5 Short Essays On Chinese Documentary

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(The essays in this post were all written in 2011 )

A Quest for Reality

The ongoing New Chinese Documentary Film Movement represented by filmmakers like Wu Wenguang has won a reputation both within China and abroad partially for providing a real China for the audience. Subjects of these films are ordinary Chinese people like migrant workers, factory employees and other marginalized people including vagabond freelance artists, prostitutes and homosexuals. The content is probably daily life of these people and their unrehearsed interviews. Techniques deployed include large amounts of long takes, large shot scales, synchronous sound, and no voiceover. Moreover, the images seem rough and unpolished. All these factors seem to contribute to one thing-making the film more real.

This feeling of real exists not only in documentary films, but also in some fiction films and even in TV programs. The overlapping 6th generation and urban generation are more or less influenced by the “movement”. In Jia Zhangke’s Xiao Wu and Platform, a lot long takes, full shots and long shots are used to make the film closer to real life. TV programs in the 1990s also went through a revolutionary change. Names like Oriental Horizons, News Investigation are well known all over China for reporting events that are close to ordinary people and their everyday life.

Apparently, Chinese people are so used to those state censored propaganda TV programs and films that some of them have got sick of them and very much hate them. So when the new type of documentary is screened, although underground, they received a huge welcome. “This is real China!”

Given the nature documenting of documentary, the pursuit of reality seems to be an everlasting endeavor for documentarians. However, a look into history tells us the popularity of realism fluctuates from time to time and place to place. In Italian neo-realism movement, many similarities can be found in filming techniques and social background and motivations. If certain time and certain social background generate a certain demand for realism, then, is this kind of realism only accessible under that particular circumstance? And what is the relationship between the “reality” shown by documentaries and the people, the society who created the documentaries?

To answer these questions, we probably should go back to the very nature of “real”. The word “real” involves an object and a subject. The object is the existing world, or the objective reality. The subject is us human. Despite the changing of the world, I believe it is human that makes “real” so debatable and even fragile. Variable #1, diverse audiences. Every single spectator may have different feelings of how real a film is. Variable #2, different filmmakers. After all, films, whether fiction or documentary, are productions and expressions of filmmakers. Especially for independent films, the personality and experience of the filmmakers are quite decisive. The five artists in Bumming in Beijing are all filmmaker Wu Wenguang’s friends. Jia Zhangke’s films are mostly about his hometown Fenyang County, Shanxi province. Lou Ye’s films are mostly about Shanghai. So the realities in these films are actually quite personal. Variable #3, varying social expectation. In a society where propaganda TV programs and films are saturated while various problems are emerging on newspapers, what kind of reality is expected? Films about various social problems and marginalized people are the answer. These three variables are closely related with each other. A certain time period and social background may result in the distrust of “reality” shown on present TV and theater screens and thus generate the overall social expectation for films showing the “reality”. Filmmakers born and live in this atmosphere response to this social expectation and make the films. Audiences, both helping create the overall social expectation and being influenced by it, have developed a vision of “reality” within their mind, different from the present one. So those films live up to their expectations and strike a chord in the audiences.

There are all kinds of documentary films. Some are beautifully shot and well dubbed, like National Geography series; some have various tables and graphs and employ fancy editing techniques, like Super Size Me. Will we say they are not real? Probably not. Then why those filming techniques like long takes and large shot scales are labeled as approaches to realism. Objectively speaking, long takes and large scales are more real because they are more like how we observe the world with our own eyes. However, the world seen from your eyes is already mediated by your eyes. A perspective different that of a pair of eyes, like close ups and fast editing, does not necessarily make a lie. What I want to say is that the word “real” can be interpreted in a political way. The deliberate use of certain techniques in films is nothing but sticking a label on themselves. This can be called “realism”, “neo-realism”, “independent”, you name it.

In conclusion, the quest for reality along with the debate about it will go on in documentary making. But maybe it’s not about what reality is, but rather, what kind of reality do people want.

Introspection of the Filmmakers & Exploitations of the Subjects

In Yiman Wang’s essay: “I am one of them” and “They are my actors”, he mentions that “the common criterion for judging a violation of documentary ethics consists in whether the act of penetrating into the subjects’ private space leads to objectification, voyeurism, and exhibitionism, or whether it generate genuine concern for grassroots interests and thereby delivers a humanist thick description of the subjects’ existential life experiences.” From my point of view, this blur criterion is quite subjective. This “effective representation and articulation of grassroots reality form a humanist, sympathetic perspective” probably has no accurate marking scale. This emphasis on “humanism”, which is a product of “post-utopianism, commercialization and the increasing topicality of the disenfranchised”, also demonstrates the role of documentary makers as autors.

