Chow Yun-fat
Posted: 14 Mar 2012
Is there a more fitting person to unveil our 100 Greatest Hong Kong Films special feature than Chow Yun-fat? We think not. The ever personable superstar shares his views on our movie list – and the current state of Hong Kong cinema. Interview by Edmund Lee.
Read the full story on Time Out's 100 Greatest Hong Kong Films here
It’s one of life’s beautiful ironies that Chow Yun-fat – the Lamma native who reached the zenith of Chinese-language filmmaking with such timeless classics as A Better Tomorrow (1986), An Autumn’s Tale (1987) and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) – would become a superstar by not acting anything like one. In person, the 56-year-old actor assumes the air of a friendly everyman who just so happens to be Hong Kong cinema’s biggest name; in public, he has shunned the limelight and restricted his public appearances to a controlled minimum; but when he does show up, you’ll be forgiven for thinking it’s the emperor who has entered the room.
For instance, at his last movie premiere in Hong Kong (for the star-studded Chinese epic Beginning of the Great Revival), the press room had noticeably gone a notch quieter when Chow – and not any of the other big-name actors – arrived. Speaking exclusively to Time Out on March 2, Chow is still bemused when I tell him the air seemed to have temporarily stood still on that royal entrance. “I feel that [the journalists] were behaving that way because I seldom attend those functions,” he says with modesty. “I’m actually not the type of person [who puts on an air of superiority], you know what I mean? It’s just that if I tried to act like we’re the best of friends then… it might be a bit scary for you.” He’s giggling now. “On other occasions, like when people ask me for a photo on the street, I’ll just hold the iPhone and take it with them.”
It’s in the same jovial spirit that I chat with Chow about our special feature, his illustrious career and where Hong Kong cinema is heading...
In our list of the 100 Greatest Hong Kong Films, you star in seven of them –
Tell me about them!
Make a guess.
You want me to guess? Um, God of Gamblers (1989), An Autumn’s Tale (1987), City on Fire (1987), A Better Tomorrow (1986), The Killer (1989)… what are the last two?
Hard Boiled (1992) and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000).
Oh yes, yes. Hard Boiled is the one by… John Woo – that’s right. So Prison on Fire (1987) is not included? [Laughs]
The problem is you’ve made too many good films! Which of the movies mentioned do you think will rank the highest?
It’s probably A Better Tomorrow.
Indeed, most of the local industry people I talked to mentioned it, while the likes of Hard Boiled and The Killer seem to be enjoying greater acclaims overseas. Do you have a theory on this?
If we consider the characterisation, the explosiveness and the entertainment value, then of course Mark Gor [in A Better Tomorrow] is great fun. The character struck a chord with the local viewers because it is very identifiable to them: Mark Gor is both faithful and honourable. As for my favourite – or what I consider to be the best – from the several John Woo movies, I’d pick The Killer. It’s cool and stylish, and it resembles foreign movies in its composition. It’s unique in that it’s transcended the limits of Hong Kong films, having a little bit of the flavours of French films and Hollywood films.
It has a romanticised ambience.
Exactly, exactly. A Better Tomorrow is much more ‘hard-selling’ and straightforward [by comparison]. As for Hard Boiled, perhaps the foreign audience likes the Hong Kong style exemplified by its bird-cage-breaking opening shootout at a [traditional Chinese] teahouse; they like to watch something that is culturally flavoured. Maybe that’s why.
When you look back at those movies, are you surprised that so many of them have stood the test of time and become classics?
I haven’t really thought about it, not really.
But did you feel like you were doing something special back then?
Not really. From my perspective as an actor, I tried to give my best performance to achieve what’s required of each of my roles – and to make the film better. That’s the basics to making a living in the world: you have to provide a service of [certain quality] – right? I wouldn’t consider whether a film may turn into a classic someday; that’s not what I pay attention to. I won’t pay attention to the awards, either. Maybe because I’m from the older generation of actors, [chuckles] I think I should help the boss make a profit. If a boss can make a living, he’ll be able to continue hiring me. [Laughs]
Good thinking.
