Shaw Brothers

Lovers' Rock

A refreshing change from Shaw Brothers' normally over-dramatic dramas, Lovers' Rock delivers the drama, but keeps the hysterics to a minimum. Instead of the usual credulity-straining trials of a star-crossed couple, director Pan Lei focuses on small town characters and a mostly believable love triangle.

Lovers' Rock was Pan Lei debut film with Shaw Brothers, but he wasn’t new to filmmaking. As a writer and director Pan had worked in the Taiwanese film industry since the late 1950s. To Shaw Brothers, Pan probably seemed the perfect package — an intelligent, literary director that had connections with a group of Taiwanese actors and experience working under Taiwan’s single-party, martial-law government. Could there be any better combination for a studio looking to expand their market share in the island nation?

And so Pan’s first film for the Hong Kong studio was filmed in Taiwan, with an almost all-Taiwanese cast (mostly actors that had, I expect, previously worked with Pan Lei) about a Taiwanese fishing village. Gee, I wonder who this film was made for?

Regardless of why Shaw Brothers hired Pan Lei, the studio ended up with a smart, flexible and talented filmmaker with some serious writing skills. While at Shaws, Pan worked in worked in nearly every genre. And with films like Lovers' Rock and The Fastest Sword, he beefed up normally thin genre films with thoughtful scripts and smart acting.

The plot of Lovers' Rock was pretty common fare in the early 1960s — doomed lovers and family dramas were the building blocks of most Shaw Brothers weepies. So when outsider Qin Yu (Chiao Chuang) falls for the coquettish but confusing Lin Qiuzi (Cheng Pei Pei), everything feels very familiar.

But Pan surrounds this plot with a mostly scruffy-looking assortment of character actors, many of whom worked with Pan Lei throughout his career, that provide the small fishing town with a believable population and a solid foundation for the action. This sort of attention to small roles was uncommon at the star-focused studio, as was Pan’s focus on strong, realistic acting.

Well, mostly strong acting. Lovers' Rock's main stumbling block is its male star, Chiao Chuang. I’ve never cared for his abilities as an actor and in Lovers' Rock he’s required to channel a James Dean attitude that he never achieves. The gruff, flawed character of fisherman Da Gui (Huang Chung Hsin) is always more interesting than Qin — it’s a shame he’s missing for one-third of the movie.

The third star, Cheng Pei Pei, would become a major Shaw actress after Lovers' Rock. But after 1966’s Come Drink With Me, it was rare to see her in modern-day roles. She acquits herself well here as the confused and confusing modern teenager Lin Qiuzi.

With Lovers' Rock, Pan Lei established himself as a unique voice at Shaw Brothers. Currently, only a smattering of his films are on DVD; I’m looking forward to seeing more.

Lovers' Rock
Dir: Pan Lei
Released: October 17, 1964

The Singing Killer

What’s strange about The Singing Killer is not the musical numbers, or David Chiang’s laggardly lip-synching. It’s that Chang Cheh took his most dynamic, charming star and turned him into a nearly lifeless lump. For most of the film, Chiang’s gold lamé pants are ten times more exciting than the man wearing them.

Granted, Johnny, the titular singing killer, is supposed to be moody and preoccupied; as his singing career launches him to stardom, Johnny longs for the girl he lost and worries that his criminal past will destroy his life. But Chiang takes this conflicted character and drains him of energy. Even during his upbeat musical numbers, he looks dreary and static.

Without Chiang’s dynamism, there’s very little to prop up the film’s factory-standard plot. Chang Cheh continues the migration from swordplay films to kung fu films with the film’s early action scenes, which feature some nice fisticuffs. But by the film’s end, most of the fighting is done with guns, and is not nearly as interesting.

Even for die-hard fans of David Chiang/Ti Lung pairings, the film has very little to offer. Ti Lung has one line in the film and appears, briefly, in two scenes. Vengeance! this is not.

The Singing Killer
Dir: Chang Cheh
Released: December 22, 1970

Apartment For Ladies

Thanks to movies like Apartment for Ladies, I now know how women spend their time when men are not around. Let me share my new found knowledge.

