "new wuxia century", the effect that this marketing offensive had on the Chinese movie industry, and the reactions that were generated by the films' increasingly explicit portrayals of sex and violence. When the article mentioned Shaw Brothers' pandering to "Hongkong audiences' lust for fast action, super-feats and superficial sex", I couldn't help think of the studio's output during the 1970s, which pretty much consisted of that very same formula. Gone were the melodramas and musicals which reigned during the better part of the 60s. A new era of Hong Kong cinema had dawned.

A Time for Swordplay
By Elizabeth Yung

Hongkong is the home of the most voracious cinemagoers in the world but it is hardly the genius of local or foreign producers which has made them that way. In fact the recipe is frighteningly simple — just serve up lashings of gory violence and nearly half of Hongkong's near 4-million population will set the box office clicking each week. And the craving of Hongkong audiences for these ingredients is being amply satiated by the region's two main Chinese film-makers, Shaw Brothers and the Cathay Organisation.

"We are not complaining," said Shaw's Run Run Shaw recently when asked the state of the Hongkong film industry. His quote will almost certainly prove the understatement of the year. The picture, however, for Hongkong's cinema proprietors is not quite as bright. Still dreaming of the boom years of the early 1960s, cinema owners ruefully reported recently that takings last year were down to HK$150 million, a 20% drop over 1967. The blame was placed squarely on television which presents Chinese films every day.

Hardest hit were Cantonese and the more sophisticated, non-dramatic Western films. However the Mandarin swordplay epic is riding an unprecedented wave of success. Of the top 20 box-draws of 1968, 10 were Mandarin. Raymond Chow, production manager of Shaw's, explains: "Moviegoers are changing their taste. The Mandarin productions give them thrills and entertainment."

Already film fans have been treated to a series of action-packed swordplay sagas, and Shaw's, Southeast Asia's biggest film-maker, has demonstrated its confidence by announcing a production target of 52 films for 1969. Shaw's has averaged 41 films a year for the past three years. Its nearest rival, Singapore's Cathay, is hoping to improve on last year's figure of 22.

The buoyancy of Hongkong cinema can be easily gauged by the Government's takings over recent years. Entertainment tax from distributors and cinema owners in 1965 totalled $24.2 million, the following year $26.6 million. Box office sales in 1967 indicated that Shaw Brothers raked in a record gross receipt of $19 million and by November last year the 1968 figure had passed $20 million. Most frequent patrons of the Colony's 102 licensed cinemas are the 16-20 year-olds, young white collar workers, dating couples, all youngsters in a city with little else to offer them at prices they can pay.

Hongkong cinema is among the cheapest in the world. Three dollars fifty cents will buy the best seats in a first-run theatre. It costs twice as much in Japan and almost four times as much in the United States.

It becomes even more clear why Run Run Shaw is "not complaining" when it is noted that after their Hongkong runs, Shaw films then go to Taiwan, Singapore, Malaysia, the Philippines, Thailand, Cambodia and North America.

The magnetism of the Mandarin movie intensified in 1966 [it was actually 1967] with Shaw Brothers production of "The One Armed Swordsman", Hongkong's answer to Japan's "Blind Swordsman" hero, Katze. With young Wang Yu playing the lead, "The One Armed Swordsman" was an overnight success and reaped a Hongkong record of just over $1 million. Since then swordplay films have flowed at a fast clip with the blood keeping pace. Sketchy plots of family revenge have the scene for as gory a series of shots as have ever graced the celluloid. Audiences have flocked to "The Assassin" ($1.2 million), the "Sword of Swords" ($970,000), and the biggest hit of all, "Dragon Inn", a Taiwan production with a cast of unknowns. Directed by King Hu, it grossed $2.3 million, just $70,000 short of the Hongkong all-time record set by Julie Andrew's "Sound of Music".


Wang Yu picks his way through scores of corpses after a duel scene in the "Golden Swallow", described by a New York writer as "one of the bloodiest films ever released".

"Give them what they want" is the motto of Shaw's, Cathay and lesser studios, and, although the swordplay appears to be on the wane, Hongkong audiences' lust for fast action, super-feats and superficial sex is as strong as ever. Studios know they are catering mainly for an audience whose educational level is low, whose desire is not so much for appreciation but for relaxation and a trip into the land of fantasy, legendary heroism and suicidal courage.

While the James Bond epics are no longer regarded as big money-makers in the Western world, they are still assured capacity houses for weeks on end in Hongkong. Sean Connery's last outing as Agent 007 in "You Only Live Twice" was the only Western production to top a million dollars in the Colony last year. Italian shoot-'em-up "The Good, Bad and the Ugly", a western in which only the audience survived, was close on its heels. Multi-million-dollar musical, "Doctor Doolittle", did next to nothing — a paltry $370,000 worth — while another lavish Western musical, "The Star", lost its shine after two days.

There's no doubt that Hongkong's movie-makers are accurately tuned to the demands of the public and, but for the censor's eyes, would satisfy the most extreme demands of the apparent bloodlust of Hongkong's generally placid population. However, while local film-makers appear to set no limit on the violence gimmick, they are aware that when it comes to "morals" they are catering for a more reserved community.

