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Far away, so close: cultural translation in
Ang Lee's "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon"
Ken-Fang
LEE, Assistant Professor, Department of Foreign Languages and Literature, Chung Cheng
University © copyright
文章出處：Inter-Asia
Cultural Studies 4.2 (2003): 281-295.
Even if I were banished to the darkest place,
My love would never let me be a lonely spirit.
--Li Mu Bai's line in
'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon'
Prologue*
Ang Lee's recent film, 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' is a success both in critical acclaim and at the box office. Its stylish fighting sequences, romantic love stories, complex entanglements of old grudges between generations, elaborate costuming and picturesque settings all contribute to its filmic achievement. It won four Bafta awards (including best director) and the Oscar for best foreign language film in 2001. In Taiwan, the director's home country, the film was a box office super hit. Yet, there are mixed reactions in Chinese societies. I am intrigued to see how and why a Mandarin film can be so successful nationally and internationally, yet audiences in Hong Kong and mainland China seem rather indifferent to and part of Taiwan's audience also finds fault with this film.
By situating this film within the larger context of cultural production and considering it a representation of Chinese cultural identity, I aim to examine the significance of wu xia films to different Chinese communities, explore how the concepts of 'home and country' and
'jiang hu' in the film relate to Chinese diasporic identity and further question the nature of Chineseness. Most of all, I'll argue that Lee, by focusing on a rebellious female warrior who fights to challenge the patriarchy and affirm her own subjectivity, interweaves a feminist stance and Chinese diasporic experience into the fabric of the
wu xia tradition and the spirit of xia. It is on this basis I consider Lee as a cultural translator/auteur/director. I suggest that he has conducted an act of cultural translation that 'denies the essentialism of a prior given original or originary culture'
(Bhabha 1990: 211), revising the martial arts film genre and re-defining the meaning of Chineseness. According to Homi Bhabha, through the act of cultural translation, we come to see that 'all forms of culture are continually in a process of hybridity'
(Bhabha 1990: 211). I see this period-costume martial arts film in many ways a hybrid that engages with the tradition of the
wu xia genre and with the process of cultural production at a specific historical moment in shaping a cultural identity.
I will argue that the representation of Chinese wu xia1 tradition and culture in this film calls forth a new cultural identity that de-essentializes home-bound
Chineseness. Firstly, I'll trace the cultural history of the wu xia genre and then investigate ways in which 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' translates different traditions (of cultures and media, such as fiction and cinema) into a new cultural product that challenges a 'pure, original' Chinese culture and re-invents the
wu xia tradition. Thus, as a successful cultural product, this film also contributes to shaping and re-constituting Chinese diasporic identity in the global context.
Different receptions2 of 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon'
As the box office figures show, 'Crouching Tiger' was the first foreign language film ever to make more than $127.2 million in North America. In less than three weeks, 'Crouching Tiger' became the UK's highest grossing foreign-language film of all time
(The Guardian 2001). In addition, it also won critical acclaim at many film festivals across the world. However, as both
The New York Times and The Guardian reported, the reaction back 'home' has been mixed. Apart from being a huge success in Taiwan, the film is a hit from Thailand and Singapore to Korea but not in mainland China or Hong Kong. In Hong Kong, it made less than $2 million at the box office. In mainland China, it made $1.3 million and most of the theatres showing this film in Beijing and Shanghai were half-empty. Why is that? Considering the two leading actors, Yun Fat Chow and Michelle Yeoh, as box office guarantees, this phenomenon is worth further exploration. One of the reasons might be that pirated videos, VCDs and DVDs were available in mainland China by the time the film opened in the theaters, as the executive producer of this film, James Schamus suggests (Landler 2001). This can be seen as another track of globalization: the copy replaces the original and is even distributed faster than the original (due to a dispute with the distributors, the film's release in mainland China was delayed for three months). But this is beyond the scope of this article, so I shall exclude this factor from my analysis and focus on the cultural determinants in receptions of this film.
Although many critics and viewers have praised this film for its ground-breaking achievement3, some viewers and critics respond negatively to this film. From the data I have collected, it seems to me that all the deprecations and enmities point toward one main charge: this film is not authentic enough. Worse still, it is complicit
with the mainstream Hollywood film industry and sells out its own culture and tradition to dance to the tune of the West. It begs the question of what the 'real and authentic' Chinese
wu xia tradition is. Can we see a clear-cut line between the 'bad' West influence and the 'good' Chinese tradition in
wu xia films? I argue that the rather 'emotional' response is to a great extent associated with the viewers' reflections on the imaginary Cultural China. Since the
wu xia genre provides a fantasy world where different sects or schools of martial arts, weaponry, period costumes and significant cultural references are portrayed in great detail to satisfy the Chinese popular imagination and to some degree represent Chineseness, it plays a particularly important role for the Chinese in diaspora in constituting their identity and maintaining their symbolic tie with 'home'. Thus, it is not hard to find why this 'un-authentic'
wu xia film would upset some Chinese audiences (of different communities).
This film is indeed a multinational product. Its sponsors include various film companies from the world: Taiwan, the United States, Italy, France and so on. Its cast consists of actors and actresses of Chinese origin from different parts of the world: Taiwan, Hong Kong, Malaysia, mainland China. The screenplay, based on Chinese writer Wang Du-lu's work, is co-written by two Taiwanese and an American. The editor is from the United States. The Taiwan-born director was educated and trained as a filmmaker in New York. A glance at the production team of this film can help us see that globalization is indeed at work. But this does not necessarily mean that this film is made solely for westerners.
Wu xia is a very specific genre in Chinese popular culture, either in the form of fiction, comics or other visual entertainments, such as film or TV series. Since it is always set in a certain historical period in Chinese history, such as the Ming Dynasty or the Qing Dynasty, its references seem always already 'fixed and concrete': the weaponry, the costume, particular settings etc. The content is also strongly interlocked with representation of Chineseness (Ng 1999: 595-607).