• 50% of their time is spent parading around in their underwear
• 30% is spent in catfights
• 10% is spent using their sexuality to swindle stupid men
• 10% is spent attacking men who steal their underwear

That’s pretty much it. The secret life of women in a nutshell.

Inoue Umetsugu showcased Shaw’s female stars in a way that no other director did—he made them glamorous, clever, powerful and sexy. But, in films like Apartment For Ladies he also pigeonholed and mocked them. What do the heroines do when taking revenge on a couple of swindlers and rapists? Bump them with their hips and tickle them.

While Inoue’s gender comedies are all in the spirit of good fun, they become exasperating during moments like these. Apartment for Ladies' ensemble cast includes several generations of female stars—Ouyang Shafei, Teresa Ha Ping, Lily Li and Betty Ting Pei. With all this experience and star power, tickling is the best they can do?

It might be unfair to attack a comedy for a scene it plays for laughs, but the tickling is just a symptom of a larger problem. Where Inoue once made films that showcased women (such as Hong Kong Nocturne), in Apartment For Ladies he instead showcases stereotypes. It’s much less satisfying.

Apartment For Ladies
Dir: Inoue Umetsugu
Released: November 20, 1970

A Time For Love

Another madcap ‘comedy’ replete with singing, brief nudity and largely unwatchable zaniness. Honestly, when the comic highlight of a film is a sexually aggressive robot, there’s not much to laugh at.

On the plus side, the film does have some moments of fine satire, especially in the opening scenes when the servants of the rich Old Lau sing about how great it is to rob the old man blind. And Lily Ho as Pearl, the servant’s daughter who falls for the Lau scion, shows some decent comedic instincts.

While A Time For Love is slightly better than its predecessor, Guess Who Killed My 12 Lovers, it still runs out of steam about 45 minutes into its 90 minute length. By the time the film introduces the rapist robot, it’s clear that they are stretching for anything to keep the movie moving. It succeeds, if only because it’s so jaw-droppingly mind-boggling.

A Time For Love
Dir: Kuei Chi-Hung
Released: November 16, 1970

Guess Who Killed My 12 Lovers?

During the 1960s, Shaw Brothers transformed from a Female-oriented film studio to a Male-oriented one. The romances and operas that began the decade gave way to swordplay, spy films and war dramas.

Tho sole holdout genre from Shaw’s more feminine days was the wenyi drama — weepy romances usually adapted from novels. But as the 60s came to a close, so did the wenyi drama.

Never one to abandon an audience, the studio tried other ways to bring women to the theater. But instead of appealing to the older women that flocked to wenyi and haungmei opera, Shaw targeted teenage girls with pop musicals like Guess Who Killed My 12 Lovers.

The quality of Guess Who and other teen girl films from the early 70s indicate that Shaw didn’t put a very high priority on these films. Put simply, these films are horrible. With about 15 minutes worth of plot, Guess Who pads itself out to 90 minutes with songs that recap the silk-thin plot, and bizarre digressions.

But as long as the films brought audiences into Shaw-owned movie theaters, I doubt the studio cared that much about the movie’s quality.

Poor Jenny Hu, a star that Shaw Brothers never figured out how to sell, sings and smiles her way through Guess Who, looking only mildly embarrassed to be stuck in an orange bathing suit for most of the movie. It should not come as a surprise that Guess Who was her last film with Shaw Brothers.

Guess Who Killed My 12 Lovers?
Dir: Wu Chia Hsang
Released: September 11, 1970

Love Without End

Whenever a film goes through the remake process, I have to ask why. Only nine years had passed since Love Without End charmed audiences in 1961. Why remake a film that’s not even a decade old? Why remake a film forever linked with Linda Lin Dai, Shaw’s biggest, and first tragic, star.

So, why? Nine years may seem like a short time, but the Shaw Brothers of 1961 was still a small, growing studio battling with rival MP & GI for box office supremacy. What better way to charge into a new decade than with a remake that helped launch the studio into the 1960s?

And what better way to solidify a potential new star? Jenny Hu had been working at Shaw since 1966, but he career didn’t really start to move until 1969, when she started in 3 films. By putting her into a high-profile remake of a classic film, perhaps Shaw Brothers hoped to create another super star.

