HK Film Blossay - Thoughts on Violence

                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.