Most Americans my age know Ebert as one half of the eponymous film-critic duo Siskel & Ebert, whose passionate arguments about films both good and bad comprised a much-loved television program that lasted until Siskel’s death in 1999. The two were a study in contrats; Ebert was fat and verbose, Siskel thin and reserved. Their arguments would culminate in an ultimate judgment: was the film worth watching? The two adjudicated this matter by a simple, trademarked gesture: thumbs up or thumbs down. In its day the ‘two thumps up!’ judgment would be displayed more prominently on the print ads of films than any other.

Before the Internet age few outside of Chicago, where Ebert is based, knew that the voluble fat critic was also a wonderful writer. His reviews now appear at the top of IMDBs ‘External Reviews’ list on each major film’s page, and are truly a primer in how to write about film. Many times through the years I’ve struggled to articulate a particular feeling about something I’ve watched, only to discover Ebert had captured it perfectly in his review.

Ebert keeps a journal of his thoughts on film, art, culture, and dying. It’s well-worth bookmarking, if only to celebrate a national treasure while he is still among us.

What surprised me most about the film was its seemingly leftist point of view. The heroes are pointy-headed scientists and a disabled soldier who strive to protect the indigenous population and their ancestral homeland. The two primary villains are a grizzled Marine and a weaselly corporate goon intent on destroying the forest and obtaining unobtainium, the amusingly fictional mineral resource on the fictional planet of Pandora.

Avatar is playing virtually everywhere in China, and here in Kunming we were told that we had to wait three days in order to get tickets for the 3D show. Feeling impatient, I watched the 2D version in the cinema and came away dazzled- this is definitely a must-see film even for those normally disinterested in special-effect laden sci-fi films.

It seems to me that Oliver Stone lazily compiled a list of every soundbite from the Bush administration, cobbled them together in a simplistic narrative, and hoped for the best. The part of the film documenting Bush’s young adulthood worked a little better, but still was so cliched and lame that it was a wonder why Stone even bothered.

I do believe that in the coming years, someone will make a good film about the Bush years; after all, the era was rife with intrigue. Yet W wasn’t it. I’d like to give Stone the benefit of the doubt here and blame this film on its release during the actual Bush presidency, but I can’t; it’s just a lousy movie, and a waste of several good actors.

But, as one does on a flight, I watched because there was nothing better to do. To my delight, I found that the film was set in San Francisco, and contained a number of pretty shots of the city. I remember feeling very excited that within hours I’d be there myself.

Alas, moments like these may become rare in the future. As the San Francisco Chronicle reports, high costs have deterred filmmakers from shooting in the city, instead opting for less expensive states or Canada. In the past year, the only film made entirely in San Francisco was Milk, concerning the assassination of the openly gay city supervisor in 1978. Along with Zodiac, the recent film about the Bay Area’s most notorious serial killer, the only movies being made in San Francisco these days seem to be specifically about San Francisco history.

Oh, well. If movies stop being made in my American hometown, I suppose a film industry in my Chinese home of Kunming will have to do.

- For the past two months I’ve been enrolled in two Chinese classes at my language school, one an “comprehensive” (综合) course at the intermediate level and another a class specifically designed to prepare me for the HSK exam, which I take this Sunday. The exam, needless to say, will not be easy. Although I’ve lived in China for more than three years, this is only my third semester of formal study and there are a lot of gaps in my knowledge. In order to get the results I want, I have to get at least 55% of the answers correct on each of the four exam sections, a rather daunting task.

The preparation has been equal parts frustrating and encouraging. I do feel frustrated when I botch a reading comprehension practice exam, or fail to comprehend the gist of a three-minute monologue spoken in rapid Chinese. But recently I picked up a newspaper and discovered that I can understand quite a lot, something I couldn’t say for myself as recently as this February. I’m also confident that, barring failure this time around, I’ll pass with flying colors should I have to re-take the exam in November.

