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The coming Oscars ceremony may be threatened by the ongoing writers'
strike, but Chinese entertainment reporters and cineastes have one less reason
to worry about it. This week, it was announced that all three Chinese language
movies submitted for Best Foreign Language Picture consideration - from the
Chinese mainland, Hong Kong and Taiwan - failed to get on the nine-nominee
shortlist.
This may not say much about the quality of these films. Voting for a best
artistic work is capricious at best because art, as beauty, is often in the eye
of the beholder. Case in point: this year, many of the most promising movies -
the Chinese submissions not included - were snubbed in this category.
We may not like to admit it, but we look towards Western confirmation for
the excellence of Chinese films, or the lack of it. Chen Kaige did not become a
"master" until his Farewell, My Concubine took the coveted Palme d'Or. Zhang
Yimou did not secure his status until he was consistently lauded by the big
three European awards.
Our lack of an aesthetic authority or standard of our own is the result of
many factors: Our own prizes are often pretenders. They may be preceded by
lavish stage productions, but the selection process is opaque and whatever
yardsticks that can be detected smack of outdated mentalities. Our entertainment
press rarely looks beyond the box-office champions, and our academic journals
are laden with second-hand research at least 20 years out of sync with the
times.
Most of all, we do not have the self-confidence to assert our own aesthetic
standards when it comes to our own artistic work.
We Chinese have a saying: "A flower blossoms outside the wall, and its
fragrance wafts into the courtyard." That means, you'll have to leverage outside
forces to build your name inside. That is good when a genius is overlooked at
home and trumpeted overseas. If you reverse the equation, things no longer look
good.
Cultural differences exist, even in this age of globalization. In the
1980s, a widely acclaimed Chinese movie, My Memory of Old Beijing aspired for an
Oscar and failed to make the grade. Nobody in China lamented. The film had such
a quintessential Chinese style that it was only natural that outsiders did not
pick up the nuances. If we left the selection of the greatest Chinese fiction to
Western experts, Dream of the Red Mansions would never fit the bill.
I'm not advertising a psychological balancing act by discounting the
significance of Western accolades, an attitude many Chinese filmmakers have
adopted in their frustration over their perceived neglect. What I'm saying is,
we should know what is good Chinese art even when outsiders do not recognize it
because we live in this country and live the aesthetic values espoused by these
works.
One way to assert our cultural identity is to introduce to the outside
world what is truly good and great in our literary and artistic canon, not what
suits the current political winds. Familiarize opinion leaders such as media
critics, academics, agents and impresarios with these works. Their attention has
been drawn to those we tend to demonize. Beijing's 798 art community was almost
demolished until it became a favorite destination for foreign visitors. And
honestly, many of our official submissions to the Oscars are so mediocre that I
wonder if those in charge of the selection process have any clue of what is
universally considered high quality.
Do not get carried away when our traditional arts get respect. It is more
important that they are understood and appreciated. Italian opera is performed
all over the world - often by non-Italians; in comparison, Peking Opera is like
museum art.
E-mail: raymondzhou@chinadaily.com.cn |
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发表于 2016-7-9 23:44:58