Film noir has been a problematic category of cinema since its inception. In a form of critical nomenclature, the term was initially coined by a French critic shortly after World War II to describe a group of dark films imported from America. In other words, film noir was a critical category rather than a term of creative execution from the beginning. It refers to a series of practices that appeared to be different from other classical Hollywood practices. Therefore, those films of difference were grouped under the umbrella term of film noir. As time progressed, film noir became well-received as a generic convention. The term, film noir, was not in use in America until the late 1960s. Film noir, however, still remains as a problematic category now. This is due to the fact that film noir has been appropriated worldwide, and its application in other countries usually involves cross-genre and cross-cultural practices.
Critics used to classify The Maltese Falcon (Huston, 1941), Laura (Preminger, 1944), Murder, My Sweet (Dmytryk, 1944), Double Indemnity (Wilder, 1944), The Lost Weekend (Wilder, 1945), Asphalt Jungle (Huston, 1950), Gun Crazy (Lewis, 1950) etc., as examples of classical films noirs. Later, as the market transformed, the cinema modifies the melodramatic structures of film noir and introduced nuances. Chinatown (Polanski, 1974) is seen as the first cinematic attempt of American neo-noir. Other examples include Body Heat (Kasdan, 1981), Blade Runner (Scott, 1982), Memento (Nolan, 2000) etc. Under such a circumstance, the neologism of the generic term is gradually derived. The major purpose of featuring a new type of films noirs is to question the norm, form and ideology of classical cinema.
The neologism, however, may not be absolutely relevant in Hong Kong. As a matter of fact, the cinema may not make films entirely in the American neo-noir form and style. Rather, it may appropriate the classical elements. The use of noirish hybridic form actually has a longer history in Hong Kong than that of neo-noir. The hybrid may find roots in the â50s of the last century. Even if sometimes the local cinema might make neo-noir films, the cinematic practice may not necessarily share the American agenda.
I suggest that when scholars and critics apply the neologic description for analysis of the local phenomenon, they may want to beware of several pitfalls. First, both of the termsâHong Kong film noir and Hong Kong neo-noirâshould not be used with an assumption that the Hong Kong films are originated from the American genre. Second, they should not play down on the originality, richness and complexity of the local noirish productions. Third, the demarcation of the old and new should be clarified so as to justify the claim of neologism. Fourth, if the observation is only based on the kinship of the local and foreign practices, the imagination of newness would become vague.
The noirish Hong Kong films indeed formulate a unique Hong Kong Chinese cinematic form. Such a phenomenon has drawn much attention from critics and scholars most recently. The editors of Hong Kong Neo-Noir refrain from offering definitions of âneo-noirâ and âHong Kong neo-noirâ in their anthology. Such an editorial preference is substantiated in an introduction written by Esther Yau.1 This idea is scrutinized as follows:
First, the anthology nurtures an assumption that early Hong Kong films used to model after the American genre, therefore, Hong Kong neo-noir films have evolved from these old âHong Kong films noirsâ. In fact, American films noirs are seldom reproduced in early Chinese and Hong Kong cinemas. Second, film noir hybrids, rather than classical films noirs or neo-noirs, have been more popular now and then. Yau tends to put all types of work under an umbrella term of neo-noirs and over-generalizes that film noir is a style. In fact, film noir criticism and scholarship now and then have substantiated an array of opinions against such a view of generalization. Many international scholars concur that film noir remains a problematic category that requires further examination. Third, the anthology groups some old and conventional practices of the Hong Kong cinema under a presumably newborn category of Hong Kong neo-noir. Fourth, although the editors and contributing writers select their objects of analysis according to the filmsâ direct kinship, similarities and/or sameness, the anthology still lacks a coherent discussion on what neo-noirs are.
Any attempt to put emphasis on the sameness of the formal features2 across various cinemas would also jeopardized the necessary discussion on the crucial differences of the dark cinemas. Some recent critiques clearly indicate a greater attention and interest in understanding the differences, for example, they study a hybridic noirish film form. In East Asian Film Noir: Transnational Encounter and Intercultural Dialogue edited by Chi-yun Shin and Mark Gallagher, some of the film commentaries specify a tactic of fusion3 of film noir and other genres. This anthology also compiles critical comments. For instance, in his article, Willis explains the downside of labelling âWu Xiaâ as a martial-art-film-noir hybrid for an appeal to the Western commercial film market. He comments that such an approach would play down the unique Chinese cultural significance of the film. The neologic description on the cross-cultural noirish application indicates an assumption of ânewâ practices. However, the nomenclature does not seem to be self-explanatory. Neither does the anthology facilitate a discussion about how and why such a type of fusion has been formulated culturally. A full analysis of the ânewâ features should be required.
