Through
our glimpse into Hong Kong cinema, we have familiarized ourselves with Kung Fu
movies and gangster films. One of the
most prominent concepts that connected all four of the films we watched is the
liberal use of overt violence. Violence
is an interesting topic, because we are all familiar with it, but we don’t
necessarily experience it in our day-to-day lives. However, in our modern age, violence finds
its way into almost every type of media we consume. By taking a deeper look into the four HK films
we have watched, I hope to form reasonable explanations as to why violence is so
heavily used, how it may enhance creative expression, and what it has to say
about society as a whole.
Films
are a form of escapism; they allow the audience to vicariously experience
things that may be impossible or impermissible in real life. As humans, we all have the capability to
commit acts of violence, but most of us refrain due to our personal convictions
and/or external influences. When
violence is introduced into a situation, it seems to heighten the situation’s
significance. A man begging for money on
the street can be easily ignored, but if that same man threatens you with a
knife, the situation becomes a matter of life and death. Through the use of violence, the stakes are
raised. We can be made to care a lot
more about almost anything, especially if we know that there is a huge margin
between what can be lost and gained.
Violence
isn’t just a raising of stakes; it’s also a form of human expression. The art of Kung Fu allows the wielder to use
their body in magnificent ways, showing off their dedication and physical
prowess. In “The Big Boss,” Bruce Lee
uses Kung Fu to express the duality of withholding one’s ability to harm and unleashing
one’s ferocious wrath. Lee is brought
into a situation where he learns of corruption, crime, and cold-blooded
murder. In real life, we are restrained
by countless forces, limiting the ways we can act towards a situation. Within the world of film, Lee has the
capability to express the full range of human behavior. Being true to his character, he is still
limited in a way, where if he were to act in a way that betrays his established
personality, the audience may lose their suspension of disbelief. When we want to right wrongs and fight what
we perceive as evil, we may imagine ourselves rushing headlong into the fray,
but we are rarely capable of that. Lee
takes those insurmountable risks for us, being both a hero and a martyr.
Violence
isn’t always about life and death. In
“Drunken Master,” Jackie Chan often employs his martial arts for the purposes
of mischief and fun. We have spoken
about how Chan’s character embodied the “trickster” archetype. His use of violence was extremely effective
at expressing his personality, portraying his confidence in attempting to get
what he wants, but also revealing his foolhardiness in doing so. Violence can easily facilitate a clear winner
and loser, but the victories and defeats don’t need to necessarily end in
mortal peril. We would not have hated
Thunderleg as much had he not defeated Chan in such a humiliating way, nor
would be as excited in cheering Chan on in his rematch without the anticipation
of seeing the drunken god techniques in action.
There
are people who view violence in media as necessarily having a negative impact
on its viewers. Essentially, their worry
is that when people consume media that contains violence, they are more likely
to be violent themselves, and/or more accepting of violence happening in real life. While it is rational to have such concerns, I
believe that it is irresponsible to condemn works themselves unless you have
sound evidence to the extent that they can negatively affect people. Much of the research done on how violence in
media affects its consumers is faulty, inconclusive, and generally “bad
science.” There tend to be spikes of
concern when widely publicized shootings are in the minds of the general
populace. Many people believe in the
“just-world hypothesis,” which is a cognitive bias in which the person believes
that things happen for a reason and generally, bad people get punished, while
good people are rewarded. The idea of
innocent people dying is understandably difficult for many people to bear. Unfortunately, due to this, people may work
themselves into a fervor, attempting to explain why such things happen. Often, this leads to scapegoating, blaming
various media and activities (ranging from jazz music to video games), and
having both those involved in the production of and fans of said media suffer
the consequences.
Nowadays,
gun violence is generally a more concerning topic than the violence seen in
Kung Fu movies. With access to a gun,
anyone can potentially kill another in an instant. However, guns are an essential part of a
gangster movie. They provide the effect
of establishing that nobody is safe.
With enough training and preparation, in a stretch of the diegesis, one
could believe that a person would not necessarily have to face the threat of
death if they exclusively fight in hand-to-hand combat. However, with the presence of guns, the game
changes. One must accept that death
could potentially happen at any time in the blink of an eye. Whenever the characters have relations with
the syndicate in “A Better Tomorrow,” we feel the threat of danger, even if
there is no explicit threatening involved.
Not only do we need guns to realistically portray the actions of those
involved in crime, but it can be essential to explicitly show the gun violence
of the killings. If we think back to
scene in which Mark (Chow Yun-Fat) assassinates the group of people in the
restaurant, the portrayal of violence is pivotal in showing us who Mark is and
what he is capable of. The juxtaposition
of his confidence and suave ability to woo the woman and the ruthless killing
that follows afterwards is disconcerting.
We come to understand the nature of Mark’s involvement in crime, and we
are forced to assess our sympathy for his character.
The gun
violence in “Fallen Angels” shares both striking similarities and differences
as compared to “A Better Tomorrow.” The gun
violence itself usually revolves around Wong Chi-Ming (Leon Lai / The Killer) dispatching
his targets. If we take a look at Wong’s
first hit, we quickly notice that his killing method matches that of Mark’s
(dual pistols) at the restaurant. While
both characters seem cool and collected, I would call Mark’s violence “warm,”
and Wong’s violence “cold.” Mark kills
for vengeance, showing an underlying passion.
The gun violence is clear and wrathful, showing the action rapidly and
through slow motion. On the other hand,
Wong kills for money, portraying a detachment.
The pyrotechnics used for the gunshots reminded me of a phrase my father
used to describe sparklers, “zimny ogień,”
which means “cold fire” in Polish. The camera angles change rapidly and move
dynamically, with shots changing from choppy to smooth. Blood splatters on the camera itself, lending
itself to the idea that Wong isn’t fazed by the carnage. These portrayals of gun violence enrich the
characters we come to know—it can reinforce Mark’s gray morality and strong
convictions, or show how Wong moves through life in a dreamlike manner, doing
what comes easy to him.
Through
our exploration of these movies, in my opinion, it stands to reason that violence
isn’t just a tool to pander towards the audience’s visceral gratification. There are well-thought out and reasoned
portrayals of violence, just as there are mindless inclusions of it as well. Our glimpse into Hong Kong film provided many
examples of the former. Violence will
likely always be a touchy subject to some, but I hope that people will be
willing to think critically for themselves and make assessments as to what
violence can tell us through creative works, rather than making generalizations
and assumptions, often based on irrationalities.
