Living between worlds
When I was about eight years old, my mum and I went to a caa caan teng – the Cantonese name for a Hong Kong style diner – for a quick meal. These restaurants were the only places where I could grasp at momentary glimpses of the bustling Hong Kong streets; whiffs of the mind-boggling combination of freshly baked egg tarts and wet mortar; echoes of the explicitly sarcastic (and sometimes sadistic), fast-paced conversations…
When we were waiting for our food, this pungent, week-old seafood stench shot its way up my nostrils, and I couldn’t help but ask my mum in Cantonese,
“Do you think a garbage truck just passed by here? Why is it so stinky?”
Half the restaurant turned their heads towards our booth. My mum chuckled (mind you, her ears were bright red) as she explained that it was in fact the smell of a shrimp paste signature to Hong Kong cuisine. In hindsight, I realize the irony of how I, who treated the caa caan teng as a spectacle, became the spectacle instead.
As I grew older, my identity crisis as a second generation Hong Konger Canadian became a heavier burden. While Hong Kong cuisine is fairly accessible in Vancouver, other cultural resources and social opportunities specifically for diasporic Hong Kongers were much rarer.
Growing up, I never had a Hong Kong film movie-going experience. However, it wasn’t just the screenings that were out of grasp; the content of Hong Kong films in the late 2000s and early 2010s made the city itself feel foreign. The formulaic, fantastical action features solidified the feeling that I was forever going to have to look at Hong Kong through a stained glass wall that would distort reality and exacerbate my identity crisis as a second generation Hong Konger Canadian. I preferred watching Stephen Chow’s comedy films from the 80s and 90s, but still, these films couldn’t tune me into the city’s present day rhythm.
The current state of Hong Kong cinema
Hong Kong’s film industry is best known for its 70s and 80s era, when both its arthouse (like Wong Kar-Wai’s works) and action films (John Woo’s A Better Tomorrow, for instance) gained international recognition. Unfortunately, due to a plethora of reasons including digital piracy, actors seeking international opportunities, triads monopolizing the industry, and flaws in filmmaking hierarchy, the industry experienced a steep decline in box office receipts after the 90s.
In recent years, however, the industry’s status quo is being challenged by ‘new blood’ – an up-and-coming generation of filmmakers taking steps to explore bold topics and utilize unconventional filmmaking techniques. These filmmakers seem to be driven by a new sense of dignity for creative expression, as well as a desire to discuss Hong Kong’s socio-political issues.
An open door
For diasporic Hong Kongers, these films may provide a door to walk through rather than a stained glass wall. Many diaspora individuals say that they are more enthusiastic about and inclined to watch Hong Kong films in theaters these past few years as the stories and movie-going experiences help retain their sense of belonging to Hong Kong. For those whose families have been in North America for more than two generations, it may be less about nostalgia and more about the opportunity to learn about one’s ethnic identity. Samantha Ma – a second-generation individual – explained that because their Hong Kong-born peers have deeper connections to the city in comparison, watching films that engage in themes of immigration, displacement, and identity politics helps her develop her own understanding of Hong Kong.
Some expressed that sharing the movie-going experience with friends and family has created unexpected bonding opportunities. Haley – another recent immigrant – explained how she recently brought her mother-in-law to watch the Hong Kong film, “Mama’s Affair.”
“She has immigrated here for many years, but has never watched a film in theaters before,” she said. “Since it was the first movie going experience of her life and the film’s premise is about familial relationships, it was a particularly meaningful experience for me.”
Other Hong Kongers, like Colette Tung, a college student and recent immigrant from Hong Kong, explained that Hong Kong films create cultural references to incorporate into “daily conversations with friends because the experiences of the characters in the movies are relatable…” Besides creating common ground between friends, film pop culture can also foster connections amongst strangers.
New Hong Kong filmmakers & Their Storytelling
A contemporary wave of Hong Kong films that merely spurred a light commotion in the late 2010’s is garnering much anticipation in the last few years. Since there has been an influx of Hong Kongers moving to North American cities – especially in Canada, where as of April 2023, 3122 Hong Kongers have been granted permanent residence – and the space for expression in Hong Kong is narrowing, creative and sincere storytelling are a source of inspiration and hope for the diaspora. . Regardless of the generation of the Hong Konger Canadian or American, international screenings of these films provide an alternative platform for the diaspora to develop their collective identities.