But nothing puts a filmmaker more firmly between a rock and a hard place than remaking a classic. Deviate from the original too much, and the fans will cry foul. Stay too close to the source, and there’s no reason to remake the film.

Director and writer Pan Lei takes the safe route and, with the exception of the colorful sets and short mini-skirts, his version of Love Without End might as well take place in 1961.

That’s not to say the film is bad—the remake is as good as the original, and it’s beautifully made. It just never differentiates itself from its predecessor. And the changes it does make only take the harsh edges off the male lead, Tang Pengnan (Ling Yun). And few films are well served by making their characters less interesting.

If Pan Lei’s Love Without End wasn’t a remake, it would stand out as one of their romantic classics. Instead, it’s simply a high-quality shadow.

Love Without End
Director: Pan Lei
Released: July 18, 1970

Pink Tears

Chin Chien’s first feature for Shaw Brothers, Pink Tears presaged the work he’d do for the studio over the next five years — small-budget wenyi weepies that exhibit flashes of creativity amidst long dry spells of wrote formula.

Pink Tears also paired Chin Chien with star Julie Yeh Feng for the first time. Like Chin Chien, Yeh Feng had recently moved over to Shaw after a long career in the film industry. Neither stayed with Shaw Brothers for very long — Chin Chien committed suicide in 1969, Yeh Feng retired from film in 1970 — but the pair made two more movies together that continued Chin Chien’s tradition of erratic output — the terrible Unfinished Melody and the creative Farewell, My Love.

In Pink Tears, Julie Yeh Feng plays Bai Lilan, a hooker with the heart of gold. Widowed after giving birth to her first child, she’s sold her looks to pay for her daughter’s care. Although her high-rolling lifestyle has made her dangerously ill, she still pushes herself — spending late nights at parties and the rest of her time with her daughter, Xiaolan (Fung Bo Bo).

When Xiaolan’s music teacher, Zhang Zhi Ping (Ling Yuen), discovers Bai’s dual lives, he’s shocked. How can a courtesan also be a good mother? After Bai’s illness gets worse, he convinces her to give up being a kept woman and marry him. Damn what society thinks, Zhang promises, their love will prevail.

If you’ve ever seen a wenyi film, you can probably guess how well Zhang’s promise holds up.

Other than Julie Yeh Feng’s raucous rendition of the film’s theme song, and a few melodramatic cliff hangers, Pink Tears doesn’t really stand out amongst the wenyi crowd.

Pink Tears
Dir: Chin Chien
Released: May 27, 1965

Vengeance!

Chang Cheh bookends Vengeance! with battle scenes from Chinese operas in which the dying hero, streaming blood, fights his enemies until the bitter end. And, just in case we missed the similarities between these operatic snippets and the film we’re watching, Chang intercuts plenty of opera into the film’s many battles.

But, as hard as he tries, Chang never quite builds a flawless bridge connectiong Chinese Opera and his heroic bloodshed genre flicks. The Japanese influences are too obvious; the almost ritual disemboweling, the white robes, the unquestioned honor of dying as a warrior. The movie could as easily be called Seppuku!.

Vengeance! is Chang’s revenge genre at it’s most stripped down. No time is wasted on elaborate plot twists or other frivolities. All of the film’s energy is focused on its elaborate and entertaining fights—the story (Yulou (Ti Lung) is killed for defending his wife’s honor so his brother, Xiaolou (David Chiang), comes to avenge the murder by killing everyone involved) is merely a formality.

That terseness carries over to Chiang; his stern and streamlined performance breaks from the raffish, genial wanderer he played in The Wandering Swordsman. In Vengeance! Chiang’s only moments of happiness come from his love, Zhengfeng (Wang Ping). The rest of the time he’s a dour force of nature.

But Zhengfeng never poses much of threat to Xiaolou’s suicidal revenge trip; nothing can get between Xiaolou and his glorious ending. And the film delivers the goods we’ve anticipated since seeing the blood-soaked opening title — bowels are rent, blood is squirt, vengeance is executed. With an title as imperative as Vengeance!, what other options are there?