- In late March, the cold, wet winter stopped and spring finally arrived: Kunming’s best season. For the past three weeks, we’ve enjoyed nearly non-stop sunshine and temperatures approaching 30 degrees (high 80s) without undue humidity. As a result, I’ve been enjoying the great outdoors more than before. I’ve taken two separate trips to beautiful Fuxian Lake, located about 140 kilometers south of Kunming. I also accompanied my friends on a decent bike journey (26 kilometers round-trip) to a reservoir located near the city’s western hills. For a native Californian, being able to go swimming again has been blissful. I can only hope the good weather will continue up until the inevitable arrival of the rainy season sometime in early June.

-Two friends of mine received a pregnant cat, and as happens, a litter resulted. I offered to adopt one of the kittens, a springy little dude I’ve dubbed Chairman Meow (yes, unoriginal, but I couldn’t resist. I mostly call him Chairman). I haven’t had cats around since I was a small child and on both occasions the little buggers ran away. I’m hoping to make amends this time around, though I fear for the upholstery on my sofa.

- Been watching a lot of movies lately. The best I’ve seen has been Juno, a comedy about a teen pregnancy that’s fresh and funny. I also really enjoyed Persepolis, an adaptation of the graphic novels of Marjane Satrapi, an Iranian who grew up during the revolution and later emigrated to France. Fantastic graphics, and a touching story.

I’ve also seen two films that managed to combine vulgarity with sweetness, with varying results. The first was Clerks II, the sequel to the mid-90s vintage Clerks, a film I found hysterical when I was a teenager. The second version is largely the same, but the jokes are mostly raunchy for the sake of raunchiness and I found the romantic bit contrived and sappy. I usually don’t criticize unrealistic pairings of mediocre men with gorgeous women (movies are a fantasy, remember), but the pairing of the lame, unattractive, and miserable Dante with the stunningly sexy Rosario Dawson just…wasn’t…convincing…enough.

Superbad was much better. I love high school teen comedies, and this is one of the best I’ve seen. Like in Clerks II, the dialogue is risque but for some reason it seemed more natural, perhaps because I was in high school less than a decade ago and can definitely relate. Also, the story had a sweetness that didn’t feel forced, and I liked were the film’s female protagonists: they weren’t twenty-seven year old supermodels but normal looking teenagers, and I liked how they were just as irreverent and sassy as the boys who were chasing them. Highly recommended.

Everyone knew Mike- he was tall, gaunt, and long-haired with a beard that would have impressed even ZZ Top. As a relatively recent arrival, I only had the chance to meet Mike a handful of times, but in each instance he was always gracious and kind. At his memorial service, I knew I was far from the only one to have had that impression of him. He was a wonderfully idiosyncratic character- a man “more comfortable in his own skin than anyone else I’ve met” in the words of a mutual friend. The longer I sat and listened to stories of Mike, the better I wished I had known him.

At my birthday party two weeks ago, a friend of mine brought along a DVD memorial that Mike’s brother had made in his memory. He lent it to a Chinese friend of mine, and she later showed it to me one evening.

The video contained several interviews with Mike’s best friends, an international collection of Kunmingites who had known him best. Rather than reconstruct the events of Mike’s life, or offer summary assessments of the man, those interviewed simply told “Mike stories”. There was the time he rode into the countryside and dined with a local peasant family, the tale of how he was so deliberate when playing Risk he would sometimes take nearly an hour to complete his turn, of how he would gather his friends from all walks of life together for dinner and drinks, and of how he loved long, philosophical arguments. I felt, upon finishing the video, that I had a clear picture of the man. I knew little of his background, of his family, of his occupation, even, but from listening to these stories I somehow “knew” him well.

In an expat community, one is immediately classified by age, nationality, and occupation. These, after all, are the first questions anyone asks you when you meet. What made Mike’s memorial video so moving, then, was its emphasis on his character, as related through anecdotes. It didn’t matter that he was in his 40s, was from the US, or that he sold hemp products to make a living. Somehow, hearing about his prowess in trivia competitions or his love of costume parties conveyed so much more, and made his memorial video so poignant.