If we look at receptions of this film in the Chinese-speaking world, we may find that the negative reaction can be categorized into the following kinds. Firstly, many viewers in Hong Kong consider this film boring, slow and without much action. They declare that it includes nothing new compared to other movies in the
wu xia tradition in the Hong Kong film industry. Some Hong Kongese viewers claimed that seeing people run across roofs and trees might be novel for Americans, but they've seen it all before (Landler 2001; Rose 2001). Unlike conventional martial arts films, the first fight sequence does not break out until fifteen minutes after the film starts. When the fight scene does start, it is 'a balletic nighttime chase played out over the roofs of old Beijing' (Landler 2001) that cannot satisfy the martial arts movie fans' craving for fast-paced action and vigorous fights. Contrary to this vein of 'not enough or nothing new' thinking, another type of complaint considers the martial arts aspect of the film over-done and affected. Some viewers suggest that certain martial arts scenes are so exaggerated that they become almost ridiculous and are not realistic at all, such as the fight sequence in the bamboo woods.
Secondly, some rebuke 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' for pandering to a Western audience (Guo 2001; Fong 2001). They claim that the success of this film results from its appeal to a taste for cultural diversity, which mainly satisfies the craving for the exotic. This charge assumes that most foreign audiences are attracted by the improbable martial art skills and the romances between the two pairs of lovers. It is exactly these 'exotic and romantic' elements that betray the tradition of wu xia
movies and become Hoolywoodized. By the same token, the actors' and actresses' accents can also serve as an exotic signifier as well. Some viewers in Taiwan claim that the fact that most actors and actresses in the film speak Mandarin with an accent can be seen as a plus to further exoticize this film for European and American audiences (but if they cannot understand Mandarin, how can they tell the Mandarin is spoken with an accent?). In one critic's opinion, Mandarin is more exotic and probably more appealing than English for a film like 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' in a global market (Fong 2001).
These critics declare that all the markers of cultural differences and a calculated combination of Eastern philosophy with a somewhat Westernized plot merely serve the Hollywood film industry and make this film a successful global commodity at the cost of 'authentic' representation of its original culture. Furthermore, they charge that it interprets Chinese tradition in Western terms, thus consolidating the dominance of the Westernized culture industry and paralyzing the audience's (especially the Chinese audience) ability to critique the internalized Western values and manipulation. This film becomes a wholesale commodity mixed with a bit of everything (to attract the global market) and leaves its tradition behind. Some reviewers even charge that it is not 'Chinese' at
all4.
In the next section, I'll trace back the tradition of the wu xia
genre, especially wu xia films. In doing so, I am hoping it may help to explicate why authenticity becomes such an important factor in determining the receptions of this particular genre.
Cultural history of Wu xia
Wu xia movies and fiction have their own traditions in Chinese folk or popular culture, yet they have been always already in the process of hybridization and transformation. In the long tradition of
wu xia fiction writing, Shih, Nai-an's The Water Margin (1296?-1370?), combining historical facts, folklore and legends about the heroes who fought against unjust rulers and the corrupt legal system, can be regarded as the first masterpiece vividly capturing the spirit of
xia5 that challenges unjust institutions and never surrenders to suppression and unfairness.
Wu xia fiction reached maturity in the late Qing dynasty, offering people an imaginary world away from the harsh reality caused by political turmoil and economic as well as social upheaval. From the 1920s to 1940s,
wu xia fiction rose to its climax. Many writers experimented with new styles and new ideas, adding fantasy, magic, romance, detailed descriptions of landscape and urban settings that enriched narratives and constructed alternative world for common people (Lo 1990).
As Lo Li Qun in his study on the history of wu xia fiction points out, many
wu xia fiction writers were influenced by western literature at the time. They started to develop more complex plots and portray more vivid characters. Instead of the omniscient point of view in traditional Chinese novels, such writers also adopted different modes of narration to complicate the structure and the storylines. For example, 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' is based on Wang Du-lu's early twentieth century novel. Wang's style is rather different from others' exactly because he focuses more on the inner worlds of his characters and elaborates on the romantic plots in greater detail. He does not dwell so much on the fight scenes. Wang's wife once said that he was very much influenced by Freud's psychology and Greek tragedy (Lee 2000a). Moreover, before he worked on
wu xia fiction, he had written some romantic novels, which at the time were falling into the category of 'the Mandarin Duck and Butterfly style'.
In addition to these experiments with new styles and techniques, some of the most imaginative works even introduced the elements of science fiction to an ancient Chinese setting and created a 'magic realist' world (Lo 1990: 193-252; Wu 2000: 128-135). Unfortunately, the civil war between the Nationalists and the Communists and its ensuing consequence interrupted this development. Both in mainland China and in Taiwan, martial arts fiction writing came to a halt. Not until the 1970s when some writers published very popular martial arts fiction in Taiwan and Hong Kong, such as writers Gu Long and Jin Yong, did this genre come alive again.
At first, the xia is seen as a heroic figure who possesses the martial arts skills to conduct his/her righteous and loyal acts
(yi in Chinese). This figure is quite similar to the character Robin Hood in the western popular imagination. Both aiming to fight against social injustice and right wrongs in a feudal society, they do not care about institutional regulations and only follow their conscience to do what is proper. Sometimes there is only a thin line between
xia and bandits. If the xia take advantage of their martial arts to exploit the weak, they are no different from robbers and bandits. Basically, both
xia and robbers are from the outcast world and reject the rules of mainstream society. What differentiates one from the other is the values they hold. This double characteristic makes the
xia a controversial figure. As Lo observes, the spirit of
xia has been influenced by different Chinese philosophies, such as
Moism, Taoism, Confucianism and Buddhism and definitions of xia may vary (1990: 2-10). For instance, there are Confucian
xia, Taoist xia and even thief-xia etc.