The Differences Made Are Recurrent
While most of the critics and scholars might want to deduce the newness of films noirs by studying the filmsâ similarities, my book studies the ways in which they are different. For instance, I would begin my discussion by comparing and contrasting the ways in which the same or similar differences are recurrently made throughout a long period of time since the â50s of the last century till now. I hope that such a diachronic study of the cinema would pave the way for a more thorough synchronic study of the most recent Hong Kong noirish trends. With close analyses of the contemporary phenomenon, my book will derive a coherent understanding of how and why the cinema applies elements, styles, methods and strategies that are respectively seen as conventional and new, foreign and Chinese, international and Hong Kong Chinese, etc.
This book will put more emphasis on analysing the recurrent practices that create cross-cultural differences by invoking American film noir since the middle of the last century through to the present day. My research began early last decade in the United Kingdom. Upon completion, from 2008 onwards, I have been sharing my research findings personally with a few colleagues in Hong Kong within academia. I hope to promote an alternative angle to look at the cinema.
My contention is that it is more important to pursue an understanding of how the local cinema creates remarkable differences through a âglocalâ practice, or reinvestment of film noir, across different periods of time in Hong Kong. The differences are seen as treasures of our culture as they reveal an insightful worldview of the people of Hong Kong. Such a vision of culture is, however, neither copied from any western film nor derived from a transplantation of western ideas. The film form, at different periods of time, is the tough exterior of a caravan of thinking. The vehicle will reach an oasis of thoughts depending upon the stewardship of the driver. Such an analogy spells out a logic of cinematic practice in which the practitioners and audience are enjoying vital roles in devising, demanding, interpreting and reinterpreting the cinematic texts. What is seen as new to the classical Hollywood practice is uniquely Hong Kong Chinese.
Usages of both of the termsâHong Kong film noir and Hong Kong neo-noirâcould be wrong if the terminology fails to indicate the originality, richness and complexity of the Hong Kong cultural phenomenon. If a theoretical classification of âHong Kong neo-noirâ is based on the sameness between the new noirish film productions in Hong Kong and other countries, the nomenclature can hardly indicate the uniqueness of the cinema. Any description of the Hong Kong cinema as a by-product developed from the American dark cinema is belittling the cinema. Furthermore, the neologism is less helpful in remarking the actual situation of Hong Kong cinema. This book looks at, however, the significance of the dominant generic variation of films noirs. Hence, I study a bigger group of films which should be known as noir-related films of Hong Kong. What is most intriguing about the phenomenon is the differences made.
The screen practices that refresh the classical way of filmmaking should not be over-generalized in terms of âHong Kong neo-noir.â Neo-noir has been a term widely circulated among international critics and scholars since the â70s in America, which refers to a smaller group of films that is further developed from the classical Hollywood practice. The notion of newness indicated in the terminology has particular references that have already been well-received internationally in the film scholarship. In Hong Kong, both classical film noir and neo-noir have been adapted and appropriated respectively, at different periods of time. There is a much bigger number of Hong Kong film noir hybrids than that of neo-noir adaptation. Since the hybridic cross-cultural adaptation and direct adaptation from American films noirsâclassical film noir and/or neo-noirâare two different matters, a general category of âHong Kong neo-noirâ can hardly help differentiate the creative purposes.
A Choice of Noirishness
Nowadays, when people mention Hong Kong film noir, the first thing that comes to their minds could be Johnnie Toâs dark trilogyâThe Longest Night (Patrick Yau and Johnnie To, 1997), A Hero Never Dies (Johnnie To, 1998) and The Mission (Johnnie To, 1999). Toâs success is indisputable. Together with his Full-time Killer (Johnnie To, 2001), Election (Johnnie To, 2005), Election 2 (Johnnie To, 2006) and Exiled (Johnnie To, 2006), To has gradually established a unique trend of filmmaking that borrows the form, style and content of American neo-noir. Due to the success of Toâs films, a number of local critics gradually overlook some other essential application and/or appropriation of film noir.
I shall argue that there are other types of noirish films in the mainstream market of Hong Kong, which should receive the same degree of criticism. This book will clarify the etymology of film noir and chase the roots of these local practices. It will provide a diachronic study of how the local cinema adopts the noirish elements, styles and forms at different periods of time. I shall argue that full adaptation of American film noir has never been a dominant phenomenon. Rather, reinvestment of film noir as a cross-genre practice in Hong Kong has taken place as early as the â50s of the last century. Under such a circumstance, I shall distinguish American film noir from the other Hong Kong noirish films. I shall study a noirish transcultural and cross-genre practice of Hong Kong cinema in particular.