Despite its graphic sex scenes, “Lust, Caution” seemed to present a more-or-less politically acceptable viewpoint on recent Chinese history, and as such was widely shown (though censored) throughout the nation’s cinemas. An effective compromise appeared to be reached.

Yet according to the Hollywood Reporter, actress Tang Wei (who played the lead female part, Wong Chia Chi) has been blacklisted in the Chinese media due to her participation in the film. Her star turn had led to endorsement deals from advertisers, but now these will be revoked. She and others involved in the production of “Lust, Caution” will also be shut out of any film awards ceremonies. It is unclear what prompted authorities to wait until now (months after the film’s international release) to implement such a crack-down.

For Tang Wei, this news must be most unfortunate. Unlike several of her co-stars, she was not an internationally known actor prior to the film’s release. In fact, for the 28-year old, “Lust, Caution” was her first major role. The blacklist reeks of sexism, too. Her counterpart, Tony Leung, arguably revealed just as much of his body but has thus far avoided any heavy-handed response from Chinese authorities. He apparently is lucky enough to be a major star as well as a Hong Kong native (rather than Wei who hails from the mainland).

The Chinese government has long been sensitive to artistic expressions viewed as insufficiently patriotic. Yet “Lust, Caution” was written by a Chinese, directed by a Chinese, and acted in by Chinese. This was no hit job by vindictive foreigners, and in fact the “heroic” characters of the film were Chinese patriots resisting the Japanese occupation and its Chinese Quislings. That the film attracted political controversy at all remains somewhat mystifying.

But what’s odder yet is the timing. Why did China wait until now, when anyone who wanted to see the film already has? Furthermore, the prevalence of DVDs and internet downloads means that no one really can be stopped from having a look- if anything, blacklisting Tang Wei will only increase “Lust, Caution”s publicity.

It’s hard to see what the government hoped to achieve from this hubbub. The end result, sadly, will be destroying the career of an exceptionally talented and brave young actress.

(Hollywood Reporter link via ESWN. More coverage from Danwei)

Choosing Kunming as the center for movie studios actually makes quite a bit of sense. Hollywood, after all, was ideal for the American film industry due to its consistently pleasant weather. A studio based in Kunming can count on quite a few sunny days as well as take advantage of Yunnan’s incredible scenery.

And, if the current traffic congestion on Kunming’s streets continue, we can be rest assured that the similarities to Los Angeles will not end with simply the film industry.

The Chinese do, however, have a relative paucity of last names. Scanning through my phone now, I’m reminded that about 3/4ths of my Chinese friends seem to be called 陈 (Chen)，李 (Li)， or å¼  (Zhang). Chinese movie stars, at least, often adopt an English name, which alleviates confusion somewhat. But not completely, which brings me to the topic of this post. I am guilty of confusing the two Tony Leungs.

At first glance, I can be forgiven. They’re both about the same age. They’ve appeared in both Chinese and foreign films, a few of which received wide international release. They’re both from Hong Kong, and they both have slightly darker skin than the average Chinese. But none of this matters- they’re completely different people.

The first Tony Leung, called Tony Leung Chiu Wai, appeared most recently in Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution, an internationally acclaimed film controversial due to its explicit sex content. The second Tony Leung, called Tony Leung Ka Fai, appeared most recently in Lost in Beijing (苹果), an internationally acclaimed film controversial due to its explicit sexual content. Tony Leung Chiu Wai (hereafter referred to as TLCW) plays a powerful older man who has an extramarital affair with a beautiful young woman. Tony Leung Ka Fai (now re-christened as TLKF) plays a rich older man who has an extramarital affair with a beautiful young woman.

When I saw Lost in Beijing in the cinema, my friend said, “oh, it was Tony Leung”. I was initially dubious but didn’t think much of it. I mostly was impressed with the (combo) Tony Leung’s range: he can go from a coolly elegant Cantonese to a gruff Beijingren without missing a beat. Why, it’s as if he wasn’t the same person! But how many Tony Leung’s can there be?

