Posted December. 24, 2001 08:38,
Last week, I went to Beijing to prepare for the third International Film Festival. Although it was a brief trip, I had several opportunities to hear about the current state of Chinese cinema from Chinese participants.
Many people said that Chinese cinema is going through a transition period where the kind of internationally renowned, exuberant works of the Fifth Generation filmmakers are disappearing and nothing comparable is being produced. Does this mean that Chinese cinema is in a slump as the film industry is becoming capitalist.
The main topic of conversation was naturally how to block Hollywood from pressuring to open the film market. Chinese filmmakers were awed and impressed by the fact that Korean filmmakers persistently protected its screen quarters under hard circumstances and increased the domestic film market by over 40 percent.
The problems that trouble Chinese filmmakers after China`s entry in the WTO seem to be manifold and many-sided. Of course, it was hard to tell from brief conversations with several individuals what particular problem troubled them the most and what solutions they were forming. One thing that was clear, however, was that the film industry had to move toward the direction of greater autonomy without quick loosening of state control.
Furthermore, introduction of privatization in production and distribution is proceeding with caution and there will not be any sudden, radical changes.
It also seems that the problem of state inspection, which fundamentally restricts creativity, will not be solved any time soon.
But the words of one Chinese filmmaker, `In the end, time will resolve everything` showed the characteristic calm and patience of the Chinese, and the confidence of a people whose nation is daily rising in international importance.
The conversations made me keenly aware that Chinese and Korean filmmakers need to cooperate and exchange not only on the material level, but also on the level of mental attitude. Simultaneously, I felt a basic cultural barrier and even a psychological barrier.
I felt a sense of frustration and powerlessness, as if an obstacle that could not be resolved simply by an exchange of cinema information and exchange. The obstacle was not merely one of language. It felt like something deeper was blocking me inside.
The sensation felt different from the kind of frustration I feel when I meet other foreigners. It wasn`t the kind of blocked communication, initial discomfort, or the helpless ignorance one feels with other foreigners. The feeling was at once familiar and strange.
The thought that Chinese people will forever remain foreign to us despite the commonalities in ethnicity, geography, and culture crossed my mind time to time.
May be it is because I was finally interacting with Chinese people. The shared Confucian heritage or Chinese characters felt completely meaningless, and at the same time I wondered whether the distance created by half a century of ideological and political differences has become a definitive, irreversible obstacle for the present and the future. Then again, what do I know about today`s or tomorrow`s Chinese.
How can we understand the complex situation in which Chinese cinema and filmmakers find themselves solely on the information we gather from their films. I think mutual understanding begins by acknowledging not only differences in film but the entire life of the people.
If, therefore, we want a genuine interaction and exchange with Chinese people, we will have to look at the differences first rather than simply looking for commonalities in history and daily life. We will have to keep in mind that the nebulous notion that we are all the same because we are East Asians can actually be a hindrance to mutual exchange.
Choi Min (The Korean National University of Arts, Aesthetics, Guest Editorial Staff Writer)