Movie Stars in the Cartoonist's Eye

Check out these delightful caricatures by cartoonist P. L. Chang from the May 1934 issue of the Shanghai pictorial magazine Young Companion. For those of you who read Chinese, here are the captions. For those who can't (and that includes myself), I'll attempt to conjecture about some of the situations depicted.


Chen Yumei
Remember Chen Yumei, who battled Hu Die for the title of China's movie queen? Supposedly when rising star Hu Die left the Tianyi Film Company in 1928 and signed on with rival Mingxing, Tianyi boss Runje Shaw (the eldest of the Shaw Brothers) decided to take Chen Yumei — one of his actresses — as his second wife and make her the studio's new top star. In this way, it was rumored, the notoriously stingy Shaw wouldn't have to pay a high salary to his leading lady. Poor Chen Yumei... all she could do was dream of getting that crown, while sleeping with rats on a patched mattress.


Wang Renmei
"Wildcat" Wang Renmei had married Korean hunk (and Shanghai's "Emperor of Film") Jin Yan at the beginning of 1934. Jin Yan was an avid hunter and outdoorsman, and if this cartoon is accurate, then "Wildcat" Wang also shared his love of rifles and campfires.


Ai Xia
This cartoon shows Death coming to claim the rebellious modern girl Ai Xia, who committed suicide during the Lunar New Year of 1934. She was China's second female scriptwriter and had written and starred in the film A Woman of Today (1933) before her death. In a traqic turn of events, director Cai Chusheng — who was rumored to have had an affair with Ai and who blamed the Shanghai paparazzi for her death — made a film about her life called New Woman (1935), starring Ruan Lingyu as her fictional stand-in. The press responded to Cai's attack by hounding Ruan Lingyu, who ended up taking her own life shortly thereafter on March 15, International Women's Day. It clearly wasn't easy being a "modern woman" in modern Shanghai.


Li Minghui
A singer turned movie star, Li Minghui was the daughter of "Father of Mandopop" Li Jinhui. In 1934 she married one of China's most famous athletes, football star Lu Zhongen. To read more about Li Minghui, check out The Chinese Mirror, your one-stop shop for information (in English!) about early Chinese cinema.


Hu Die
Here's Queen Hu Die looking a little uptight. I don't know what's going on in the cartoon, but I wonder if it's a reference to Hu Die's suit against her fiance for the annulment of their long-standing engagement. She also demanded monetary compensation for being taken out of the marriage market for such a long time (I believe they were engaged for three years). According to one American newspaper account, Hu Die was "never loath to use her affairs of the heart as stepping stones for her career" (Salt Lake Tribune, March 1, 1936).


Hu Ping
All I can tell you about Hu Ping is that she played the mad woman in Song at Midnight (1937), an adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera that was later remade in Hong Kong during the 90s as The Phantom Lover, starring Leslie Cheung. I'm curious to know more about her, so please leave a comment if you have any information.


Xu Lai
My buddy Oldflames helped me identify this one and was kind enough to translate the caption, in which Xu Lai says, "I couldn't live another day if I can't dance." I guess she was known for her terpsichorean passion. And to think, I only knew her as the first Chinese actress to do a bathtub scene.


Ruan Lingyu
And last but not least is our beloved Ruan Lingyu, whose winning smile and lanky beauty is perfectly captured by cartoonist P. L. Chang.

I hope you've enjoyed these as much as I have!

The Mysteries of Ruan Lingyu

Ruan Lingyu's Puzzling Interlude at Owl Hollow

A couple of weeks ago I stumbled — like a proverbial Alice — across an astonishing series of paintings devoted to silent film star Ruan Lingyu. I was completely surprised and enchanted by these strange tableaux which featured an actress so familiar and beloved to me.

Compelled by Ruan's tragic life and sad beauty, artist Kamala Dolphin-Kingsley created this trinity of works that became the centerpiece of her 2005 exhibit Somnium at Seattle's Bluebottle Art Gallery. In her artist statement she wrote that the paintings are "a tribute of imagined dreams, of a different world free from the torments of humanity, to inhabit Ruan Lingyu's self-imposed sleep."