In dealing with the relationship with the subjects, autors may consciously or unconsciously develop a certain amount of introspection. Documentary cruelty is a product of this introspection. As Wang says “the documentary makers contend that DV hurts themselves as much as their subjects”. Although this introspection might play a certain role in the documentary making process and the “ethical discussions” driven by it, but personally I think most of these statements are merely either their self-consolation or an attempt to conceal their exploitations of the subjects. No one should arrogantly think that they are as hurt as their subjects by the film anyway.

On the one hand, documentary makers keep questioning themselves whether they have violated ethics; on the other hand, they keep exploring different kinds of relationships with their subjects. Yiman Wang talked about two types of relationships: “I am one of them” and “They are my actors”. I think both of them are by nature endeavors for better exploitations of the subjects.

In the case of Wu Wenguang, “the incisive and penetrating capacity of DV allows him to establish productive interactions with the peasant troupe”. By practicing “I am one of them”, filmmaker can exploit more from the subjects. Notably, filmmakers’ identification with the subjects not only has an influence on the subjects but also changes filmmakers themselves. But this change is limited and is demonstrated by the feeling of alienation of the filmmakers. This feeling of “being one of them” is just a temporary life experience which facilitates the filming process. The filmmaker is still an alien. What Wu has done in the Village Video Program further blurs the line between filmmakers and subjects. Meanwhile, it’s an even better way to exploit the subjects. Now he or she is indeed one of them. In the film made by Shao Yuzhen, a least amount of alienation is realized owing to the identification of a villager herself. When asked by other villagers what she was doing, she could answer “just for fun” and at most adds some blur explanation which is more like daily dialogues between villagers to remove their doubts.

“They are my actors” seems to be the opposite approach to “I am one of them”; but they do share the same purpose-better exploit the subjects. Jiang Zhi pointed out that “to make certain things happen, you must prod or stimulate them with your action.” An extreme example is Xue Jianqiang’s Martian Syndrome. Xue as a filmmaker became a subject and yelled at and even hit another subject, not to mention that the legitimacy of his filming was involved in their fight. I’m not saying that he foresaw their fight or kind of preplanned it; but it indeed happened because of his stimuli and he also intentionally used it in his film afterwards. 

In the desire of documentary makers to reach toward “raw, pristine reality” (yuan shengtai), they keep exploring new relationships with and better ways to exploits the subjects. It is quite difficult to judge whether they are right or wrong, if not impossible. After all, right or wrong is too subjective a question itself.

Real, Filmic real and Surreal

In Jason McGrath’s essay “The Cinema of Displacement-the Three Gorges Dam in Feature Film and Video”, he talks about how the boundaries of fiction films and documentaries are blurred in the pair of films by Jia Zhangke-Still Life and Dong. He keeps arguing how the films challenge the boundaries, subjectivity and objectivity. But I want to argue that what’s important and worth arguing and analyzing is not whether the film is documentary enough or whether it’s objective, but rather what the autor wants to express through various ways, either documentary or fictional.

It seems to me that Jia Zhangke has never limited himself to the pursuit of absolute objectivity. In his documentary Dong, many not so “objective” elements are used. As Jason mentioned in his argument, the use of an actor is notable in Dong. The actor Han Sanming is actually both an actor for Jiang Zhangke and for the painter Liu Xiaodong. In Liu’s case, perhaps the role of Sanming is not so different from those actual workers who are also Liu’s actors. Although their identities differ in real world, but as a model for Liu’s painting, they show no difference. Their gestures and positions are all staged. However, there’s no denying that the painting does provide a sketch of the life of those demolition workers in the real world, in Liu’s personal aesthetic way. From this perspective, Jia Zhangke does exactly the same thing as Liu Xiaodong. Han Sanming is an actor in Dong. But his actions in Dong reveal many very real aspects of the place and people living there. Another notable thing in Dong is the frequent use of emotional non-diegetic music. This is not a usual practice compared with other documentary makers of the 6th generation. What is more interesting is the direct quote of shots in Still Life, like a large wall collapses when Sanming walks by. Perhaps whether it’s fictional or documentary is not that important; it’s somewhat real after all.

