The Fate of Globalization and Chinese Film

Author: Zhang Fengzhu
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2003-03-01
Features: In the 21st century, such a film cultural strategy will no longer be possible, effective, or correct. On one hand, pure curiosity will diminish with repeated reproductions; on the other hand, the Chinese image shaped by this batch of national films will gradually drift away from the true reality of China. More importantly, as China accelerates its globalization, it needs a brand-new image presented to the world. Limiting itself to the marginal state and unique individuality of national culture will inevitably lead film creation to seek and explore cultural resources more from historical traditions, making the cultural form of national films appear outdated and obsolete. This is precisely the cultural outcome that ultimately reached the creative pursuits of the majority of the Fifth Generation directors. For a long time, film critics have only criticized them for their subservience to the West from the perspective of national pride and confidence, failing to notice that this is not merely a matter of form but also encompasses a broader aesthetic value orientation—the need to affirm and highlight the individuality of national culture by embracing its ancient and outdated aspects. In recent years, the films of a batch of Sixth Generation directors, such as That Mountain, That Person, That Dog, Bathing, Going Home for Chinese New Year, and A Beautiful New World, have repeatedly portrayed traditional rural, folk, grassroots, and family life as the spiritual homeland that the younger generation clings to or returns to, while modern southern China, urban centers, and business circles are depicted as noisy, chaotic, evil, and ruthless. After decades of reform and opening up, Chinese national films have still not escaped the ideological and emotional framework rooted in the natural economy. In the conflict between tradition and modernity, sympathy and praise are still bestowed upon the historically older aspects. This collective unconsciousness subtly influences and dominates filmmakers, limiting their vision and observational capacity. When more rural farmers in reality flock to southern urban centers in search of new opportunities and then return with capital, technology, and experience to develop their hometowns, the younger generation of filmmakers are still singing dirges for the fading aesthetic sentiments, pursuing a tranquil and distant aesthetic realm—a phenomenon that cannot be called anything but strange.
The representative works of this new generation of directors continue to gain international recognition, perpetuating the traditional image of the nation-state shaped by their predecessors and reinforcing Western perceptions of China. Under the traditional notion that "the more national, the more international," many directors are content to explore themes and content rich in traditional color, satisfied with producing spectacular national films for Western audiences. The narrow national perspective in film creation hinders the expansion of exchanges and limits the broader aesthetic scope of the themes they portray. To date, no Chinese film has consciously addressed global or universal issues. Rural education, marriage and love, the market economy, and anti-corruption efforts remain issues specific to China, addressed superficially without revealing their universal essence. In Zhang Yimou's My Father, My Mother, the mother remains a symbol of ancient and beautiful emotions, embodying the traditional virtues and subtle, persistent love of Chinese women. While the film is aesthetically stunning, it does little more. However, in Pedro Almodóvar's My Mother, the mother actively campaigns for organ transplantation, transgender rights, and AIDS awareness—issues that pertain to the future of humanity. Her concern, compassion, and inclusivity in these matters make her resemble a maternal earth goddess, with greater comprehensiveness, capable of evoking emotional resonance and aesthetic identification across different cultures and nations. Such cultural vision and spiritual height are clearly beyond Zhang Yimou's reach. My Mother still displays the rich and passionate national style of Spanish cinema but goes beyond a narrow cultural perspective, addressing global issues and actively participating in international cultural dialogue. In this regard, Yang Zhang's Bathing differs from Zhang Yimou's My Father, My Mother. Although bathhouse culture retains strong national characteristics, and the southern metropolis is portrayed as an "other" in opposition to traditional culture, the protagonist Da Ming's changing attitude toward his intellectually disabled brother contains a human rights theme that can engage in dialogue with the West. In Bathing, the national cultural and global cultural dimensions coexist. While tradition and modernity conflict, the trend of development is evident in Da Ming's eventual decision to bring his disabled brother to the southern metropolis, despite his wife's opposition.
The vitality of culture lies in its continuous potential for construction. If a new cultural layer cannot be developed and the film culture remains confined to the nation's traditional heritage, it will struggle to adapt to the evolving cultural environment. For Chinese national films, what is lacking in the process of globalization is this fresh, transcendent dimension. As China accelerates its globalization, national films still present an ancient, traditional national image to the world, excluding global and universal concerns from their scope—a feeling that seems counterproductive.