Such a noirish cinema of Hong Kong may find root in Chinese hard-boiled fiction rather than American film noir. The Chinese fiction was in fact influenced by the detective fictions imported from France (Leblanc, 1864â1941) and Britain (Doyle, 1859â1930) rather than just America (Bigger, 1884â1933) in the early twentieth century. That is to say, the root is not necessarily American. Between the â50s and â60s of the last century, Hong Kong cinema obviously drew on Chinese hard-boiled fiction and Chinese modern fiction. Hong Kong films in this period may also find root in the modern fiction of Yuan Yang Hu Die Pai (é´é´Śč´čść´ž), which comprises many popular works of Chinese hard-boiled fiction and Chinese martial arts novels throughout the first half of the twentieth century. In other words, early Hong Kong noir-related films can be seen as an attempt of transgeneric cultural adaptation of the literature. American film noir, therefore, may not necessarily be the origin of the local noir cinema.
This book offers a brief account of some early forms of local noirish application. For example, from the â50s of last century until now, the local cinema has celebrated manifold blockbuster successes resulting from the hybridization of film noir, martial arts film, thrillers, melodrama and comedy. They include Mysterious Murder (Dei-sheng Tang, Hong Kong, 1951); Yuen Chuâs action thrillers trilogyâBlack Rose (1965); Spy with My Face (1966) and To Rose with Love (1967); Violet Girl (Yuen Chu, Hong Kong, 1966); A Touch of Zen (King Hu, Hong Kong, 1968â1970); The Butterfly Murders (Tsui Hark, 1979); Long Arm of the Law (Johnny Mak, 1984); The Heroic Trio (Johnny To, 1992); Wicked City (Tai-kit Mak 1992); Executioner (Siu-tung Ching and Johnny To, 1993); No Risk, No Gain (Jing Wong, 1990); Fight Back to School III (Wong Jing, 1993); God of Gamblers II (Jing Wong, 1994); Fallen Angels (Wong Kar-wai, 1995); Sleepless Town (Chi-ngai Lee, 1998); Purple Storm (Teddy Chan, 1999); Wai-keung Lauâs Young and Dangerous seriesâa group of 10 gangster films including the prequels and sequels of Young and Dangerous released between 1996 and 2000; My Schoolmate the Barbarian (Siu-hung Cheung and Jing Wong, 2001); Men Suddenly in Black (Ho-cheung Pang, 2003), etc. Blockbusters like John Wooâs A Better Tomorrow (1986) and Ringo Lamâs City on Fire (1987) also draw on classical film noirâFrench and/or American. In most of these films, the classical features like chiaroscuro effect, convoluted plot structure and archetypal characterization of masochistic male and femme fatale are dominant.
In what is referred to as the âgolden periodâ between the late â70s and â90s, the Hong Kong film industry relied heavily on the revenue generated from the regional market, for example, in Taiwan and southeast Asia, including Singapore and Malaysia. When the overseas markets of Hong Kong films began shrinking rapidly in the â90s, especially during the second half of the decade, many investors and film directors moved to targeting the mainland Chinese market, which was expanding rapidly.4
The local cinemaâs survival story may not interest many people. However, the cinemaâs pre-and-post-1997 engagement in re-presenting a cultural identity crisis has received much criticism at the turn of the century. We are yet to find out how Hong Kong Chinese have interpreted the impact of the crisis now in the twenty-first century. What intrigues me most is that film noir has once been heavily invoked and evoked. The cinema has once proactively digested the impact of the crisis by allowing a sense of noirishness to predominate. Such cinematic pathos has received international critical attention. Most of the criticismâlocal and internationalâwould invest on the allegorical impulse of such a noirish trend. The discussion mostly revolves around the allegorical representation of Hong Kong peopleâs emotional experiences, which is seen as giving rise to a need to reposition the subject of crisis.
In the most recent publication on Hong Kong films noirs,5 critics like Joelle Collier, Mark Gallagher and Chi-yun Shin still consider that the cinematic representations have a direct relation with a real-life âcrisisââchangeover of sovereignty from Britain to China. The âcrisisâ is seen as a negative origin of the noirish cinematic phenomenon. This book, however, gives evidence of how the films undermine such a preconceived idea. I shall demonstrate how the noirish films speak of love, joy and hope.
I shall argue in this book that such an approach of analysis would not fully review the actual impact of the phenomenon if the repositioning is contextualized in a closed system of interpretation. I shall demonstrate in this book how the reinvestment of film noir in Hong Kong cinema may invite open reinterpretation that would enable effective negotiation of the subject position.
This book goes beyond the conventional presumption that the cinema is allegorical of the socio-political crisis situation of Hong Kong. It does not delimit the audience as passive viewers, nor does it presume the viewers as incapable of contesting or negotiating their subjectivity in the course of âcolonial Hong Kong imagination.â This is how I may pursue a different, and more rounded, view of the peculiar features of the cinema....