Shaw Brothers

The Dancing Millionairess

Can a film honestly be called a musical if it contains no signing for the first ninety-percent of the movie? What if it also contains almost no dancing? Maybe defining a musical more a question of style instead of content.

For 97 minutes of its 109 minute running time, no one sings in The Dancing Millionairess. And the film’s first dance routine isn’t until minute 45 (yes, I kept track). And while the movie ends with a celebration of singing and dancing, the film still feels pretty barren when it comes to musical numbers.

But yet The Dancing Millionairess still feels like a musical, even in its talkiest moments. The tone is light, the pace bouncy, the colors bright and the stars polished. It’s got everything a musical needs — except for the singing.

One of the tricks to making a musical, at least a musical in the Hollywood style, is to create a world in which people breaking into song is not abnormal. For example, the highly artificial set-design used in classic Gene Kelly films helped to create a sense of other-worldliness that helped make the singing more normal. West Side Story opens with a perception-changing top-down view of Manhattan, in the hopes that singing gang-members will seem less bizarre.

Perhaps after watching tons of MGM musicals, I’ve come to associate their visual aesthetic with the musical genre. So any film that apes this style, which The Dancing Millionairess frequently does, becomes a musical in my mind — even if there’s almost no signing.

And so Doe Chin recreates the successful style he used in the earlier, more musical musical Les Belles, dropping most of the singing in favor of poetic narration and replacing complicated dance routines with light, poppish boogieing — leaving much of the movie’s charm in the hands of real-life couple Peter Chen Ho and Betty Loh Tih.

The pair does well, especially once they are allowed to unite on-screen — a gratification that is delayed far too long. The film’s highlights are their scenes of content relaxation.

Sadly, those scenes are few. Most of the film is muddled by an exceedingly complex romantic-comedy plot that I could not explain even if wanted to. All that really matters is that there’s a dance troupe that wants to put on a show and corporate president Betty Loh Tih has the money they need — cue the misunderstandings, cute meetings and jaunty music.

Although The Dancing Millionairess ends on a crowd-pleasing high, there’s not much positive to say about the preceding 90 minutes. The film never really hits a comedic stride; instead it just bumbles along until its stars can finally share the screen. Musical or not, the film is far from Shaw’s, or Doe Chin’s, best.

The Dancing Millionairess
Dir: Doe Chin
Released: February 12, 1964

The Adultress

Like the previous year's Yang Kwei Fei, 1963's The Adultress adapts a famously tragic story into a showcase for Li Li-hua. Unlike Yang Kwei Fei, The Adultress doesn't have to excise chunks of its source material in order to make its star likable. The result is not only a more coherent film, but a far better performance from its prolific star.

Adapted from an opera, and maybe from an even older story, The Adultress retains is musical heritage, but it's hard to think of it in the same category as Shaw's other early 60s musicals. Although classified as a haungmei film, The Adultress' songs are few and far between, usually only appearing at the moments of strongest emotion. The rest of the film is plain-spoken drama, free to focus on its story of corrupted justice and the painful sacrifices of unrequited lovers Xiao Bai and Yang Nai Wu.

Sold into marriage as a child, Xiao Bai (Li Li-hua) pines for her brief but unfulfilled love affair with the gifted scholar Yang Nai Wu (Kwan Shan). Though she loves Yang, Xiao Bai remains faithful to her sullen husband, Xiao Du (Zhu Mu). Not that the gossipy villagers care, their endless taunting only enflames Xiao Du's jealousy.

After catching the eye of Liu (Peter Kang Kwan), son of the local magistrate, Xiao Bai is drugged and raped by her spoiled stalker. Shamed and afraid, she won't tell her husband about the attack. But the jealous husband spots the evidence of Liu's attack and immediately blames Yang.

After Xiao Du is killed by an increasingly creepy Liu, Xiao Bai and Yang are accused of murder and thrown onto the non-existent mercy of the Chinese courts.

Corrupt judges, bribed witnesses and confessions extracted via torture--these and other various brutalities of the Chinese judicial system consume most of the rest movie. It's all very dramatic and nerve-wracking, and excellent work from both Kwan Shan and Li Li-hua makes the already compelling story more engrossing.

Unlike many Shaw Brothers weepies, its very hard to guess how The Adultress will end. Most Shaw dramas clearly telegraph their stories, relying on the over-the-top emotion to draw audiences in. I imagine that the story was familiar enough to Chinese audiences that they would already have known the ending. But it was all new to me and I was glad that the film kept me on my toes.

In Yang Kwei Fei, Li Li-hua had to work against the abbreviated film in order to deliver an appealing performance. But in The Adultress she could work with the strong story and dramatic direction to deliver a great performance.

The Adultress
Dir: Ho Meng-hua & Li Han-siang
Released: August 9, 1963

Return of the Phoenix

One of the few huangmei diao comedies, Return Of The Phoenix delivers a light alternative to the genre’s usually overwrought plots — and romance, of course. You can’t have huangmei diao without romance.

As with most huangmei films, the plot is whipped-foam light. Mu  (Chin Feng), a young fighter from a disgraced family, is engaged to Xue-e (Lee Heung-gwan), beautiful youngest daughter of a former general. But through the machinations of Xueyan, the general’s oldest and least attractive daughter, Mu believes that he’s engaged to a deluded, slutty reject.

Meanwhile, Xue-e’s also being pursued by another admirer, Prince Chu (Cheung Kwong-Chiu), the moronic bucktoothed nephew of the Emperor. Let the comedy begin!

Most of the comedy comes from mistaken identity and the unattractiveness of the Xueyan and Chu. And, for the most part, it’s pretty simplistic stuff. Unlike The Bride Napping, another comedy with huangmei roots, there’s nothing very witty about Return of the Phoenix, despite the presence of two of Shaw’s best comic actors, Go Bo Shu and Cheung Kwong-Chiu.

At least there was nothing that witty in what I saw. But I’m severely handicapped when it comes to huangmei films. With their simple music and familiar plots, one of the main draws of huangmei films was their lyrics. Since I don’t speak Mandarin, I’m going to miss any puns, allusions or bon mots that might be hiding in the words. I’m entirely dependent on the subtitles, and subtitles have a way of hiding humor.

So it’s possible that Return Of The Phoenix may be the funniest thing since a drunk Oscar Wilde. I wouldn’t know.

Return of the Phoenix
Dir: Kao Li & Li Han-hsiang
Released: July 24, 1963