Connie Chan Strikes Again
Time to bust out the turntable again. The following soundtrack EP for Connie Chan's 1967 film Lady Black Cat Strikes Again (黑野貓霸海揚威) is pretty typical of the eclectic world of early Cantopop, in which an American country & western hit could be casually transformed into the rousing theme song for a crimefighting Hong Kong heroine. Even the seemingly straightforward adaptation of a Spanish waltz reveals the gender-bending influence of Cantonese opera by having Connie sing as both señorita and señor.
If the cool cover art and jaunty songs catch your fancy, then check out my review of the Lady Black Cat movies, both of which are available on DVD.
黑野貓 ("Ghost Riders in the Sky")
(play song)
西班牙舞曲 ("Spanish Dance")
(play song)
真情假意 ("Wine & Tea")
(play song)
銀海風光 ("A Star is Born")
(play song)
* Back cover of the EP with Chinese lyrics
Detour
(etc.)
there was road work being done that prevented jessica and me from getting to school on time. funny how life works, right? thank you, situational irony, thank you.
there was road work being done that prevented jessica and me from getting to school on time. funny how life works, right? thank you, situational irony, thank you.
Morning
(a cup of jo)
routine: habitual or mechanical performance of an established procedure--i've got a new one.
soft green light seeps into my spacious room, landing gently on my eyelids, like a feather floating, falling on me, whispering wake up. once i am semi-alert, the coffee addiction kicks in. WHERE IS MY COFFEE? I NEED COFFEE! OKAY I WILL MAKE COFFEE! now the gurgling of the machine acts as the music to my morning. outfit selections, organization of books and things and stuff and whatever. but then, to sit. to enjoy a morning without hurry. no rush. because--i always get to school on time.
routine: habitual or mechanical performance of an established procedure--i've got a new one.
soft green light seeps into my spacious room, landing gently on my eyelids, like a feather floating, falling on me, whispering wake up. once i am semi-alert, the coffee addiction kicks in. WHERE IS MY COFFEE? I NEED COFFEE! OKAY I WILL MAKE COFFEE! now the gurgling of the machine acts as the music to my morning. outfit selections, organization of books and things and stuff and whatever. but then, to sit. to enjoy a morning without hurry. no rush. because--i always get to school on time.
Soft Film Video Jukebox: Billie Tam
Hong Kong singer Billie Tam (蓓蕾) started off singing traditional ditties and standard shi dai qu but eventually found her success with an image and style more in tune with the times. In 1964 she scored a huge hit with "Enjoy Yourself Tonight", which was subsequently featured in The Joy of Spring (1966). It's one of the "Missing Shaw Films" that I've been dying to see even more so after getting a glimpse of my favorite tomgirl Allyson Chang Yen in the video below.
Next up is a song from the Cathay film Little Matchmaker (1967). The scene shows an annoyed Zhang Yang stuck on the dance floor with an eager Fanny Fan, but the real attraction is the vivacious and foxy Miss Tam, seen here in a rare on-screen appearance.
Next up is a song from the Cathay film Little Matchmaker (1967). The scene shows an annoyed Zhang Yang stuck on the dance floor with an eager Fanny Fan, but the real attraction is the vivacious and foxy Miss Tam, seen here in a rare on-screen appearance.
The Lady Who Sells Her Shadow
After reading about my interest in Liu Qi, the "Marilyn Monroe of China", fellow retro blogger Dev Yang sent me the above cover and following article which he kindly translated from the Kong Ngee Movie Pictorial (May 1954). It's a fun and fascinating look at an apparently superb actress who's been practically forgotten nowadays.
Liu Qi—The Lady Who Sells Her Shadow
by Xiao Han
I first met Liu Qi in Shanghai. She had just left Chungking and was living with her girlfriend on the fourth floor of the luxurious Paramount Hotel. It was the hotel’s largest suite and comprised several rooms. At the time, I was close to her roommate. Although I had barely made her acquaintance, I was struck by her unique beauty: not very pretty but charming and sexy.
Her roommate once told me, “Back in Chungking, Liu Qi was a notable figure, not only because of her reputation as a stage actress but also for her people skills. But don’t think that she is the kind of socialite who sells her body for money. She’s not like those social butterflies in Shanghai.”