Vengeance!
Released: May 14, 1970
Dir: Chang Cheh

My Son

In my reviews of Shaw Brothers melodramas, I frequently critique them for their formulaic predictability—a heroine (tragic, of course) finds herself in a situation beyond her control and sacrifices herself for the good of others. Imagine my surprise to find that in 1970, when these wenyi melodramas were being phased out of Shaw studios, screenwriter, poet and director Lo Chen turned out a unique melodrama featuring an unlikely star, Jimmy Wang Yu.

Reminiscent of “social-problem” films like Summer Heat, My Son is the nasty, pessimistic tragedy of Yang Kuo Liang (Wang Yu) and his girlfriend Mui Lin (Margaret Hsing Hui). Angry and rich, Yang argues with his father (Tien Feng) and fights anyone who pisses him off, which is everyone. But when he’s with Mui Lin, Yang’s angry demeanor subsides. He takes her boating, pays for her sister’s medical care and promises to keep her from harm.

Sadly, Yang’s promises last as long as his patience and the couple’s situation declines in a series of painful tragedies, almost all of which are instigated by Yang’s pig-headed anger, fear of responsibility and shirking of responsibility.

Having a film’s star be both unlikable and at fault for the pain of others was a rare step for Shaw. The stars of their other melodramas were praised, and the tragedies that befell them were either unavoidable, or instigated for the good of others.

Yang is a unique anti-hero in Shaw melodramas, and that’s not the kind of role I’d expect Jimmy Wang Yu to play. And as much as I’d like to say that My Son gave Wang the stereotype-busting kind role that allows him to exhibit his real skills, that’s simply untrue—Wang simply wasn’t that good; My Son shows why he was better suited to roles that required less complicated acting.

Wang’s acting is not the film’s only stumbling block; an exploitative scene or two combined with a stupefying Wu Ma as a “hippy” throw the film off its game. However, the hippy’s “crazy freak out” party does lead to the film’s best quote, “We are the mystifying generation!”

Fumbles aside, the film is far better than other contemporary melodramas. After Shaw Brothers had wrung the life out of the wenyi genre, it’s nice to see an attempt, even an uneven one, to resuscitate the genre.

My Son
Dir: Lo Chen
Released: June 25, 1970

The Five Billion Dollar Legacy

Director Inoue Umetsugu, who delivered stylish Shaw Brothers musicals like Hong Kong Nocturne and King Drummer (which hasn’t yet been re-released on DVD, but I’ve seen clips that look fantastic), serves up this not-particularly-stylish, only occasionally interesting and excessively-plotted “horror” movie.

Three women, all living in Hong Kong, receive letters from their heretofore unknown father, a wealthy Chinese businessman who has settled into a spooky bell-tower under the shadow of Mount Fuji. Near death, the repentant Lin wants to meet his daughters and give them a part of his fortune.

The women, the blind-but-strong Peng Jing Xian (Margaret Hsing Hui), the nice girl Situ Pei Fang (Wong Ping) and the slutty con artist Li Rong Rong (Gwok Maan Loh), all head for Japan. And, in one of those only-in-movies moments, meet each other for the first time on the plane, where they are all sitting in the same row. “Oh, you’re going to Japan to meet your wealthy father? What a coincidence, so am I!”

Once in Japan, ugly blotches appear in the women’s rags-to-riches fantasy. Their arrogant half-brother Peter wants them to leave—or that’s what he says when he’s not trying to seduce and/or rape them. (side note: it’s interesting that unlikable characters in Shaw Brothers films frequently sport English names) Even worse, a sudden change in the will leaves all the money to Peter and a ghost begins haunting the isolated home.

After a lengthy plot involving blackmail, nude scenes, jealous boyfriends, murder, attempted murder, vehicular assault, squeaky shoes, sign language, forced marriage and triple-crossing criminals (really, this is far more plot than should be shoe-horned into a 90-minute film) the bad guys are taken care of and the women, who never really wanted the money, just the love of a father, head back to Hong Kong.

Trapped in the drab set of Lin’s countryside manor, Inoue Umetsugu can deploy little of his visual flair or love of colors. And, although parts of the film appear to have been filmed in Japan, most of it is stuck in the studio, bereft of atmosphere, which is the feature necessary to horror films that Five Billion Dollar Legacy most lacks.

The Five Billion Dollar Legacy
Dir: Inoue Umetsugu
Released: March 19, 1970