by Brian Thibodeau » Thu Aug 25, 2005 3:47 pm
In my early days discovering Hong Kong cinema, a lot of then-available resources, many of them fanzines or magazines like Asian Trash/Cult Cinema (a truly rotten moniker) seemed to have it in for Wong Jing, most often it seemed, due to his populist aspirations and seeming fixation on the puerile and sexual. Since these publications were often all there was on the subject, newbies like myself were often dealt lower expectations with which to view these films. I used to say I never trusted the critics, and generally I still don't, since film appreciation can often be so subjective an experience, but when venturing into what was, for me, uncharted territory, and living in a medium-size city with few if any other burgeoning fans, I was left far too often to trust the instincts of people I'd eventually come to despise for their snivelling disdain for filmmakers like Wong (and many others I'd learn) who actually represented the norms of Hong Kong cinema rather than the exceptions, and this ultimately led me to seriously revise my own preconceptions of the form.
Having now seen a sizable portion of Wong Jing's 80's and 90's work, fully aware that much of it is far from what one would term “quality,” I realize, however that he does indeed embody everything that one should love about that city's unique brand of picturemaking, and perhaps even its attitude toward life itself, and that his films often best represent the ideals inherent in both the people and the cinema of a synergistic city of six million. I’m tempted to tell people that if they don’t appreciate the Wong Jing ethic (crank it out fast, put something in it for everyone, move on), then they’re really missing an important element ot both Hong Kong cinema and Hong Kong itself. Wong’s films can act as a sort of filter through which other films then come into focus, for better or worse. It’s the only city in the world that could produce someone as prolific as Wong Jing, and, more importantly, as prolific in the way that he is. Sure, the world beyond Asia and the non-Asian fan base for its movies can still enjoy Wong Kar-wai's latest piece of moody navel-gazing or Stanley Tong's flashy attempts to crash international markets with hybrid casts, or even the nose-up austerity of Zhang Yimou, but "back home," so to speak, Wong Jing's influence, and the influence of those who influenced him, still reigns supreme, both in his movies, and the films of many of those who are still able to find work in the business.
Keep ‘em coming, I say. I hope when the man one day passes away, he sitting in the director’s chair.