Most significantly, no matter their background, the site where the
xia live, act and fight is called jiang hu, an untranslatable term. In literal Chinese it combines the words for rivers and lakes, yet it refers to an outcast world that exists outside the conventional institutions of family and country
﹙jia guo﹚. The reason why
jiang hu is so fascinating is that it provides an alternative world in opposition to the disciplined world of home and
country6. Jiang Hu's substantial reality takes place in the inns, the bamboo woods, temples or back alleys. In earlier
wu xia fiction, the xia are normally the rebels who protect the weak against the wrongs of evildoers. Later on, however, some
wu xia novelists bring in a new trend. The xia become a supporting force for the local government to practice social justice and thus, to a
certain extent, loses the theme of rebellion (Yeh 1985: 38).
Yet, no matter whether xia stands for or against the government or the ruling authority, the spirit of
xia remains the same: to be loyal and faithful, which is in line with Confucianism, the dominant ideology in Chinese culture. The collective and the community are normally considered more valuable and important than the individual or the personal. In different contexts, the object to which the
xia is loyal and faithful may vary-- friends, the sects or groups to which the
xia belongs, the family or the country. However, the
xia must follow the principles of loyalty and righteousness in jiang hu. Fights and challenges are mainly taken in the name of the collective. Personal humiliation can be endured and forgotten, but unfairness to the collective should be condemned and punished at any cost.
Wu xia
films share similar grounds with wu xia fiction. Or, to put it more properly, the former to a large extent originated from the latter. Many successful
wu xia films are actually adapted from popular wu xia
novels. As wu xia novels usually enjoy a boom during social and political turmoil (for instance, the late Qing dynasty and the 1920s),
wu xia films also provide their audiences an escape from harsh reality at difficult times. The first
wu xia films were silent-era productions of Shanghai studios. Among them,
Burning of the Red Lotus Monastery (1928) was a huge success. Later on, civil wars interrupted the development of this genre.
It was not until the late 1930s when Shanghai directors shifted to Hong Kong that wu xia
films were revived. The most popular series was devoted to the Cantonese martial artist, Huang Feihong, who was portrayed as a peace-loving Confucian highly skilled in
kung fu as a last resort (Bordwell 2000: 204). In dozens of Huang Feihong films, earlier fantastic and artificial elements were rejected and proper martial arts form and genuine
kung fu style were introduced. But when the major local film companies, such as Shaws and MP & GI entered the market and dominated, the Cantonese films lost ground and Mandarin
wu xia films became the mainstream (Bordwell 2000: 63, 204). In the late sixties, King Hu, Zhang Che and others, inspired by Japanese and Hollywood films, further established new
wu xia filmic languages.
Unlike earlier cottage-style film industry productions, these Mandarin films were financially backed by industrial entrepreneurs and/or national subsidies (Lu 1998: 109; Bordwell 2000: 64; Fong 2002: 7). The local film industry was also protected by quotas and import licenses, which prevented Hollywood from taking over the market. Interestingly, since the Mandarin audiences, excluding those in China, were significantly larger than the Cantonese ones, the Hong Kong film industry made dozens of films in a language spoken by less than 5 percent of the Hong Kong population. At that time, film industries in Hong Kong and Taiwan were in a both competitive and cooperative mode. Apart from domestic audiences, they also targeted overseas markets, such as Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Singapore where Chinese formed large concentrations. With more financial support, big studios were built in Hong Kong and Taiwan, color and wide screen being introduced and more up-to-date equipment used. All these contributed to a more sophisticated style of
wu xia films. It is worth noting that the Cold War impact and suppressing political as well as social atmosphere caused many filmmakers in Taiwan to avoid making films directly involving social criticism or sensitive political issues. Thus, romance and swordplay films became their safest bets. Both genres provided escape for local audiences (especially in Taiwan) from the pressures of political suppression and strict censorship. Moreover,
wu xia films, with their specific cultural signifiers, represented a Cultural China that probably never exited for the Chinese in diaspora and, in a way, soothed their nostalgia for home.
Yet, to satisfy censorship regulations and suit audiences' tastes in different countries, more often than not, Hong Kong-based film companies would produce a film with differing versions for release in various markets: the tamest went to Malaysia, Thailand, and Taiwan; a stronger cut was made for Hong Kong; and the bloodiest went to North America and Europe (Bordwell 2000: 67). This partly shows that audiences in Taiwan and Hong Kong have developed, or were forced to develop, slightly different tastes for
wu xia films at a fairly early stage. With different trajectories of film production, Hong Kong and Taiwan, two major sources of Mandarin films in the past few decades, have gradually developed their own features and styles, which in turn also made impact on their audiences' expectation and/or taste.
For many Hong Kong viewers, wu xia films mean characters in period costumes, a huge amount of fast-paced action, vigorous fights and sensational plots. Yet, Lee claimed that he was not particularly impressed by any Hong Kong made
wu xia films (2000a). Instead, he paid tribute to King Hu, a
wu xia maestro, mainly based in Taiwan. As I have mentioned that Hong Kong and Taiwan have developed nuances of taste over the past
decades7, it came no surprise that most of Hu's
wu xia films did not do well in Hong Kong (Bordwell 2000: 254). Compared to most Hong Kong
wu xia film makers, Hu put more emphasis on humanistic concerns and presented fight sequences in a Beijing opera style. In many ways Lee has shown Hu's influence on this film. He even tried to re-collect King Hu's technique of 'watercolor' sweep brush and the spirit of Zen in the bamboo fight scene.