Then last night, while popping in the early 90s French art-house film L’Amant, I noticed that Tony Leung was featured alongside the nubile British actress Jane March. More Tony! This time, the dashing young Tony speaks fluent French and is a rich Chinese heir living a playboy’s life in 1920s Saigon. True to form, he plays an older man who has a forbidden (though not extramarital) affair with a beautiful young woman. Is he the luckiest man in film*, or what?

In came IMDB to the rescue. As you have probably figured out by now, TLCW was the man in Lust, Caution, while TLFK was the star of both Lost in Beijing and L’Amant. Embarrassingly, they don’t even really look that much alike. Here they are, respectively:

Something tells me I’m not the only one to have made this mistake.

*The luckiest man in film, incidentally, is Steve Zahn: a good character actor who nonetheless looks like the guy who sold you weed in college. Zahn has the distinction of simultaneously nuzzling the breasts of Salma Hayek and Penelope Cruz in the western film Bandidas. In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, and to boost my page view:

UPDATE: Chris in the comments points out a rather sizable error in my post: in Lost in Beijing, Tony Leung Ka Fai actually plays a Hong Konger living in Beijing, not a local. I should have known better, especially as I was just in Beijing a week ago! My bad.

Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution might be the highest-profile Chinese film to be released internationally in years. Yet within China itself, the full version of the film is prohibited due to its explicit sexual content. Instead, Chinese audiences (both in cinemas and via the country’s ubiquitous pirated DVD shops) saw the truncated version with all of the sex scenes edited out. This was the version I saw when a friend bought me the DVD two or so months ago.

I was impressed enough with the film to want to see it in its entirety, even after one of my friends here downplayed the significance of the sex scenes. She said she found them rather gratuitous, and added that she almost would have preferred the censored version. I still wanted to see for myself. Yesterday, on a rainy Saturday afternoon, I finally got my chance.

And….wow. The sex scenes really made a difference. My friend and I both agreed that without the sex, it would be difficult to understand the degree of emotional intensity between Wong Chia Chi and Mr. Yee, the collaborationist official she slept with in order to set him up to be killed. Indeed, the sex served as a synecdoche of their entire relationship. Yee applies his brutal interrogation tactics in the bedroom, while the subservient Wong, despite her burning hatred for him, still cannot avoid letting him worm into her heart.

It is my understanding that Lee did not intend his sex scenes to be purely erotic- and they weren’t. Eroticism, of course, does not require nudity or explicit sex, and can be expressed in the subtlest gestures that would evade even the strictest Chinese censors. Rather, it is during these scenes when his two main characters are stripped bare of not only their clothes but also their facades, allowing them to act upon their basest instincts. Wong Chia Chi’s entire existence is marked by caution- she must not reveal her real identity. Lust, as Lee presents it, is the yin to caution’s yang, and it is during her trysts with Mr. Yee that she achieves a long-awaited release.

Although my overall impression of the film didn’t change (I liked it both times), I felt relieved that I was able to watch it in its entirety. The censored parts, when included, simply illuminated the film’s emotional relationships with a clearer light.

So why was the original version of the film banned, rather than restricted, in China? The historical content in Lust, Caution is entirely consistent with the government-mandated Chinese interpretation, and the film’s fictional university students (one of whom criticized a foreign play as “bourgeois”) could even be seen as nationalist heroes with a Marxist slant. Obviously, its sexual content renders the film unsuitable for children but does the government really expect the sight of Tony Leung’s bottom or Wei Tang’s breasts would somehow foment disharmony and instability among the nation’s adults?

I write this not as a criticism of China per se, and American culture also has a tortured relationship with sex and nudity, at least in comparison with our more libertine European cousins. But I do think it is worth lamenting that an important film concerning their history cannot be shown in its entirety within China.