Five Chinese officers in the Hongkong Government Information Services wield the censorship scissors. Basing their judgement on content, audience reaction, and religious, moral and political considerations, they ask themselves: Is there any reason why this film should not be seen int its entirety? More specifically the films should NOT: encourage public disorder; offend allies and friends of Hongkong (and, in the recent case of the US production of "The Chairman", touchy neighbours); show disrespect for the law, social institutions or head of state; encourage crime. Secretary to the Censorship Board is GIS Director, Nigel Watt, who considers the Board's policy "liberal", claiming that "artistic and moral cuts are few". Some local producers are not so sure, having had some of their most thrilling sequences clipped because of their alleged extreme violence. But, an article, while approving the Board's liberalism, can be quote as supporting the "liberal" tag. A New York Weekly Review writer said of Shaw's big hit, "The Golden Swallow": "The nauseating degree of violence and bloodshed in this film recommends it only for sadistic, exploitation situations... One of the bloodiest films ever released." The West these days, it seems, shudders at the sight of blood but has few scruples about providing its own ever-increasingly permissive society with even the finer details of a bedtime entanglement. When, in the Taiwan Government's eyes, the swordplay era began to get out of hand, it introduced a measure governing censorship of such films: they were not to depict "limbs torn apart" or "the gushing of blood at the impact of weapons".

Shaw's has shown signs recently of combining "permissiveness" with swordplay but so far it has had little success. In "Death Valley", Shaw's made its first firm venture into more revealing bed and bath scenes (provoked probably by Terry Bourke's revelations in his marathon "Sampan"). The scenes are still in the film but the bath is now only a quick dip and the bout on the bed little more than 40 winks. Generally Nigel Watt appears justified in his description of the Censorship Board and the record for the year ending March 31, 1968, helps bear him out. Of 5,925 films submitted only 41 were rejected and 42 cut.


Yueh Hua casually stands by as Angela Yu Chien bathes in "Death Valley". Shaw's attempt to bring a little "permissiveness" into its productions was pruned by Hongkong's censors.

Hongkong's "golden years" of cinema began early this decade and, hopping on the the band-wagon, Shaw Brothers made its debut with two sound stages and only 200 staff. Today it has 10 stages, 1600 employees, a stable of horses, and the biggest and most lavish studio lot outside of Hollywood. At a fast clip, Run Run and his brother, Runme, have rung up eight successful years. They have a chain of 231 cinemas in Malaysia and Singapore, nine amusement parks and two other film studios, and have a production rate which puts Hongkong third in the world after India and Japan.

The rate at which films are turned out at Shaw's Clearwater Bay studio is little short of astounding. At any time of the year there are between 6 and 16 being shot at budgets which would make a Hollywood producer cry: a coloured Mandarin feature usually costs between $500,000 and $1 million, a Cantonese production about $300,000 (an average Hollywood film costs about $18 million). And films in Hongkong are started and finished in about the time it takes Liz Taylor to throw a tantrum. A director, even at the top of the local tree, earns only about $40,000 a film and, by using "unknowns" galore working 10 hours a day, every day, under light temperatures soaring over 100F degrees, and by hiring "known" actors and actresses on year-long contracts rarely exceeding $200,000, there is plenty left in the budget for stage sets and location work.

Shaw Brothers recently completed its own $3 million four-storey colour laboratory with a processing capacity of 750 feet a second. Now, instead of sending all colour film for processing in Japan, Shaw's can do it on the spot, much more quickly and far cheaper. Now, with the Far East (particularly Southeast Asia) sewn up, Shaw's is looking further afield for markets for its productions. It has built a theatre in Honolulu and has leased theatres in New York, Los Angeles and Vancouver to cater to the substantial Chinese communities in those areas.

Early in the Shaw story, the Cathay Organisation (formerly Motion Picture and General Investment Company) was a strong rival. But in 1964, with the death of its top man, Dato Loke Wan Tho, in a Taiwan plane crash, the challenge fell away. Cathay lost several top producers, some to rival studios, others trying to "go it alone". But recently Cathay has been showing signs of hitting the comeback trail. Early last year there were rumours that Shaw's and Cathay were about to become one. But this, apparently, was the last thought in the minds of Cathay directors. In a spate of hiring, Cathay signed up new directors and script writers and recruited a squad of youngsters (stars of tomorrow?) from Taiwan. The first major blow in Cathay's revival came with "The First Sword", released in late 1967. And in 1969 Cathay has set its sights on a target of 30 films, eight more than last year.

In addition to the giants, there are six small independent companies in Hongkong producing Cantonese films and more than 50 similar organisations making local and other Asian films. Film-makers can look forward with confidence for orders for their products. With the Hongkong and Kowloon Theatres Association president, Chiang Oi-man, predicting further falls in box-office takings over the next few years, cinema owners are sure to plump for the type of movie still regarded as a certain money-maker — the Mandarin production especially — rather than the more sophisticated and widely-hailed productions from the West. If it's violence Hongkong's cinemagoers want, that's what they'll get. You might call the makers' earnings "blood money".