Lee has declared that if he had not made a wu xia film, he would not have considered himself a real filmmaker (Lee 2000b). This statement reveals that for people of Chinese origin, the
wu xia genre has a particular significance. It feeds Chinese people's imagination, especially the Chinese in diaspora, of a remote but somehow related fantasy world. The characters may be fictional or historical figures, but the backgrounds are quite vividly set in ancient China. As literary critic Ng Kim Chew observes, the fantasy world in the
wu xia genre is a closed system. The characters are wanderers in
jiang hu. In contrast to the common people restricted by the conventions of home and country, they seem to enjoy more freedom. However, they are rootless and there is no end to their wandering unless they die or leave
jiang hu. Ng suggests that this is the xia's destiny and from a broader perspective, this wandering spirit can be seen a specter of the modern Chinese diaspora. Those Chinese
émigrés leave native homeland and inhabit another world (1999: 601-602), but still feel affiliated with Chinese culture.
For the Chinese in diaspora, China has become a lost home, a place to which they probably cannot return (for political or economic reasons and the then mainland China's closed policy). They maintain a tie with home through various cultural signifiers, while
wu xia films with strong implications of imaginary cultural China serve the purpose perfectly. No wonder film critic Roger Garcia indicates,
Almost all postwar martial arts films that constitute the genre have been produced by and for the Chinese communities outside mainland China. And to this end they can be read as films of mythic remembrance, an emigrant cinema for an audience seeking not only its identity and links with an often imaginary cultural past, but also its legitimization.
(1994)
Such an imaginary cultural past provides a site for the Chinese in diaspora to relate their periphery status to the cultural center, the remote home they probably can never inhabit. Furthermore, the
wu xia genre also helps Chinese people constitute their cultural identity and even legitimize their more 'authentic' Chineseness preserved through these representations of 'concrete details' of Chinese cultural signifiers. For example, compared to the complete destruction of tradition conducted by the Communist regime on mainland China (especially during the Cultural Revolution), the Nationalist government in Taiwan claimed their legitimacy and justified their 'authentic' representation of Chinese tradition. Therefore, the
wu xia genre not only provides escape from harsh reality for Chinese people, but a projection of their cultural identity.
Cultural imagination aside, sexual politics in such films is also worth further exploration. Though women warriors have played significant roles in
wu xia films, such as Yu Suciu in the fifties, Cheng Pei-pei, Shu Feng in the sixties, the characters they play are more like masculine
women8 and almost always comply with their male counterparts, such as their fathers, husbands, brothers or masters. For example, in King Hu's
wu xia films, female warriors often play lead characters (actually the Chinese title for 'A Touch of Zen' is 'Swordswoman' in which Shu Feng played the lead role), yet these righteous women warriors always follow the Confucian creed of loyalty to their fathers, families and their communities. Their chastity is sometimes challenged by the villain (for instance, the Golden Swallow played by Cheng Pei-pei in Hu's 'Come Drink with Me') and their main goals are normally to defend collective values. In other words, they base their judgment on the patriarchal values. Both Lu Fei-Yi and David Bordwell observe that
wu xia films manifest a form of masculine violence, basically serving patriarchal ideology (Lu 1998: 142; Bordwell 2000: 195).
In the 1990s, Tusi Hark adapted Jin Yong's popular wu xia
fiction, Swordsman, for his swordsman trilogy: 'Swordsman' (1990), 'Swordsman II' (1992) and 'The East Is Red' (1993). What makes this trilogy distinctively from other
wu xia films is that the unisex villain/villainess, Asia the Invincible, becomes the key figure to unsettle the binary opposition of
genders9 (especially in the sequals). But as a national allegory, Tsui emphasizes political struggle and power relationships between the government, jian hu, and the minority in the Ming Dynasty. Gender politics here, therefore, does not go further beyond the representation of transgender masquerade. However, in contrast to this convention, Lee brings femininity of a female warrior to the fore and re-writes the meaning of
xia by focusing on how she fights to challenge the patriarchy and affirm her own abilities. By re-visioning the spirit of
xia, Lee also questions the legitimacy of essentialist Chineseness, be it home-bound or sino-cored.
Jiang Hu (the outcast world) vs. Jia Guo (home and country)
When first reading Wang's novel, Lee admits that he was very interested in the strong female character, Jen (Tender Dragon). Though this delicate daughter of a high-profile official in the Qing Dynasty is soon to be married into respectability, Jen is fascinated by the woman warrior Yu Shu Lien's adventurous life and forms a mischievous plan. The film starts with the great martial arts master, Li Mu Bai, considering leaving the drifting life of
jiang hu and acknowledging his long-suppressed feelings for Yu. Before he follows a new path in life, the
tao, however, he must settle an old score. Unexpectedly, the powerful but spoiled Jen steals the legendary sword, Green Destiny, which originally belonged to Li and is now entrusted to Yu to be presented to Sir Te. This incident interrupts his plan and further reveals that Jen has been secretly trained as a martial artist by Jade Fox, an ambitious female fighter who murdered Li's master and has been a target of revenge for many people in
jiang hu. Jade Fox has been hiding for many years in Jen's family as her governess. Now one of her enemies finds out her whereabouts and tries to take revenge on her. All these people now gather in Beijing (the capital); it seems that killings are inevitable among them.
Later on, through flashbacks, we learn that before Jen's family returned from the frontier to the capital, their caravan was raided by a gang of bandits. The leader of the bandits, Lo, grabbed Jen's comb. In order to retrieve the comb, Jen chased him through the desert for days and finally fell in love with him and stayed on. During this period, her parents kept looking for her. In the end, she decided to go back home. Lo promised to become a successful, respectful person in order to get her parents' approval to marry her. When Jen went back, she learned that her parents had chosen a high-profile scholar-cum-officer to be her future husband. This marriage would surely help to promote her father's status in the government. Tension arose, however, since she was reluctant to accept her destiny as a submissive wife and was tempted to live the glamorous life of
jiang hu with her great martial arts skills.