Still Life, like other fictions by Jia Zhangke, pursues the aesthetics of realism. This filmic realism is realized by techniques including large amounts of long takes, use of non-professional actors and location shooting. But no matter how “real” it seems, it’s still far from a documentary. I want to elaborate on two observations. One is the story itself. The story is very much like a modern version of traditional martial arts films, in which the loner hero or heroine travels in Jiang Hu. In Still Life, Sanming and Shen Hong are the hero and heroine. They both are outsiders of Fengjie, travelling to this place for their own purposes. Of course, the dramatic conflict of this film is not like the almost-death-guaranteeing fights. The two protagonists are probably just the clues of the narrative which provides us a view of the life there from the vision of outsiders, like Jia Zhangke himself. The narration is structured by cigarettes, liquor, tea and toffee. These are the most important materials in traditional Chinese society and people’s happiness could be realized simply by these things. But now the way of life embodied by these things are challenged.

The tension of the film is built up by many other little details like the quarrel in the demolition office, the not so evident prostitute, and of course, the surreal images and those quasi-surreal spectacles. The first surreal scene is the UFO that connects the gazing of the two protagonists. Jia Zhangke once explained that people may feel extremely lonely when they are alone in a foreign land and they imagine their loneliness is actually watched by someone. This feeling is then expressed in the film through the bizarre and sudden appearance of the UFO. The house taking off is the most surreal scene in the film. Jason in his essay says “The periodic flights of imagination in the film suggest a realm of spiritual resistance to the physical disintegration surrounding these characters.” The taking off house suggests “that something will survive the demolition after all, if only aided by imagination.” I think these interpretations are quite presuming and don’t make much sense. In a screening in Peking University, Jia explained in the Q&A: one day Jia was walking along the river in Fengjie, clouds started gathering and lightening and rain came afterwards. Added that the place itself in all kinds of mysteries and legends. So Jia found this place to be mysterious. Moreover, the incredible speed of change, of demolition of the city adds to the surreal atmosphere. So instead of the way Jason interprets the taking off of the house, I prefer to read it this way: it’s just an exaggerated expression of the rapid speed of the change of the cityscape. Other surreal scenes include three costumed opera characters sitting at the table playing cell phones and video games and the ropewalker in the end of the film. I’m not sure what exactly does Jia wants to say, but it’s no doubt that the former scene juxtapositions the traditional and the modern elements while the latter might be making a metaphor of the cautious and fragile way of living of the people there. Apart from these surreal scenes, there are many other real spectacles. A wall collapses when Sanming walks by; an entire building is blown down in the background when Sanming and Yaomei are talking. Compared with these really happening spectacles, those surreal scenes are perhaps not as surreal as one thinks, or, the reality is no less surreal than the surreal.

The Distribution and Exhibition of Independent Films

From 1990s, a group of independent filmmakers have gained their reputation both in China and abroad. However, this reputation is quite limited. These films are only appreciated by a few intellectuals including scholars and well educated college students, etc. And of course, many of the films have the label of “underground”, or “illegal”. But these facts cannot deny the public’s growing awareness of and affection for the existence of these films and filmmakers. So it’s just about the time, if not too late, to think about the distribution and exhibition of these independent films.

To continue this discussion, independent films should first be divided into two categories: authorized and unauthorized.

For unauthorized films, theatrical release seems impossible, but there are still plenty of alternatives. 1) DVD. The censorship in DVD releasing is not as strict as theaters. Cheep pirated copies can be purchased around China; among them are both porns and avant-garde independent films. 2) Be screened in universities, archives, etc. Universities have become a great platform for independent films. The academic-look out layer catches less attention from the authorities. And the students are the perfect audience for the films. Other such places include archives, pubs and some private places. 3) Websites. Although censorship on internet in China set a limit for the spread of some films, netizens can always find a way to get over the firewall. Many films can be either watched online or downloaded.

Not all independent films are underground. Actually, probably most of them are out of people’s sight not because they failed the censorship, but rather they are not sent to be censored at all, or they just don’t survive the competition with more commercial pictures. So for those having passed or with the potential to pass the censorship, strategies should be made for better distribution and exhibition. First, what works for unauthorized underground films also works for these authorized ones. Despite this, theatrical release is not only a possibility but also a focal point that independent filmmakers and distributors should pay attention to.