With one film after another winning awards at major international film festivals, the international status, influence, and attention of Chinese national films have significantly risen. This momentum has not only persisted in recent years but has also expanded to a younger and broader group of directors. Recently, directors like Zhang Yuan, Wang Xiaoshuai, Yang Zhang, and Jia Zhangke have consecutively won international festival awards, indicating that this is no longer an individual effort but a reflection of the overall strength and widespread impact of Chinese national films. However, many are merely basking in national confidence and pride, failing to recognize the cultural resources and market expansion potential within this. The "attention economy" highlights one enlightening point: how higher attention translates into market share and ultimately into economic returns. In recent years, Western film merchants have set their sights on the lucrative Chinese national film market. Some internationally acclaimed Chinese films have been licensed by Western companies for distribution, generating substantial profits. Hollywood has even developed a "China fever": "This fever manifests in two forms: one, Chinese-made films enthusiastically flood Hollywood; the other, Hollywood fervently produces films about China or related to it."① Hollywood's "China fever" is not a product of improved Sino-American relations or American goodwill toward China but rather stems from the growing international prestige and attention of Chinese national films, which Hollywood sees as a goldmine. Beyond the commercial advantages of Hong Kong martial arts, crime, and action films, filmmakers like Li An, Wu Yixun, Tony Leung Chiu-wai, and Jackie Chan have also been absorbed by Hollywood. Recently, Li An's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon has earned Hollywood handsome profits due to its distinct national style and recombination with Hollywood aesthetics. Another major development is Chen Kaige being recruited by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer to direct a multimillion-dollar Hollywood blockbuster, To Kill with Kindness. Hollywood has provided Chen Kaige with top-tier creative talent and ample funding, with reports that Japan has already invested 4.5 million yuan in the copyright, and purchases from other countries are underway.② Hollywood's special favor toward Chen Kaige is no different from the absorption of Hong Kong and Taiwanese filmmakers—it sees Chen as an internationally influential filmmaker with the potential to generate profits. The favorable conditions offered are solely aimed at using these box-office draws from the East to earn money from both Eastern and Western audiences.
In China, the export of national films is often treated merely as a means to win international awards. Many doubt China's ability to compete in the global film market, even proposing the concept of "inward orientation," arguing that "China, as a third-world nation, lacks the foundation and conditions for a global film industry."③ In the short term, this view may seem practical and reasonable, but the key question is whether China's cultural strategy for national films should be based on existing realities and conditions or on the evolving cultural environment and its own developmental trajectory. Today, the globalization of national films is an undeniable fact, evident not only in the dominance of Hollywood blockbusters in the domestic market but also in the actual competitiveness and cross-border potential of national films. Whether one likes it or not, Chinese national films can no longer close their doors, catering only to Chinese audiences. Weak foundations or insufficient conditions cannot stop this overall trend. If one focuses solely on the limitations of foundations and conditions and retreats behind national borders, not only is this impractical but also at odds with the country's overall development. Being content with such limitations means failing to adapt to the new cultural environment and fully improve it amid various challenges. Moreover, in the long run, Chinese national films urgently need to formulate a sound and effective cultural strategy to plan for their future development.
To focus only on past weaknesses and insufficient conditions while overlooking the rapid rise in international influence and attention, only to let development opportunities slip away—is this truly something to celebrate? The cross-border expansion of Chinese national films may not happen overnight, but the issue lies in determining the direction. In this regard, Hong Kong cinema offers a model. The local market of Hong Kong cinema is too small, with limited growth space. In the early 1980s, major companies like New Art Pictures, Golden Harvest, and Cathay Organization had already begun co-producing films with other regions, promoting them in Japan, South Korea, and Asia, but this effort only yielded results by the 1990s.① Today, the international influence of Hong Kong cinema has far exceeded Asia, even earning it extraordinary favor in Hollywood. When we praise its success, we must not forget that its arduous efforts began two decades ago. If Hong Kong cinema had been as short-sighted as some of our critics, using the excuse of weak foundations and conditions to justify inaction, would it have achieved what it has today?
In the past, Chinese national films struggled to enter Western A-class film festivals, but now they not only have but have also achieved remarkable results and garnered high attention. As for the commercial film market, individual films have begun to penetrate it, with Hollywood major studios clearly recognizing the market potential of Chinese-language films. Shouldn't we be wiser?