The main plot hinges on the contrast between Li's wanting to leave
jiang hu and Jen's wanting to enter jiang hu. The legendary sword, Green Destiny, is the crucial signifier that connects them. For each of them, the other world seems more attractive and provides a possible escape from the restrictions they face in their current world. However, it turns out that neither leaving nor entering
jiang hu can fully liberate them. If the wu xia
genre provides a site for Chinese diaspora to imagine a cultural China, the spirit of
xia can be interpreted as a projection of their cultural identity, the nature of Chineseness (Ng 1999). Thus, the final fight sequence in the bamboo woods becomes especially important. As Li acknowledges Jen's talent and is also implicitly attracted by her, he means to become her master (in both senses). Jen's reaction is to denounce Wu Dang School as nothing but a whorehouse. By rejecting Li's offer, Jen actually rejecting the male-centered definition of
xia and the masculinity celebrated in most wu xia
films as well as sino-centric Chineseness manifested by the dominant and prominent martial arts schools.
In the wu xia film convention, the clear-cut boundary between good and evil has to be set and order maintained after conflict. Therefore, the spirit of
xia must be passed on from the legendary warrior, Li, to a rebellious female warrior, Jen. Significantly, this lesson/fight takes place in the bamboo woods (as bamboo, swords have strong cultural references). For Chinese, bamboo symbolizes righteousness. It is strong but supple like the sword. Both are metaphors of the spirit of
xia. If these cultural signifiers call forth the representation of cultural China, Lee also cleverly lays bare that the boundary between
jian hu (the margin/underworld) and jia guo (the center/home country) is blurred.
If we turn back to the film to find more evidence, we may see that Jen and Lo are more straightforward and passionate to express their feelings than their counterparts, Yu and Li. Their backgrounds may give us some clues about why they have different ways of showing how they feel. Jen is a Manchurian, and Lo, wearing ethnic clothing, looks like a minority, too (though in the novel he is of Han origin). Besides, Lo is an orphan and the leader of bandits. Thus, they are less restricted by Confucian thought and behave in a more frank and unreserved manner. Such marginalized backgrounds indeed place them at the periphery of the discourse on Chineseness. But taking diasporic experience into account, we may find that their hybrid and marginalized identities shed new light on the spirit of
xia. By juxtaposing Jen's relationship with Lo to Yu's with Li, Lee seems to bring in 'newness' into
wu xia conventions and to re-vision the nature of Chineseness. The characters Li and Yu represent the old tradition and the spirit of loyalty and righteousness. They are 'role models' by the old standard and must repress their desires (Lee 2000b). These characters' behavior in a way demonstrates the nature of home-bound Chineseness, which is restricted by tradition or 'pure, original' culture yet hardly
sustainable10. Lee skillfully contrasts two conceptions of Chineseness in terms of interaction between two pairs of lovers (mainly through Li's and Jen's characterization). In the guise of a romantic plot, he launches his exploration into the nature of Chineseness.
The distinction between 'the inside'/the center (home, country) and 'the outside'/the periphery (jiang hu, the outcast world) is contested throughout the film. When Sir Te first learns the sword is stolen, his bodyguard reports his suspicion that the thief might be from Jen's house. He is cautious and suggests that perhaps some evildoers want to incriminate Official Jen. According to Sir Te's calculations, an event in
jiang hu might be part of a conspiracy to sow discord between him and Official Jen and to concoct a charge against such a high-profile official. The theft of a legendary sword in
jiang hu might be cause for a political scheme. In this episode, we see that the boundary between
jiang hu (the outcast world) and family/country (the world of law and order) is questioned and transgressed. The boundary between the center and the periphery is, after all, not clear-cut and irrefutable.
If in the men's world the boundaries of jiang hu and jia guo involving political scheme and power relationship are challenged, Lee then turns to examine how these boundaries affect the women's world. When Jen first meets Yu, she shows her admiration and respect for Yu. One of the reasons is that Yu is in
jiang hu and therefore, is not restricted by the family and, compared to her, less confined by female identity. Jen thinks that Yu can go wherever she likes and love whomever she likes. She gets this impression from reading
wu xia novels and listening to stories told by her secret master, Jade Fox. However, Yu points out that she also needs to follow rules and principles in
jiang hu. It is not as free as Jen imagines. These rules and principles are to a great extent in line with Confucianism, the foundation of Chinese culture. But Jen is not fully convinced.
Jian hu still has its charm and provides a possible escape for her. In the end, what prods Jen to leave her home is Lo. As he sneaks into her room to see her, she recollects their good time in Xinjiang and decides to escape from the arranged marriage.
Adopting a male guise, she drifts in jiang hu. In the first incident, after she goes to a teahouse to rest, several men approach her and ask her name and background. Not knowing such typical decorum in
jiang hu, she is rude to them, which of course incites a fight. Her victory and rudeness are soon well-known throughout
jiang hu. When she stays in the inn, a group of warriors decide to teach her a lesson. Symptomatically, unlike the fight in the
wu xia genre which normally involves settling an old score or seeking valuable treasures, be it a secret script or a lost sword, that everybody is after, this fight is caused by Jen's ignorance of the
jiang hu rules. After all, jiang hu has its set of rules and principles that should not be dismissed. In this scene, Jen, with her new acquired sword, the phallic symbol, enters a men's world, the symbolic world (in the form of
jiang hu)11. All these male warriors have impressive titles and frightening weapons; however, Jen is determined to fight back.
Demonstrating her excellent martial arts skills, she defeats these self-important warriors single-handedly with ease. Though in male guise, her femininity can be seen in her soft, tender manners and her brisk, agile movements in contrast to the movement of her muscular male opponents. A fight scene in an inn is typical of
wu xia movies since inns are one of the common places where
jiang hu people gather. What makes the scene significant is that she composes a poem to tease these so-called
xia or warriors and their hypocrisy while fighting them. In this poem, she claims her own independence and disdain for such self-righteous warriors and even boasts that she has defeated Li, Yu and other famous
xia. In one comic episode during the fight, a male with the same surname as her husband-to-be is badly beaten.