That’s why I give my 200 percent to play the characters and this is still my attitude up to these days. At the end it’s a business; we’re not making art films, and your salary isn’t cheap. It’s not about your personal interest – unless you’re taking less to work on a project you like. For example, I gave a discount to take part in The Postmodern Life of My Aunt (2006), because I like the character, I like [director] Ann Hui and I like the film on the whole. That was fun. You can try to do something different in it, but that’s not a commercial film – it’s an arthouse film. Another example: you see Andy Lau is investing in [Hui’s latest film] A Simple Life? That’s very risky too. [Chuckles] Isn’t it?
Have you seen the film yet?
I haven’t, but I will.
It’s quite a good film actually.
Yeah? I [always] watch Ann’s films.
I’d like to ask you something about your formative years. What are the earliest movies that you remember seeing?
When I was living on Lamma Island as a kid, I was mostly watching Cantonese opera. [Laughs] I mean the bamboo theatre for the Tin Hau Festival… when you didn’t have electric lamps and were only using oil lamps in the tents… when you see things light up in that darkness… it’s like being in a dream. And you know how detached the music and lyrics of Cantonese opera could make you feel, how their costumes and makeup [could make you feel]… so I felt ‘wow, that was really amazing!’ [Chuckles] When you were used to the very dark environment and suddenly came across something like that, it was really memorable.
So when was your first ‘experience’ with cinema?
After I moved out from Lamma and began living on Portland Street, I often secretly went to the late afternoon screenings. They were really cheap – about 20 cents [for a ticket]. The cinemas at the time also offered [discounted] tickets to movies that had been shown for over a month. My favourite was definitely 633 Squadron (1964). The previously released movies we watched then were all Hollywood blockbusters; we didn’t have money to watch on the first run. I watched a lot of vampire movies, and I watched The Great Escape (1963), The Longest Day (1962), Gone with the Wind (1939) and a lot of very impressive Hollywood movies. I didn’t know how to [properly] appreciate them when I was young, but when I saw those major Hollywood productions it was still a pretty amazing experience.
And did you ever dream of being up on the silver screen yourself?
No! [Laughs] I was merely looking at the colourful world as a country bumpkin. Watching those movies was like living in dreams.
Was there any Hong Kong movie star from that period who left a deep impression on you?
Before we moved out [from Lamma], we didn’t have many chances to see the [Hong Kong] black-and-white movies, and they wouldn’t bring those films to screen on Lamma. So I missed that period [of Hong Kong cinema]. I would occasionally catch up after black-and-white television broadcasts began, but… the most popular [movie star] then was Connie Chan. “Here comes Connie Chan!” [Laughs] And I very seldom watched those Yam-Pak [Cantonese opera] films. It’s in the 1970s, when I was enrolled in the [TVB] actor-trainee programme, that I started to catch up with the movies.
The representative directors today, such as John Woo, Tsui Hark and Johnnie To, were deeply influenced by the 1960s and 70s films by the likes of King Hu and Chang Cheh. Did you watch those early films?
Yes, yes, yes. You know, Shaw Brothers Studio was associated with the trainee programme. We didn’t have our lessons in Shaw Brothers but we did go and watch their movies. I really liked to watch [director] Chor Yuen’s Killer Clans (1976) and Chang Cheh’s Blood Brothers (1973). We were working as extras then, so we had time to go out [and watch movies]. But since the early 1980s, when I began to have the chances to play leading roles, there’d been more than a dozen years in which I didn’t see any movies. [Laughs] I was working day and night and had absolutely no time to watch movies. Even in the heyday of Hong Kong cinema in the 80s, the only chance I got to watch movies were the occasional midnight screenings that the bosses asked me to go to – otherwise I’d be working. [Laughs]
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