STEPHEN CHOW, HIDDEN MASTER
the otherworldly skill of a contemporary master
By Bailey Ye
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| Artful beyond belief |
Steven Chow is a Hong Kong filmmaker who makes up his own sets of rules and standards like no one else. He was a bad student, but he definitely has the knack of a natural learner in how he employs his skills and imagination in film. He’s unique not only in Chinese cinema, but also in the world, and has become an inspirational figure to directors everywhere, including Quentin Tarantino. To understand what he’s doing and what makes him so unique, it’s necessary to look at some of the elements of his films that the average viewer or even the average critic might miss. So, in some sense, this is going to be an article about the genius of Chow, both about how obvious his technique is and yet how it often goes unrecognized.
Character Development
No one can introduce characters with the speed and efficiency of Chow. He’s so efficient at it and so sharp that we might miss how radical his methods truly are. In King of Comedy, Lau Piu-Piu is introduced in a school uniform with soft background music looking innocent and happy, and then the scene changes and she’s suddenly a prostitute. This happens without any foreshadowing.
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| Sweet? |
Later on, when the main character, Wan Tin-Sau, is teaching her how to act, specifically, a scene between two lovers hugging, she appears innocent again. When the camera zooms out, her occupational habits lead her to wrap her legs around Wan Tin-Sau, and she’s back to being a prostitute again. Chow repeatedly challenges our point of view and how we understand who someone really is.
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| Every action in Chow's films are fast |
On top of that, he has a unique way of inserting banter in-between serious scenes, but the banter doesn’t take the audience out of the situation; instead, the nature of the banter suits the character's personality. In this way his characters develop what feels like an unforced manner, even when the acting is exaggerated. In other words, Chow knows exactly which part of the character he wants to present at which specific time and that makes his characters both easy to sympathize with and incredibly dynamic.
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| You think you know them |
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| Or maybe you don't |
In Kung Fu Hustle, we meet the landlords, Mr. Yuen Wah and Mrs. Yuen Qiu. She seems to be the essence of the horrible, conniving landlady while Yuen Wah appears to be the cliché of the overwhelmed husband, a fool under the control of his domineering wife. The efficiency and precision of Chow’s character work keeps us from questioning these stereotypical attributes. As the story progresses, we find out that they are both equally successful martial art fighters and have a strong sense of justice, caring for the weak and poor of Pig Sty Alley. There is no logical progression of development; it just happens. And that’s the incredible force of how Chow creates characters: he just reveals who they are.
Soundtrack
Chow’s use of music is also incredibly inventive. In Kung Fu Hustle when the Beast defeats the Landlord and Landlady, they are trapped and bound in chairs. The Landlord mentions how the fight opens up his potential, and then we hear the song, “Hero Conquer the Dadu River” gradually increase in volume and intensity. One thing that makes Chow’s use of the soundtrack so radical is that he doesn’t do the common practice of hooking up the song with the action. Instead, the song is a comment on what we would like to happen, not what is happening. After all, this heroic song is playing as the heroes are trapped and unable to move an inch.
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| Chow is a beast...of cinema |
In another scene from Kung Fu Hustle, the axe gang points their guns at the Beast and the Beast takes the guns from the gang without hesitation and shoots himself with it. At first, there is no music, just silence as the Beast catches the bullet, enjoying showing the gang how fast and nimble he is. The music hits the first note on his catch, stops, and continues shortly after the camera pans across the startled faces of the gang. Chow chooses to pause the music completely so that the audience can better focus on the Beast’s reaction. Then and only then, does the music begin to blare again. It is as if Chow knows exactly how we’re going to react and then manipulates that action for fun.
Cinematography
Chow is a master of combining incongruous shots that sharpen the pace of his films. The one-shot opening sequence from Kung Fu Hustle is a great example. The sequence opens up with a shot of the chief inspector’s badge and pans out and up to show the chief inspector in all his dignity and seriousness. The camera slowly pulls out to show the surroundings, panning up the stairs to a sign that says, “Sin Buster”. Chow suddenly cuts to a man flying through the air, breaking the sign, which now reads, “Sin Star”. The scene then transitions to an over-the-shoulder shot of the chief inspector’s shiver as he watches the man fall.
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| Every shot is an amazing shot |
Chow is always economical in his use of cuts. This makes his film efficient and information packed. He uses an acting style of gestures rather than facial expressions to portray emotions. This makes the audience wonder what the characters truly feel, while giving an abundance of information about the environment, situation, and drama happening in the story. As a director who is so straight-forward in styles, we get an overwhelming amount of information and perspectives.
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| Chow shoots from every angle |
Chow also commits and heavily focuses on the selection of shots in his films. In King of Comedy, the lead female character, Lau Piu-Piu, comes across Wan Tin-Sau when he is about to get into a sports car driven by another woman, Cuckoo. Chow cuts Cuckoo out of the shot when Wan is outside of the car, and cuts off Lau when he is inside of the car. It’s an incredible way to shoot a three-person conversation. Chow is skilled at including or excluding characters and using different shots when all the characters are present as a way of telling us both how to think about and relate to them.
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| Every moment can change what you think |
Comedy
Chow has a unique way of presenting comedy that is both unexpected and eccentric. Flirting Scholar takes place in the Ming Dynasty where Chuk Chi Shen and three other scholars visit another scholar, Tong Pak Foo. Chuk is selling paintings to pay off his gambling debts. He swears that he will never gamble again and because of that oath Tong agrees to help him one last time. Tong commands Chuk to undress and suddenly pours a bucket of black ink over his entire body, shoves the brush in his mouth and paints his body. Chow doesn’t follow the standard process of an action sequence, nor does he care for the actual physics of an action. By doing so, Chow creates more dynamic gestures and sequences, making his comedy almost unworldly.
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| Dazzling |
Another good example happens In A Chinese Odyssey, when Joker, the hero, is forced to save a Longevity Monk who is locked in a cell. Joker wants to leave, but is stopped by Monk’s word. Monk opens the cell gate himself, letting Joker in for a talk as Joker repeatedly hesitates to complete his mission. Monk asks if Joker knows what “dang dang dang'' means? Suddenly, without waiting for an answer from Joker, the Monk starts to sing the song “Only You” by The Platters. Hilariously he changes all the lyrics to reflect the plot, only keeping the line, “Only You” in English. Chow is always combining the familiar and the unexpected and that’s what makes him one of the most respected filmmakers in the world.
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| Only you, Stephen Chow |
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