Since she hates the arranged marriage, this unfortunate character becomes the scapegoat. However comic it seems, this incident also implies how little a woman can do under the weight of the patriarchal system and strict familial/genealogical structure. Most women would merely passively accept any marriage their parents arrange for them. Jen's fight against these men can be seen as a woman's defiance of patriarchal oppression and the law of the father.
In the earlier wu xia films, though women warriors may be central, the plots usually focus on how these female warriors take revenge on their adversaries because their parents have been killed or their honor ruined unjustly. Since honor or the values of family, country and community are above everything, they must defend them at any cost. In the tradition of the
wu xia movie, these women warriors do not have a 'body'; they do not have personal desire. They always behave decently and keep strict decorum with men. In contrast, the other kind of female figure is portrayed as extremely seductive and dangerous. They sometimes exchange sex for anything they need or they explicitly and excessively express their desire (Chiao 1997: 105-6). These two extremes fit the patriarchal concept of women: virtuous virgin or wanton whore, i.e. the Madonna-whore complex. Female desire is like a 'dark continent', either too mysterious and dangerous or not existent at all.
Yet, in this film, Lee presents a distinctive, rebellious female figure who shows her desire and questions family values and Confucian as well as Taoist thought. The film discloses that a deeply embedded tradition is actually a source of an unjust system or oppression that a rebellious woman cannot bear or accept. I am not saying that the line between good and evil is not important or does not exist in this new definition of xia, but that the old standard for judging good and evil is very much dependent upon Confucianism in which paternity and legitimacy are valued to an utmost degree. Thus, so-called 'righteousness' by the old standard can be another form of oppression12. That is why the revolutionary writer, Lu Xun, attacks the Confucian legacy as cannibalistic ritualism, especially for women (Lu 1918).
The character Jade Fox offers another type of woman warrior in our discussion of the feminist twist in this film. Lee admits that this role was inspired by his wife, who has a strong character. In this film, Jade Fox is portrayed as an ambitious female warrior anxious to learn the martial arts of the Wu Dang School but turned down because she is a
woman13. Being denied the admittance to the Wu Dang School, she then develops some 'cunning and deceitful' skills to attack her adversaries and protect herself. These cunning gadgets are despised by 'righteous and proper' warriors and considered 'sinister weapons', in contrast to direct and open defenses and attacks that they use. She even hints that in trying to be a disciple of the Wu Dang School, she was intimate with Li's master. Because it is more difficult for a woman to be admitted to such 'righteous and proper' sects and groups, women sometimes willingly or unwillingly use their bodies to get what they want. Such conduct proves how difficult an ambitious woman's situation could be. In order to survive, she adopts so-called sinister gadgets and even uses sex for barter.
In some respects, Jade Fox and Jen are very much femmes
fatales. Seductive and threatening, they are condemned by patriarchal society. Since they are rebellious, the father/the Law either gives them bad names or admonishes them to mend their ways. Jade Fox indeed has done bad things, but I feel sympathetic toward her since her wrong doing is partly a result of her difficult struggles in a hostile world where she has an 'unsuitable' ambition for a woman. On examining the patriarchal way of thinking, we may find that a 'monster' (in this case, Jade Fox) is, after all, the powerful woman who has her own will and wants to enjoy her freedom.
Hélène Cixous in her insightful article, 'The Laugh of the Medusa', transforms the monstrous Medusa into a strong and subversive female figure, a reading that empowers and inspires women. She also uses the double meaning of the French word
voler to suggest that women can show power in the acts of 'stealing' and 'flying'. Interestingly, these two acts are significantly used in this film. To steal, because women are prohibited from the word (the secret script recording the Wu Dang School martial arts, which is stolen from Li's master by Jade Fox), and the phallus (the sword; the name to pass on in the family tree, thus, talented Jen is obliged to marry into a 'right' family, a marriage that will also serve her father's political ambitions); to fly, because they are nimble, light and free and also because 'flying is woman's gesture-flying in language and making it fly' (Cixous 1975: 356). By stealing and flying, these rebellious women powerfully challenge the oppressive patriarchal society. I argue that Lee uses
wu xia filmic language to visualize what Cixous describes and, by doing so, also brings a new meaning to
wu xia fight scenes.
But in the end, both Jade Fox and Li die and Jen chooses to jump into the abyss. I consider this a compromise ending. Li's death symbolizes the demise of the old value system, home-bound Chineseness. As for Jade Fox and Jen, as rebellious women, cannot live happily ever after since they have dismantled, however tentatively, the order and rules, and must be punished. Jade Fox has to die since she has killed too many people, while Jen's destiny is very similar to that of the namesake characters' in the acclaimed feminist film,
Thelma and Louise. By jumping into the abyss, she may find her final liberty in another world. We can interpret this ending from two perspectives. On the one hand, I think that Lee fails to further subvert patriarchal values. On the other hand, in a perspective of reinventing the
wu xia tradition, or in a broader scope, re-visioning the nature of Chineseness in which the
wu xia genre is so deeply embedded, Lee provides a new way of thinking. The act of jumping into the abyss can be seen as liberation from the restrictions of
the current world. In '(an)other' world, (for the Chinese in diaspora, a world not limited by one stable and coherent account of one history), she may find a more fluid, transforming way of constituting her identity-an identity constructing process. By taking on a particular position at a particular junction, an individual finds him/herself a point of enunciation and a point of agency. This model of cultural identity enables articulations of the racial, class and gender differences.
Tradition and translation
If we look at Lee's film career, we can see that he has always been attentive to issues of how Confucianism has shaped and formulated Chinese culture and how it intersects with modern life in Chinese societies, either in Taipei or New York. In 'Pushing Hands' (1991), 'The Wedding Banquet' (1993), and 'Eat, Drink, Man, Woman' (1994), we witness how a father figure tries to maintain tradition and stresses the importance of family values and how the younger generation is caught in this expectation and their own choices (such as a Chinese husband being caught in cultural conflicts between his American wife and traditional Chinese father in 'Pushing Hands', the gay son's not being able to 'come out' to his parents in 'The Wedding Banquet', and the three daughters' complicated love lives and neglect of their father's loneliness in 'Eat, Drink, Man, Woman').