Ruan Lingyu's Tangible Delectation

Through the alchemy of Dolphin-Kingsley's art, Ruan's suicide becomes a shamanic passage into the underworld. Accompanied by a retinue of animal guides — the wise owl, all-seeing peacock, lucky goldfish, and mercurial octopus and salamander — she travels through the hollow of death to emerge as the eternal Goddess.


Ruan Lingyu and Octopus

To see more of Kamala Dolphin-Kingsley's amazing work, visit her website and Flickr page.

Haunted by Ruan Lingyu

*Image courtesy of heman8

Remembering Those Who've Left Us

My most recent guest post at the Asian Art Museum blog is up now: check it out here. The museum is screening two movies this coming Sunday in tribute to Ruan Lingyu: A Spray of Plum Blossoms (1931) and Stanley Kwan's biopic Center Stage (1992), starring Maggie Cheung (seen above) as the legendary Shanghai film star.

It was the 75th anniversary of Ruan's suicide this past March 8 (which is also International Women's Day). I was meaning to post something in memory of her but was just too burned out after my Hong Kong trip.

Earlier this week, as I was watching the sad — yet beautiful — Center Stage and trying to articulate my thoughts and feelings, I heard the news that Jadin Wong, former Forbidden City dancer, and Tina Ti, Hong Kong movie bombshell, both passed away.


Jadin Wong (1913-2010)


Tina Ti (1945-2010)

I don't have the time right now to write a proper memorial, but they were both smart and savvy ladies who relied on their brains as well as their beauty. After she retired as an entertainer, Jadin Wong started a talent agency for Asian American actors. As for Tina Ti, she also became a businesswoman, establishing aerospace and satellite navigation companies in Mainland China.

The last two months also saw the passing of Shaw star Paul Chang Chung and director Inoue Umetsugu, who rebooted the Mandarin musical for Shaw Brothers in the late 60s.


Paul Chang Chung (1931-2010)


Inoue Umetsugu (1923-2010)

If you've followed the DVD releases of the Shaw film library these past years, then you probably know Paul Chang as one of Shaw's "James Bond"s. He appeared in the The Golden Buddha (1966) and Black Falcon (1967) but actually got his start at Shaw back in the late 50s. One of his early films, The Golden Trumpet (1961) by Tao Qin, was selected for the San Francisco International Film Festival.

Inoue Umetsugu's death didn't seem to get any coverage in the Hong Kong press, but it's undeniable that HK cinema would have been a little less bright without his madcap musicals. My buddy Glenn wrote a nice tribute to him.

Finally, I can't finish this post without paying my respect to the great Leslie Cheung, who took his life seven years ago today. Every time I see one of his films now, I can't help shedding a few tears for him. Rest in peace, Leslie.


Leslie Cheung (1956-2003)

Sorry for so much death in one post! Remember: be thankful and cherish each day.

* Photo of Jadin Wong courtesy of the eBay Archive; photo of Tina Ti courtesy of Oldflames; photo of Inoue Umetsugu courtesy of Frédéric Ambroisine.

In Memory of Ruan Lingyu (1910-1935)

Seventy-four years ago today, on International Women's Day, Chinese silent film actress Ruan Lingyu took her own life in response to problems in her personal life that were exacerbated by the mean-spirited scrutiny of the tabloid press.

Seventy-four years later, the alternately pathological and moralistic obsession with the personal lives of Chinese actresses has remained remarkably unchanged. (Click here if you don't know what I'm talking about.)

Anyway, I don't want to start a rant but merely pay my respects to the memory of one of the world's great actresses: Ruan Lingyu. It was largely her story and the clips of her films in the biopic Centre Stage (1992) that spurred my interest in vintage Chinese cinema.

To celebrate her life and career, I'd like to share this contemporary (though deliberately antiqued and often sold as vintage) reprint of a pictorial magazine devoted to the radiant star. Click here for the 4MB PDF file.