Such films that received positive reception from diasporic Hong Kongers are “Twilight’s Kiss,” “A Light Never Goes Out,” and “In Broad Daylight,” amongst others. While these films embody various themes and genres, they all gained traction because they poignantly illustrate socially and culturally-specific issues.
“Twilight’s Kiss.”
“Twilight’s Kiss,” directed by Ray Yeung, dives into a specific marginalized and underrepresented community in Hong Kong. Inspired by the book, “Oral Histories of Older Gay Men in Hong Kong: Unspoken but Unforgotten,” Yeung, said he wanted to create a film about already-married men who are now finding the courage to explore their sexual identities in a hybrid landscape much more accepting of queer individuals, but for the most part, still restrained by traditional social views.
Yeung’s direction is beautifully lyrical. Like an onion, you can peel and peel, and there will still be more to digest and decipher. For example, there are scenes at the start and towards the end of the film dedicated to Pak – a gay man who has to choose between his new found love and loyalty to his family – meticulously cleaning his taxi. Together, they create a particularly memorable metaphor symbolic of his decision to give up on sensual exploration and self-acceptance when he became a taxi driver to support his family decades ago.
“The taxi symbolizes the values and the life led by many Hong Kongers who are now in their 70s and 80s. They are amongst those who fled to Hong Kong as migrants and refugees,” Yeung explained. “Thus, work and financial stability was and always has been their top priority. One can see how in these sorts of circumstances, along with the homophobia throughout most of the 20th century and the traditional Chinese values regarding the importance of family, exploring one’s sexual identity was very much a luxury many couldn’t afford.”
Yet, in the present day, being a taxi driver makes rendezvous with the man Pak loves possible. The duality of his existence depicts the fractures within the identities of this marginalized Queer community. In the bigger picture, however, the historical context, cultural norms and bittersweetness of love makes the story relatable for many beyond those who identify within this community.
A Light Never Goes Out
Besides the iconic egg tarts, financial district skyscrapers, and the Lion Rock mountain, Hong Kong is also known for its neon signs. For several decades, these signs created a tunnel of lights over Hong Kong’s urban streets, serving both function and aesthetic. For small business owners, neon signs are one of their most valuable assets because they embody “the soul of a [the] business” when the next generation takes over. For the international community, neon signs’ cyberpunk aesthetic defined Hong Kong’s identity.
In recent years, however, government crackdown and cheaper alternatives have caused the gradual disappearance of these iconic signs, draining the city’s vibrancy. “A Light Never Goes Out” follows the journey of a late neon sign crafter’s wife and apprentice as they scramble to keep the crafter’s business afloat whilst finishing his last project on his behalf. As they delve deeper into the crafter’s work, the pair discover that the crafter fostered a tight-knit community through the decades of manufacturing signs for local businesses– they realize that with the gradual retirement and passings of these crafters, not only does the vibrancy of their communities dissipate, but with it the kindness, passion, and dedication that defined an entire generation of Hong Kongers.
“I like how [“A Light Never Goes Out”] portrays the old Hong Kong and how the older generation are trying to preserve their memories and memories of Hong Kong,” explains Colette. “[It’s] really touching considering that a lot of things like symbols and values in Hong Kong are vanishing.” This story is about more than the preservation of neon signs; it sheds light on the many changes the city has undergone in the past few decades, allowing Hong Kongers to reminisce the “good days” and feel “a sense of urgency” as Cardin Chan, general manager of the non-profit neon-sign collector Tetra Neon Exchange explained in their interview with The Guardian.
In Broad Daylight
Going to see “In Broad Daylight” at the Vancouver International Film Festival was one of my top “goosebump inducing” experiences. Never had I seen a theater packed to the brim with Hong Kongers and Hong Kong film enthusiasts like this theater was. Conversations in Cantonese, English, and Chinglish bubbled pre-screening and post-screening during the Q&A where the director Lawrence Kwan Chun Kan interacted with the audience.