Art cinemas should be built and well developed to offer a good and popularized platform for these films. 1) Various kinds of films should be released as a package. Along with independent films, some classic old films and low budget commercial films, for example, can be on screen. High budget films and blockbusters can also be shown to guarantee the box office. 2) Lower ticket prices and longer projection time period. These films are not as eye-catching as other commercial ones, so lower prices add to the attraction. Most commercial films are on screen for only one or two months. But independent films cannot reach a mass audience in a short time, the oral spreading which these films depend largely on takes time. Moreover, this kind of films also has the potential to be watched more than once. So the time period should be extended to even half a year, a year. 3) Off screen activities should be organized. Directors and other staff can be invited to the cinema to meet audience. Theme party can be organized for the film fans. 4) Different advertising strategies should be used. These films cannot advertise like high budget commercial ones. Given the nature of these films, a seminar, a lecture or even a DV competition about the theme covered can have better results. 5) Product diversification. Theaters should no longer just be a place with a screen, especially for audiences of independent films. Theater is a public sphere where people can share their opinions and have discussions as well as enjoyment. Diversification in product can help create such a sphere. For example, book stores, cafés, theme restaurants and souvenir shops can be built in or near the theaters.

Many people say there is no market for independent films. But maybe market is not there to be found, but rather, it should be created. And as far as I know, both unauthorized independent films and authorized ones are experiencing a growing market. But of course, a lot more could be done. Perhaps a whole industry is waiting to be uncovered.

Xiao Wu-Growing Pains

Jia Zhangke has always been concerned about one problem, the dilemma brought to ordinary Chinese people by the country’s urbanization, modernization and being part of globalization. In 1997, Chinese economic reform was right in full swing. In this transformation, people were excited about the rapid development in economy, meanwhile feeling the disappointment, confusion, and pain. Xiao Wu was made in such a time. Western culture is being localized in mainland. The established local social rules are undergoing a new interpretation with the new economic rules or market rules taking part. Because of the lack of experience in market economy and the flawed legal system, no fair and orderly platform was provided for the market competition. The growing pains of Xiao Wu, is a reflection of and a metaphor for the growing pains of the whole country.

In Jia Zhangke’s films, we can sometimes feel a fuzzy emotion, an ambiguity in meaning and hovering confusion around the characters. Xiao Wu, a lonely young man seeking friendship, love and family warmth while facing the cruelty of reality again and again, is overwhelmed by growing embarrassment and confusion. In the first date of Xiao Wu and Meimei, they just kept walking down the shabby streets in Fenyang. The background color is dark gray, the streets are monotonous. Their dialogues seem to have no specific meanings. Everything is vague. In the sequence when Xiao Wu visits Meimei in her dorm, the two just sit on the bed. It’s a fixed long take for about 6 minutes. Again, not too much dialogue is going on. Meimei, imagining a fancy but not very realistic dream-becoming a singer, sings the song Tian Kong (Sky), and ends in tears. Xiao Wu, not willing to sing, uses the singing cigarette lighter to show his affection for Meimei. One can write a whole essay on why the love between Xiao Wu and Meimei doesn’t work out. But what fascinates me most is exactly the feeling of ambiguity and the subtle tension within. The way they communicate with each other and showing affection for each other probably is the extension of their frustration and confusion deep in heart.

In Xiao Wu, the naturally formed social rules and the demand for a sound legal system in a modern society is another vital contradiction. The established social rules are sometimes quite deeply rooted in Chinese culture and people’s values. The legal construction and reforms actually hasn’t destroyed these rules, but just has changed the appearance of them. In the beginning of the film, Xiao Wu refuses to buy the ticket by claiming to be a policeman; when Xiao Wu meets policeman Hao in the grocery, Hao warns him not to play his old tricks; when Xiao Wu finally gets caught, Hao says:”You are so stupid.” We can see from these, although pickpocket and policeman stand in an antagonistic relationship to each other, there do exists some kind of privities and hidden rules between them. As long as such hidden rules are followed strictly, the relationship can be coordinated. Xiao Yong is absolutely a successfully player of these rules. He smuggles cigarettes, which he claims international trade; he runs karaoke which includes some illegal business, claiming that it’s entertainment business. This is well articulated by an old Chinese saying: Petty thieves are hanged but usurpers are crowned. In the new born market-oriented society where legal system is not sound, the old saying is just revitalized.

Jia Zhangke has mentioned that he is not being nostalgic in his films; he is just trying to tell stories in accordance with a Chinese man, a county, a country in his eyes. He doesn’t have any answer for the problems and questions raised by his films either. He is just portraying them, encouraging an awareness of the growing pains.