After producing such modern dramas and some English or American-based costume dramas, Lee returned to a genre 'near and dear to his heart' (Major 2001) and explored the spirit of
wu xia in modern terms. Lee also confesses that
This film is a kind of dream of China, a China that probably never existed, except in my boyhood fantasies in Taiwan. Of course my childhood imagination was fired by the martial arts movies I grew up with and by the novels of romance and derring-do I read...(2000b)
For Lee, then, this film is not merely a re-vision of wu xia
films but also an imagining of a China he knew in his childhood fantasy. This is a dream because he was brought up in Taiwan and the construction of 'Chineseness' is very much a postwar creation (Chun 1996: 130) by which the Kuomintang (KMT), or Nationalist, regime in Taiwan has tried to consolidate and claim its legitimacy and 'depicted itself as the guardian of "traditional Chinese culture"' (Chun 1996: 116) in opposition to Communist China's 'distortion and destruction' of Chinese culture.
Throughout this article, my argument has been based on an assumption that 'authentic Chinese culture' is an illusion. Since the
wu xia tradition, contributing a great deal to the popular Chinese cultural imagination, plays a significant role in the representation of Chinese culture, there is no denying that it is part of a shared common history, or common cultural imagination. Yet, as Stuart Hall has pointed out, 'the common history...does not constitute a common
origin, since it was, metaphorically as well as literally, a translation' (1990: 228). Culture is always already in a process of hybridity and transformation. Therefore,
wu xia films are never 'purely Chinese' since many early
wu xia film directors confess that they were influenced by the classic Western, for instance, John Ford's works. The fast pace of editing and montage in the early seventies' Hong Kong
wu xia films were also techniques inspired by Hollywood (Bordwell 2000). We can say, then, that Lee's 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' is no more Hollywoodized than earlier
wu xia films.
There is no doubt that a shared common culture and history holds significance for its people; and identity has a political meaning and effectiveness that cannot be ignored or erased. I have indicated that
wu xia is a very specific Chinese popular culture genre that has stimulated many Chinese people's imaginations and provided a site for constructing a cultural China. In recent decades, it is noteworthy that the major writers and directors of
wu xia, who produced or are still producing interesting works to enrich this genre, are all Chinese in diaspora, such as Jin Yong, Gu Long, King Hu, and Tsui
Kark14. Their representations must to a certain degree reflect their positions and nostalgia for a China that probably never existed. Yet some basic elements of the
wu xia tradition serve as a foundation of a common language familiar to Chinese societies.
I suggest that Lee's choosing Mandarin as the language of the film instead of English is a gesture to stress the significance of a 'common language'. Mandarin is the main (but of course not the only) language for Chinese people everywhere. It is, therefore, to a great extent the shared language of the Chinese community. Yet speaking this common language is not easy for some actors in the film. Michelle Yeoh confessed that the most difficult task for her in making this film was to speak Mandarin (Major 2001). Here Mandarin-like the 400-year-old sword, the bamboo woods, and period costumes-becomes a crucial signifier representing Chineseness. In the film, we can hear (those who can speak Mandarin can detect the difference) that the actors and actresses speak Mandarin with different regional accents. These differences reveal that there is no standard Mandarin. Even placed in the setting of the Qing Dynasty, Li, Yu, Jen and Lo are all from different places and it is natural that they speak the common language
(guan hua, Mandarin, or the official language) with different accents. Different accents register different regions, classes, backgrounds and so on, just as people speaking English with different accents register their different histories and trajectories.
Compared to the historical contexts of Mandarin wu xia film production in the 1970s in Hong Kong, while this popular genre achieved 'a kind of pan-Chinese internationalism within the region' (qtd. in Bordwell 2000: 67), to target a global market, 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' should have been made into an English film. Besides, the film script was originally written in English (Lee and Schamus 2000). It was through several translations and 'collective creation' (ibid.) that the script was finalized in Chinese. The choice of language is significant and Mandarin itself, as I have argued, becomes a metaphor for Chineseness. As Allen Chun indicates,
The experiences of the Chinese diaspora represent a wide spectrum of what may constitute possible reconstitutions of Chineseness, insofar as Chineseness has been traditionally shaped by the authority of a sinocentric core...each [experience] is a local response to different historico-political circumstances...the diversity of 'voices' from the periphery can contribute to the decentering of the essentialism and hegemony of culture. (1996: 125)
Though Chun means to push it further by questioning the legitimacy of existing identity and denouncing the myth of ethnicity, I do think these notions have their political effectiveness and are worth pursuing. For Chinese all over the world with different nationalities (including myself), the
wu xia genre plays a significant role in establishing our cultural identity. Above all, Lee, as a cultural translator/auteur/director, cleverly appropriates feminist concerns and supposedly marginalized characters to re-write the
wu xia tradition and re-define 'Chineseness'. As he once admitted, he uses this genre 'almost as a kind of a research instrument to explore the legacy of classical Chinese culture' (Major 2001). In the cave scene near the end of the film, as Li Mu Bai is dying in Yu's arms. He tells her, 'Even if I were banished to the darkest place, my love would never let me be a lonely spirit'. His spirit/specter is the spirit of xia, or of Chineseness, that always haunts and echoes wherever the Chinese diaspora is.