I watched Liu Qi’s screen debut in Shanghai, The Man Who Sells His Shadow (1948), and found both her appearance and acting quite appealing. “Quite appealing” was my pet phrase for her, because I truly believed that she had a bright future in the film industry, especially since there were a lot of mediocre actresses at the time, and she was clearly a cut above them all. However, her girlfriend once told me, “Liu Qi will not remain in the film industry forever. She has a great, beautiful dream she wants to pursue.” I was keen to know more about this dream, but my friend said it was a secret. And because I wasn’t so close to Liu Qi, I decided it would be impolite to “interrogate” my friend further.
I met Liu Qi again after I emigrated to Hong Kong. Both of us were surprised by that feeling of “old friends meeting abroad”. (To avoid any unwanted speculation, I should clarify that it was probably only myself who felt this way.) Since then we’ve had more opportunities to get to know each other. I still fondly remember the time we met on New Year’s Day in 1951 at a party thrown by the Hong Kong Actors Guild at the Nanyang Studio. I danced with her several times and asked her about herself. I adored her witty replies, one of which was: “I guess I’m finally ready to sell my shadow”. I was confused at first, but then I understood her meaning: she was ready to commit herself wholeheartedly to the Eighth Art. Indeed, don’t all actors and actresses sell their shadows?
Since resuming her career in Hong Kong, Liu Qi has played mostly supporting roles, despite the fact that she is an experienced and versatile actress. She was remarkable in several of her movies and often stole the limelight from the leading players. As a result, it’s been rumored that some of the top actresses are jealous of Liu Qi and pray that they won’t have to appear in same film with her. Unfortunately, most Hong Kong directors are only concerned with the leading lady and willingly change the script at her behest, which leaves little room for Liu Qi to demonstrate her chops. Such discrimination isn’t fair, and many people feel sorry for her. When she’s asked why, with her beauty and ability, she still hasn’t gotten the chance to become a lead actress, Liu Qi just replies with a smile. Actually, I think this situation is due to the narrow-minded belief of the industry that the “experienced and mature” type will always be the “experienced and mature” type. But thankfully producer Fung Ming-yuen recognized Liu Qi’s qualities and talent and cast her as the leading lady in his latest project, Night Homecoming, based on Cao Yu’s play "The Wilderness".
Yan Jun, currently the top actor in Hong Kong, agreed to costar with Liu Qi in this project. (Their first film together was in fact The Man Who Sells His Shadow, which was also Yan Jun’s own breakthrough as a leading man). Although I know for a fact that Liu Qi personally asked him to join the production, Yan Jun didn’t do it only as a favor. “Liu Qi is a great actress. She shouldn't be undervalued or ignored. She’s just as good as those ‘leading ladies’ out there and ought to be given more opportunities before she becomes a casualty of the star system. Liu Qi is an old friend from my Shanghai days, and it’s my duty to help her out.”
Night Homecoming is now finished, and Liu Qi's performance is extraordinary. Critically acclaimed, it’s her best since she started “selling her shadow”. Thanks to the film, Liu Qi has been recruited as the leading lady of the newly established Asia Pictures and will soon appear in two upcoming features, The Heroine and Tradition. Her future is now looking very bright indeed.
Compared to the leading ladies of other studios, Liu Qi is taller and more statuesque—and weighing in at 132 pounds, the heaviest among them. But thanks to her even proportions and exquisite curves, she looks balanced and refined, especially on the silver screen. Currently, she is undergoing an intensive exercise regimen to bring down her weight and is aiming for 125 pounds by the end of March.
Among her colleagues, Liu Qi is known as “Sister Hussy” because she is outspoken and likes to tell dirty jokes. But at work or on formal occasions, she is always gracious and well mannered. Liu Qi also loves dancing and playing mahjong. These are her only two hobbies. She holds a record for 60 consecutive rounds of mahjong. And when it comes to dancing, she has been described as “The Rival without Equal among All Men”. Once she went to the Happy Palace Club with thirteen men and danced with them nonstop for two hours. She laughed and said, “I played ‘One Woman and Thirteen Men’. What’s the big deal?”
Now, isn’t she witty?