The film itself was no less breathtaking than the audience turnout. “In Broad Daylight”, inspired by a true event reported in 2016, follows a jaded journalist as she investigates the corruption and abuse happening in a private disabled care home facility in Hong Kong. In a largely pragmatic and apathetic city where the growing lower class hustle to put food on the table, the Christian middle class are accustomed to complacency, the ultra rich minority exploit the capitalist system, and the government is narrowing the capacity for expression, the reporter questions the ethics of her investigation when exposing the truth ends up hurting the marginalized residents at the care home. She asks her colleague, “In 10 years, do you think there will still be journalists?” In 2024– nine 9years after the story takes place – this is a question that many Hong Kongers may possibly have an answer to.
Kan’s film illustrates a hierarchy of social issues. The central topic of Hong Kong’s care home privatization and corruption serves as a foundation to discuss larger institutional issues embedded in the city’s system and exacerbated by autocratization. While the film does not shy away from exposing society’s ugliness, the relationships kindled between the journalist and the care home’s residents is a silver lining that shows how genuine kindness – although rare – still exists and is capable of liberating those who have been numbed by injustice.
However diverse the discourse are in these three films, they do not nearly exhaust the range of stories being told by the “new blood.”. Hong Kong cinema will never return to its Golden Age, but even better, it’s pioneering a path very much needed by Hong Kongers today.
Lack Of Accessibility
For Hong Kongers who may have moved away from, been displaced, or were born and raised away from Hong Kong, Hong Kong films are a kind of cultural expression; the stories and the movie going experiences have potential to aid Hong Kongers in their individual and collective identity building and hopefully one day help them understand what “living between worlds” is for themselves.
Unfortunately, accessibility remains an issue. In Vancouver, for example, cinemas like the Rickshaw Theatre and The Imperial Theatre – which were once owned by the major Hong Kong production companies – screened many Hong Kong films in the mid-20th century. Today, however, there are only two theaters in the entire Vancouver Lower Mainland that screen Hong Kong films, not to mention the limited selection. While there are organizations like CanMan and VSSDM that hold private screenings, individuals still miss out on movie-going opportunities due to lack of promotion and the limited ticket availability.
In the United States, for films like In Broad Daylight that puts an emphasis on digital marketing and has received positive box office numbers, several states will have screenings. However, the screening times are usually fairly short. Illume Films’ – a social media platform dedicated to promoting Hong Kong films in Canada and the United States – post shows that 12 locations would be screening In Broad Daylight. A couple of weeks later they would announce the last day of screenings would be December 21st.
Many have expressed that the challenges that come with getting access to a Hong Kong film screening has been discouraging. Haley noted, “When I studied in Vancouver as a high schooler, there used to be a theater at Crystal Mall that focused on screening Hong Kong films, but now it has been taken down and rebuilt as a Best Buy. Even then, not all Hong Kong films were screened. Today, I see that many Hong Kong films are being screened locally, but the films are in theaters for a very short period of time. It’s unfortunate, but I understand that the market might not be big enough.”
Another recent immigrant, Karen Ma, explained that there were no theaters within close vicinity to where she lived that screened Hong Kong films, so the long commute can be discouraging. “But something’s better than nothing. At the end of the day, we are living in a foreign place, so when we watch something that is produced in Hong Kong, it feels like my sense of belonging is being retained by the connection that is created between Hong Kongers and the city through these experiences.”
That being said, efforts are being made to increase the visibility of Hong Kong films. Metrograph, a New York based entertainment company, was the first to release Fruit Chan’s Made In Hong Kong in America. The company also has an online journal dedicated to discussing films through interviews, columns, essays, and excerpts. Many Hong Kong films, directors, actresses, and actors have been featured, from Lawrence Lau’s Spacked Out to Patrick Tam’s Nomad, to the wardrobe of iconic pop star Anita Mui – the list continues. Together, these pieces comment on the Hong Kong film industry and socio-political issues spanning several decades.
As well, AAIFF screened Lo Lam’s short Hei, I’m Home at their 46th festival, while Asian Pop-up Cinema screened several Hong Kong films at their festival last year, including Nick Cheuk’s Time Still Turns the Pages. Hong Kong films need more of these opportunities. The question is, what can our community do to make these films more readily available to everyone?