Hong Kong cinema pushed into 2022 in the face of stiff headwinds, not least with the global pandemic finally taking root locally. The city had kept its local Covid-19 case count low until the end of last year, thanks to measures like strict border controls, but infections and deaths shot up in the new year after the Omicron variant sailed in. While the rest of the world was opening up, Hongkongers found themselves more restricted and isolated than ever.
Cinemas were ordered to close in early January, ending the box office recovery Hong Kong had seen in 2021. With months having passed last year with no local infections, movie houses had pulled in HK$1.21 billion (US$15.6 million) over the year – a good deal better than the HK$536 million (US$69 million) recorded in 2020. Theatres were closed for 48 days, including the normally busy Lunar New Year period, and for the rest of the time they ran films with reduced seating to achieve social distancing, with no food or drink allowed in the halls (popcorn became a take-out treat). But as cinemas gradually admitted more people – an initial 50 per cent capacity rule was relaxed to 85 per cent as the year went on – Hongkongers eventually drove several films to strong returns.
Number one last year was Spider-Man: No Way Home, which took in HK$111 million (US$14.3 million), while the top homegrown hit was the pop-star biopic Anita, which came third with HK$61.3 million (US$7.9 million). All up, 278 films were released in the year, according to cinema trade associations, with 46 pictures classed as local productions. (Those figures were up from 218 and 34 respectively in the previous year.) But only one of the hometown films got into the top 10 – another reminder of how local fare is perennially outgunned in Hong Kong movie houses.
Avid cinemagoers could find several strong local attractions. Thrillers were especially fulfilling, with Shock Wave 2, Raging Fire and Limbo leading the way at the high end, and the low-budget Hand Rolled Cigarette impressed too. Directed by Herman Yau, Shock Wave 2 saw Hong Kong threatened by terrorists armed with nukes. While the action-drama was intense and the effects work delivered shocking images, the film also carried thought-provoking material on social topics and ethics. Raging Fire, helmed by action ace Benny Chan, who died while the film was in post-production, presented a fierce spectacle with a cop chasing bloodthirsty thugs. Chan’s picture also drew on a police brutality theme, making the picture especially topical to local viewers shocked by such scenes in recent years.
Soi Cheang’s Limbo saw police officers chase down a shadowy figure who’s been slicing off women’s hands. Though nominally set outside Hong Kong, the film’s relentless depiction of local sights falling apart and strewn with trash was resonant for those who feel their city has lost its lustre and changed beyond recognition. Hand Rolled Cigarette, directed by newcomer Chan Kin-long, meanwhile staged a dark thrill ride as two men are thrown together and struggle to stay ahead of the gangsters hot in pursuit.
Other crime pictures of note were Wong Jing and new director Woody Hui’s Once Upon a Time in Hong Kong, which tackled a 1970s police corruption tale; The Attorney, a legal drama by Wong Kwok-fai that sees corruption stretching into local politics; David Lam’s trashy G Storm, with graft busters going out of their way in pursuit of human traffickers; and Breakout Brothers, a lightweight prison-escape flick from Mak Ho-pong.
There were highlights in the drama side of Hong Kong cinema too. Anita, directed by Longman Leung, followed the life and times of singer-actress Anita Mui, who died of cancer in 2003. Starring newcomer Louise Wong in the title role, the nostalgic picture paid tribute to a leading light of Hong Kong entertainment. Another tale of a major Hong Kong personality was Jimmy Wan’s Zero to Hero, a touching look at the backstory and sporting achievements of record-breaking Paralympic sprinter So Wai-wai.
Drifting, from rising director Jun Li, turned its attention to the plight of the homeless. Focused on a group of street sleepers who take on the government in a fight for compensation, Li offered an unvarnished portrait of marginalised Hong Kong people. Director Adam Wong threw social comment into his pop picture The Way We Keep Dancing too, drawing on topics like gentrification, neighbourhood spirit and influencers being played by those in power.
Other notable dramatic works included Alan Fung’s Elisa’s Day, Ricky Ko’s Time and Candy Ng and Yeung Chiu-hoi’s The First Girl I Loved, all by first-time directors. In Elisa’s Day, a cop comes across the daughter of a woman whose case he was involved in two decades earlier, and a strong personal connection with the girl is forged. Mixing social concern with light comedy-drama, the crowd-pleasing Time saw a trio of elderly people set up a venture to provide assisted-death services to seniors in need, while also capturing the group’s own personal trials and triumphs. And in The First Girl I Loved, viewers are taken back in time for a dreamy and nostalgic tale of two schoolgirls’ romantic affairs. Fusing quality drama with action, meanwhile, was One Second Champion. Following a father with a nifty talent – he can see a second into the future – Chiu Sin-hang’s film won over audiences with its story of a man breaking out of a rut and finding success in the boxing ring.