Smoking Diva: Bai Guang
Bai Guang in A Forgotten Woman (1949)
Let me offer another nicotine-stained post to all of you aficionados out there. My old time buddy Dev Yang "hand-rolled" the following video with choice clips from Miss Bai's classic film A Forgotten Woman (1949) wrapped in a sad song "The Past is Like Smoke" from her silver screen farewell, Love's Sad Ending (1959).
Bai Guang: Light My Fire
If you're not yet familiar with Bai Guang "China's only torch singer" here's a nice introduction that appeared in Malaya's English-language Radio Weekly sometime in '53. (Many thanks to Oldflames for hooking me up with this rare piece.)
And because addicts love company, let me tempt you with a hit of Miss White Light's "Mad Love" before we proceed...
BAI KWONG, TOP STAR
by LAO WEI
THERE is little difference in the style of singing of the dozen or so top vocalists in the Chinese recording industry. Their voices sound very much alike and only a practised ear can tell them apart.
But two artistes do stand out. One is the incomparable Yao Lee whose mellow voice, sympathetic performance and unerring good taste put her in a class all her own. The other is Bai Kwong. China's only "torch singer" and without a doubt her most glamorous film star.
Bai Kwong (White Light) retired from the recording and film business after her marriage to an American airline pilot. She now lives in Japan.*SHE toured Singapore and the Federation two years ago and was enthusiastically received by her fans.
Her films are popular here.
This popularity, however, was not echoed by one section of the Chinese press which, annoyed by her independent ways, commented so unfavourably about her doings that she returned to Hong Kong earlier than she had intended, somewhat embittered.
Bai Kwong is the Chinese film-goer's equivalent of Jane Russell, Marlene Dietrich and Rita Hayworth, all rolled into one. She has a low, throaty voice which she uses to great effect both in conversation and song.*HER discs sell well. Into all of them she transmits her warm, inviting personality.
Her rumbas, tangos and boleros are smooth and sentimental. The titles of her recordings indicate the type of song she specialises in, "Let Us Not Waste Tonight", "Mad Love", "It's Delightful When We Are Together", "I'm a Goddess".
"Let Us Not Waste Tonight" (Pathe 35826), a charming rumba, is coupled with another satisfying piece, "Waiting for My Love".
"Mad Love" is a stirring bolero with an unusually good orchestral accompaniment. On the other side of this disc (Pathe 35841) is a slow, dreamy tango, "Haunting Old Dream".*"IT'S Delightful When We Are Together" and "I'm Awaiting Your Return" (Pathe 35739) are two typical Bai Kwong songs in which she makes full use of that throaty, sexy voice.
Then there is a naughty little tune, "I'm a Goddess", in which the singer tells her admirers that if they want to gain her favour they must approach her on bended knee."
A street walker laments her unhappy fate in a sentimental tango, "Street Lamps on a Cold Night" (Pathe 35852). On the reverse, the tempo shifts to a rousing march, "Mountain of Youth", a call to young people to work hard to reach the summit of the mountain of success.*THIS is rather an unusual type of song for Bai Kwong to sing. But "morale boosting tunes have always been popular with the Chinese, and marches especially so since the establishment of the republic and the growing surge of national pride.
The Communists make effective use of songs and dances in their propaganda by playing on the Chinese people's love for these two mediums of expression.
The way Bai Kwong renders a song, however, would not please the Reds: She gives it too much personality, and such subtle feminine inflections that the listeners' thoughts are very far, indeed, from such things as Communism.
So... Do you suddenly find yourself craving more of the beguiling Miss Bai? ... Don't sweat it, stick around... I've got your fix.
Liu Qi: Bigger than Marilyn
Do you remember Liu Qi and her funky knit leotard from a few months ago? Well, I recently stumbled upon some amusing articles about Miss Liu in the American press.
It appears that in 1953 she was being touted via AP's photo wire as "the Marilyn Monroe of China" (Syracuse Herald, October 9, 1953). The caption mentioned her latest film as being Tradition, which was one of the first productions of Asia Pictures, a U.S. government–funded film company founded by Zhang Guoxing, a former correspondent for United Press International. The studio was a part of a larger campaign to counter Communist influence in Hong Kong and overseas Chinese communities through the deployment of soft propaganda. Apparently, a key ingredient of which was good ol' American cheesecake.