If we understand Lee's work as a translation, translating the wu xia
tradition into a new filmic language and adding new layers of meaning of
xia to Chinese culture, we also come to realize that different communities of Chinese contribute various, alternative meanings to 'Chineseness'. Thus, as part of a process, translation helps strike a balance between necessity and impossibility-the necessity of constituting the meaning of 'home', the significance of 'Chineseness' and the impossibility of pinning down its meaning or, for the diasporic Chinese, of severing the ties to 'home', to 'Chinese culture' with one slash (a set phrase in Chinese,
yi dao lian duan). The act of translation activates an exchange of different subject-positions, invites a dialogue and works towards an understanding between disparate positionings. I am convinced that cultural translation, in its intratextual and intertextual senses, is of great significance to the diasporic Chinese context. Lee's film should not be regarded merely as a super hit at the box office. Instead, it should be seen as a work that provides a new perspective on Chinese cultural identity and further dismantles male and/or national chauvinist thinking.
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Notes:
＊ I would like to thank J. B. Rollins, Rangan Chakravarty and two anonymous referees for reading this paper and giving me helpful suggestions.
-
Wu xia has a long tradition in Chinese popular literature and, more recently, in films and TV series. Wu means the martial arts, while
wu xia fiction emphasizes the righteous acts of the knight-warriors, who are skillful in martial arts and help the common people against evildoers.
Wu xia pian (wu xia films) became a popular genre in the 1960s and 1970s mainly thanks to the development of the Hong Kong film industry. Yet, it is worth noting that
kung fu movies and wu xia movies differ. In Mandarin, people use the term
wu shu to describe martial arts. Kung fu, which in Mandarin means work or skills and in Cantonese may indicate martial arts, became a fairly popular term due to 'Bruce Lee fever' and Hong Kong
kung fu movies distributed worldwide since the early seventies. These films are normally set in contemporary society, while
wu xia films are usually set in a certain historic period, with the characters wearing period costume. Herein I discuss 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' as part of the
wu xia tradition and consider kung fu movies more as an action film genre. 【回本文】
These different receptions are collected from the press, the internet where interesting debates and opinions are posted.【回本文】
Positive receptions can be found in reviews and comments offered by Hsiao-hung Chang (2000), Philip French (2001), Philip Kemp (2000) and Elvis Mitchell (2000).【回本文】
These negative responses can be found on the following websites:
www.shuwu.com; www.kpworld.com.【回本文】
The spirit of
xia is similar to that of chivalry in Western tradition, but the
xia, unlike the knight, does not necessarily come from a noble family. In Chinese,
xia can mean either the person who has martial arts skills and conducts righteous acts, or a righteous manner and act. In this article, I will leave
xia untranslated to maintain its difference from the western tradition of knighthood and chivalry.【回本文】
In Chinese American writer, Maxine Hong Kingston's
The Woman Warrior, the female narrator imagines herself a woman warrior who avenges injustice done to her people and is good at fighting. Many episodes in this narrative remind us of the formula plot of
wu xia novels.【回本文】
Having said that, I am not denying that most Hong Kong commercial films have done quite well in Taiwan, see Fong (2002).【回本文】
King Hu's films, 'Come Drink with Me' (1966), 'Dragon Gate Inn' (1967) and 'A Touch of Zen' (1970), portrayed strong women sometimes even more masculine than certain men, for instance, Shu Feng in 'A Touch of Zen'. See Chiao (1997: 100-10).【回本文】
See Shih Shumei (2001: 190-204) for further discussion of gender and ethnicity in Tsui Hark's 'Swordsman' trilogy.【回本文】
By this token, it becomes interesting to see Zhang Yimou's 'Hero' (2002) as a response to Lee's 'Crouching Tiger'. With the huge forces as a both threatening and stunning spectacle, the rebellious
xia/assassin believing in a tyrant for the greater good of people as the main plot, and most of all, through Broken Sword's (played by Tony Leung) statement that he wants to go
home, Zhang seems to suggest the legitimacy of sino-centric Chineseness in mainland China. The film indicates all the wanderers, people in diaspora, would like to go home and hold strong faith in the tyrant's leadership.
Wu xia films to a great extent have provided cultural imagination of and quenched longing for China for the Chinese population outside the Mainland since the early 1950s. In Lee's film, he rebuilds his childhood dream and also shows that 'home' is where the heart is. In doing so, I have argued, essentialist Chineseness is challenged. Yet Zhang's first
wu xia film (also with Hollywood's backing) is to bring 'shock and awe' to audiences, escpeically for diaspora Chinese.【回本文】
In this episode, the narration is basically constructed with a 'view behind', i.e., the audiences know that Jen disguised as a man but the crowd in the inn is not. But in the English subtitles, her female identity has been revealed in her line 'I am the Invincible Sword Goddess'. Thus, the tension or comical effect the sexual disguise is weakened. I consider it a loss in translation. See Annette Kuhn (1985: 48-71) for further discussion of sexual disguise and 'view behind' narration.【回本文】
Zhang Yimou's films, such as 'Ju Dou' (1990), 'Raise the Red Lantern' (1991), also probe similar issues but in a different genre. Rey Chow's
Primitive Passions (1995) provides a succinct analysis of women characters in contemporary Chinese films.【回本文】
In the novel, Jade Fox pretends to be the wife of Jen's master and keeps a low profile in Jen's family. Jen learns her martial arts skills from the master, Kao, and Jade Fox is killed during a fight with Yu. It is obvious that Jade Fox plays a lesser role regarding Jen's development and skills in the original. The relationship between Jen and Jade Fox is reinforced and emphasized and the episode of Jade Fox killing Li Mu Bai makes a dramatic ending in the film.【回本文】
Jin Yong's historic wu xia novels are probably the most widely read in Chinese communities and some have been translated into English, Japanese, Korean and other languages. In recent years his works have gained popularity in mainland China after the ban was lifted. He left China for Hong Kong after 1949. Gu Long died in Taiwan about twenty years ago. His stylized writing also attracted many readers. King Hu's
wu xia films established his status as a film master to whom Ang Lee pays his tribute. Tsui Hark was born in Vietnam and migrated to Hong Kong. He studied in the United States and then returned to Hong Kong to make many successful wu xia films.【回本文】
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