Those seeking a break from the local grind could look to the Hong Kong-Macau co-production Madalena. Directed by Macau director Emily Chan and set in the former Portuguese enclave, the quiet film saw two mainland Chinese immigrants bond as lonely outsiders in need of mutual support. Another good change of pace turned up in My Indian Boyfriend. Directed by Sri Kishore, who moved to Hong Kong more than a decade earlier, the film charts the birth of a cross-cultural relationship and throws in Bollywood-style song and dance for added panache.
More romance pictures included Herman Yau’s 77 Heartwarmings and new director Anselm Chan’s Ready o/r Knot, with the former following a young woman faced with three suitors – among them an ex trying to win her back. Chan’s film vied for romantic comedy with a young couple running into differences over marriage, but it lost points for shrugging off domestic abuse.
Ann Hui offered polished literary drama in Love After Love, adapting an Eileen Chang short story that sees a girl come to 1930s Hong Kong and get mixed up with a rich playboy. Hui was also the subject of one of the year’s finest releases: Man Lim-chung’s documentary Keep Rolling, which charted the acclaimed director’s career and followed her through life at home, behind the camera and on the gruelling promo road.
Those looking for straight-up comedy had limited choices in 2021. The comic highlight was Fruit Chan’s Coffin Homes, a wild horror-style satire of life under Hong Kong’s overpriced property market. Taking jabs at agents, slumlords and speculators, Chan’s film mixed sly socio-political comment with deliriously bloody shocks. (The film was also the year’s lone horror flick from Hong Kong.) More traditional comic fare could be found in new director Keian Chui’s Showbiz Spy, in which an NGO worker goes undercover in drag to catch shady practices in a TV talent quest. Early in the year, viewers could find comic scenes aplenty in Vincent Kok’s film-industry support picture All U Need Is Love, a patchy pandemic concoction about people isolated in a hotel.
Similarly challenged in the quality department was Part-Time Girlfriend, the directing debut of Terry Cheng. In that one, a young man becomes an Internet sensation with his expertise in women offering paid dating services, then gets grouchy when he discovers his girlfriend is in the business.
Hong Kong filmmakers also delivered high-budget fare geared largely towards mainland China, including the nation’s top-grossing film for 2021: The Battle at Lake Changjin. Co-directed by Hongkongers Tsui Hark and Dante Lam alongside Chen Kaige, the Korean War epic staged intense and jingoistic battlefield scenes of an elite Chinese regiment taking on the Americans. In the realm of Hong Kong-mainland co-production, Peter Chan delivered Leap, about the Chinese national volleyball team’s development and training in pursuit of Olympic glory. Derek Kwok went for a slick caper with Schemes in Antiques, in which a dowdy TV repairman is dragged into the hunt for an ancient artefact. While both played well in the mainland, such films can be much less in tune with Hong Kong moviegoers’ tastes, especially with the city’s public ever more assertive on local identity and culture. Striking a good balance, however, were Shock Wave 2 and Raging Fire, also co-productions, which showed how to comfortably straddle two markets with stories that appeal on both sides.
Also notable was Caught in Time, helmed by Lau Ho-leung. Set entirely in the mainland in the 1990s, the film starred a cop spending years on the trail of meticulous thieves. Film buffs in Hong Kong could be tickled by the movie’s local action stylings and tributes to their hometown cinema.
Hong Kong-mainland co-productions like these continue to be an integral part of Hong Kong film, with joint ventures able to reach cinemas across the country and pick up potentially huge sums at the box office. But those going for joint ventures face challenges in passing mainland censorship, on top of meeting the differing Hong Kong and mainland audience tastes. Well known among the rules is a need for all wrongdoers to be punished; some filmmakers take clever approaches to delay the inevitable punishment, while other moves can play like lazy fixes.
Some mainland-set films opt for settings in the past (with fictitious cities for good measure), while Hong Kong-set stories may unfold in colonial times – either way, scenes of lawlessness aren’t shown as happening under the current administration. Other no-nos with the censors include the supernatural, and the process for getting final approval can throw films into post-production delays as filmmakers slot in workarounds. Hong Kong filmmakers wanting to avoid mainland constraints can make purely local works instead, but fewer resources are available given the smaller box office potential. Fortunately, large investors continue to balance co-productions and smaller local pictures in their line-ups, while several smaller outfits are brave enough to take the risk too.