Some months later, however, Liu Qi was apparently taking issue with her new nickname. The following articles, however contrived they may be, seem to offer a genuine glimpse of the proud Miss Liu, as well as some insight into the complex situation of being a Chinese film star in the Cold War era.
* * * * *
Buxom Chinese Actress Refutes 'Marilyn' Title
by Albert Yuan
TAIPEH, Formosa, May 23 (UP) — A curvaceous Chinese movie actress from Hongkong bitterly refuted her unofficial title, the "Chinese Marilyn Monroe," today and loudly proclaimed she was being victimized.
"I really don't know why you newspapermen always link my name with her," she said angrily.
"I am Liu Chi," she said, perking her heavily lipsticked mouth.
But a close female associate, in a position to know, quickly muttered, "She has a bigger bust than Marilyn."
Proves Point
Miss Liu Chu has a 37-inch bust to prove her point.
After five days of entertaining National Chinese troops with other charmers from Hongkong, luscious Liu Chi sneaked out for a shampoo.
In a secluded beauty parlor, Miss Liu bitterly exhibited her Oriental pride and features.
"Do I look like Marilyn Monroe?" she asked this correspondent.
"You look better," I replied, numb with admiration for her buxom beauty.
She angrily snorted and returned to her shampoo.
One Inch
The United Press, in a close check, found out that Miss Liu Chi outdid Mrs. Joe DiMaggio by at least one inch.
"If I were in Hollywood," the Hongkong actress said, "I would be more glamorous than she."
Miss Liu Chi appeared exhausted after shaking hands with nearly 3,200 Nationalist soldiers who had waited hours to see her.
Her itinerary had included Tachen Island off the China mainland coast, but her trip to that island was cancelled because of the fighting there.
— Pacific Stars & Stripes, May 23, 1954
* * * * *
Most Women Wriggle Hips, She Says
Chinese Star Sees Nothing Unusual about Monroe Walk
by PETER SUM
HONGKONG — UP — Hongkong's answer to Marilyn Monroe thinks the Hollywood star's celebrated walk is "every woman's walk."
Liu Chi, who has a 36-inch bust, 24-inch waist, a 37-inch hip, and the "Monroe walk," said:
"The Monroe walk is every woman's walk and there's nothing peculiar about it."
The 28-year-old Chinese star is not one to run down the male population.
Plays Other Woman
"A man is just as untrustworthy as a woman," she said. "If a woman complains that her man is untrustworthy, then why permit him to be her man?"
Miss Liu, a native of Peiping, began making movies five years ago. Earlier she acted on the stage in China's wartime capital of Chungking.
She came to Hongkong from Shanghai when the Communists were threatening that city in 1949, and since then she has made six movies. She usually plays the part of "the other woman."
Plans To Visit U.S.
Miss Liu made a trip to Tokyo and Formosa in February this year. She said she went to Tokyo for "recreation" and to Formosa to "boost the morale of Nationalist troops" and "to comfort freed former Chinese prisoners of war from Korea."
Like most other successful Chinese movie actresses who are now in Hongkong, Miss Liu plans to visit America, especially Hollywood.
"I am applying for an entry visa for the United States where I wish to remain as long as my money and the U.S. authorities permit me," she said.
Asked whether she will consider making movies in the United States, the oval-faced beauty said:
"It has to depend on whether American producers have an eye for me."
— Lubbock Evening Journal, June 25, 1954
* * * * *
As far as I know, Liu Qi never did make it to Hollywood. But she most definitely caught the eye of this humble blogger. Stay tuned for more about the lovely Miss Liu.
Bai Guang: Let There Be Light
Ask and you shall receive. A year ago I asked Oldflames, my trusty hook-up for the soft stuff, if he happened to have a color photo of Bai Guang in a bikini. And lo and behold, look what arrived in my email this week: some potent solar mojo to dispel the gloomy fog that's been blanketing the Bay Area ever since my return from the torrid zone two weeks ago.
Here comes the sun... here comes the sun... and I say... it's all right...
Here comes the sun... here comes the sun... and I say... it's all right...
Tripping through HK and KL
For those of you who are interested, here are photos from both of my trips this year. Hong Kong and Kuala Lumpur are definitely not as devoid of people as my pictures might suggest, but I'm not as bold a photographer as I once was. So even though these photos don't capture the urban verve of these two cities, I hope they at least give you a taste of their unique charms.
Hong Kong and Kuala Kumpur, July 2010
Hong Kong, February/March 2010
Let Yourself Go
(etc.)
Last night I drew a bath and sunk into soapy spiritual bliss with Eat Pray Love and a glass of red wine. Let yourself go.
In God We
If you find yourself sitting around thinking, "What am I going to do with myself? I'm so bored. Wah wah wah. crycrycry..." Stop whining and please take my advice: watch the videos of the people who Andrew Zuckerman (via the Anthropologist) Trusts. Jessica and I watched this the other week and fell in love with architects, grocery store owners and talented women artists. I think you'll find yourself in a similar position!
Soft Film Goes to the Beach
Here's a trio of treasures that I brought back from my recent trip to Hong Kong and Kuala Lumpur. First up is a rare swimsuit photo of Lucilla Yu Ming — right on the cusp of sweet sixteen — gracing the cover of Screen Voice (August 1952). Lucilla made her debut that year at Shaw and Sons with the film Love in Bloom (玉女懷春).
Now we move from sweet to saucy with the following cover of Spotlight (ca. 1956), featuring baby bombshell Man Lei Hung in a delicious cheesecake pose. She signed up with Shaw's Cantonese division in 1956 but eventually switched to the studio's Mandarin division, where she was reborn as the one and only Fanny Fan.
And last but not least, here's lovely tomboy Allyson Chang Yen on the cover of Companion (September 16, 1964). Like Fanny, she was a product of Shaw's Cantonese unit. When it shut down in 1963, Allyson was kept on by the studio but never quite found a place in the spotlight among the new crop of starlets (Li Ching, Chin Ping, Cheng Pei-pei, et al.).
Now we move from sweet to saucy with the following cover of Spotlight (ca. 1956), featuring baby bombshell Man Lei Hung in a delicious cheesecake pose. She signed up with Shaw's Cantonese division in 1956 but eventually switched to the studio's Mandarin division, where she was reborn as the one and only Fanny Fan.
And last but not least, here's lovely tomboy Allyson Chang Yen on the cover of Companion (September 16, 1964). Like Fanny, she was a product of Shaw's Cantonese unit. When it shut down in 1963, Allyson was kept on by the studio but never quite found a place in the spotlight among the new crop of starlets (Li Ching, Chin Ping, Cheng Pei-pei, et al.).
The Art of the Qipao
During my recent trip to Malaysia I stopped for a few days in Hong Kong, where I was lucky to catch an extraordinary exhibit at the Museum of History: The Evergreen Classic – Transformation of the Qipao. Tracing the evolution of the qipao (or cheongsam, as it's known in Cantonese) from its origins as the gown worn by Manchu women during the Qing dynasty to its golden age in 1930s Shanghai and subsequent efflorescence in post-war Hong Kong, the show features an astonishing 280 qipao as well as more than 400 photographs.
As you can see from my photos below, it's a sight to behold, whether you're a dedicated lover or just a casual fan. I was so overwhelmed by the sheer number and variety on display that I planned to return for a second visit but didn't have the time. Unfortunately, no catalog was published for this exhibit (a colossal missed opportunity that I'm still scratching my head about), so get yourself to Hong Kong by September 13 if you can't bear to miss this rare and precious spectacle.
A PDF of the exhibition pamphlet is available here.
KL Aerosol Addicts
Although Malaysia is plagued by religious reactionaries (just like my own country) — who, if they had their way, would ban such wonderful things as tomboys and horror movies — the capital city, Kuala Lumpur, is home to a strong and vibrant secular culture, as shown by the lively street art I saw during my wanderings.
According to former Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad, graffiti is an "alien culture [that] will negate all the efforts of beautifying our cities and towns" (ref). But for me at least, KL's street art was a bright spot in a city more sorely in need of litter cleanup and sidewalk repair than graffiti removal.
BTW, the stencil piece above refers to the Defence Services Asia exhibition, one of the world's top military supermarkets, held in Kuala Lumpur every two years.
Finally, let me leave you with this news story about KL street art that I found on YouTube:
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