Censorship worries have risen within Hong Kong, however, since Beijing imposed a national security law on the territory in June 2020. The law was made in response to the city-wide protests that erupted in 2019 amid a government push to allow extradition to the mainland. Set out by the law are the crimes of secession, subversion, terrorism and collusion with foreign elements, but critics have accused the law of being ambiguously worded and far-reaching in stifling dissent. The government subsequently amended censorship guidelines last June to require censors to be vigilant on whether a film could threaten national security. Then, in October, legislators passed amendments to the Film Censorship Ordinance that allowed the banning of films (including revoking previous approval) on national security grounds and raised the penalties for unauthorised screenings.
Just after the censorship guidance change in June, the short film Far from Home, set amid the 2019 protests, was blocked from screening. And when Kiwi Chow’s protests documentary Revolution of Our Times became a last-minute addition to the Cannes programme the next month, Hong Kong moviegoers expected there’d be no hometown release. The same could be said for Rex Ren and Lam Sum’s May You Stay Forever Young, which turned up in nominations for Taiwan’s Golden Horse Awards late last year. In that politically volatile picture, protesters rush to prevent the suicide of a disillusioned peer.
While direct political and protest references are clearly hot potatoes, allegory and satire have tended to attract little official scrutiny in recent years. Socio-political undercurrents coursed through some of the largest Hong Kong-mainland co-productions to hit cinemas in 2021, and other pictures threw in oblique jabs. But the lack of red lines on what constitutes a national security offence can place filmmakers in a quandary. What happens when, say, a local topic or historical figure in a production suddenly seems to be off limits? For a cinema that for decades has reflected local society’s ups and downs, any shift in censorship (and self-censorship) could be significant.
Despite the challenging times, Hong Kong cinema is far from shutting up shop. The past few years’ push to support new talent continues apace. Films by new directors are a big part of the release schedule, while a crop of young stars like Hanna Chan, Kaki Sham, Hedwig Tam, Larine Tang, Cecilia So, Jennifer Yu, Chiu Sin-hang, Tony Wu and various members of the boy band Mirror are rising up in small to mid-size pictures. (Broadcaster ViuTV has also played a big part in boosting young performers, among them several – Mirror included – who shot to fame through its talent-quest shows.)
The young talents complement the long-time industry stalwarts now gaining kudos after stepping into more prominent roles, among them actor-writer-producer Gordon Lam and actors Philip Keung and Louis Cheung, who all started out in the 1980s. The push for new blood in the industry is welcome, especially given how Hong Kong’s roster of top stars had seen few changes over the past two decades.
Among industry support initiatives, the annual Fresh Wave competition continues to back emerging talents to make shorts of up to 30 minutes, offering up to HK$100,000 (US$12,900) in production subsidies to each project and premiering the works in the Fresh Wave International Short Film Festival. Government support amid the pandemic has meanwhile included an expanded Film Production Financing Scheme that finances up to 40 per cent of a movie’s production budget, a Scriptwriting Incubation Programme that’s running as a competition to bring about quality scripts, and a Directors Succession Scheme that’s pairing young directors with screen veterans like Wong Kar-wai and Peter Chan and backing their projects. Meanwhile some have looked to web video to hone skills, with filmmakers like Drifting actor Will Or producing polished, serialised shorts for release online.
In the short term, however, the outlook for Hong Kong cinema in 2022 looked grim as the year started. Lunar New Year, Valentine’s Day and Easter became washouts when cinemas were ordered shut until at least April 20, and the Hong Kong International Film Festival had to postpone its 46th edition. Films geared towards the early holiday periods were hit hard, as well as other works already held back from release last year either because cinemas weren’t at full capacity or in hopes of building a buzz through festival play. Among those affected were the Lunar New Year comedy Chilli Laugh Story, from new director Coba Cheng, which offered an upbeat food-themed tale within a portrait of current Hong Kong life, and Amos Why’s lovely commuter romance drama Far Far Away, packed with an appreciation for the city.
As the local authorities doubled down on stamping out Covid infections and by March still offered no roadmap for living with the virus, Hong Kong’s film buffs couldn’t tell when they could settle back in at their favourite picture palaces for treats like these.
Tim Youngs