Across two-thirds of the globe, Chow Yun-Fat is literally a
man who needs no introduction. Long before he became a star of
Hollywood films, he was one of the most recognizable faces in Asia.
The career of this classic all-purpose actor began so early and
has lasted so long that he practically grew up on the screen.
Appearing nightly on television in his native Hong Kong, Chow
went from nearly invisible walk-on parts to playing the leading
role in dozens of serials over the course of a fourteen year
contract with TVB, a huge television network which runs its own
actors' training school and produces programming which is broadcast
all over the world.
So familiar is he to his fans that they refer to him as "Brother Fat"
and consider Chow almost as one of the family; like a favorite cousin,
he is greeted on the street with a smile and a wave as he goes about
his daily business. "Because of my 14 years on Hong Kong TV," Chow has
explained, "most of the people treat me as an elder brother from next door.
I go anywhere and they greet me 'Hey, how you doing?' It's more like friends
than fans."
In any discussion of "the greatest Chinese actor in history", as director
Lee Hong Cheung named Chow, the same words are used with surprising frequency:
charisma, charm, humility, humor. Time magazine, in its 1998 cover story on
Chow, called him "gracious to a fault - or, rather, to perfection". This is
not a trait that has gone unrecognized, or unappreciated, by filmmaking
colleagues and fans. In an industry known for egoism, temper tantrums
and just general bad behavior, Chow Yun-Fat is almost unique. In over
twenty years of starring in movies, he has never been known to quarrel
with his director, co-stars or crew. His caring attitude for everyone
involved in the production, his willingness to lend a hand around the set,
and his habits of always being on time and prepared are part of what
characterize him as a performer. "In the large environment of film
ma
king, I feel everyone should make everyone else happy. I really
hope to have harmony. No matter where I am working, I focus on harmony
and accept being pulled from all ends. An actor should try to do his
best to make a movie good."
His reputation as an actor both easy-going and hard working has only
enhanced his status as one of the world's most talented as well.
The winner of numerous Asian acting awards, he is also one of the
few Chinese actors to make a successful crossover into
English-language films in Hollywood. Among the small number of
Asian stars known in the West, he is the only one to be given the
opportunity to show that he can go beyond the traditional bounds
of martial arts or action films. As Newsweek pointed out in its
cover story on his role in the epic Anna and The King,
"he is the first Asian film star to play a complex, romantic
leading man in a serious, big-budget Hollywood movie".
How did it come to be that, of all the stars that have attempted
to make this transition, the first to be completely successful has
been Chow Yun-Fat? There are of course many answers to that, and
Chow himself would undoubtedly be the first one to state luck as a
factor, especially his career maturing at a time which allowed him
to ride the crest of the Hong Kong New Wave in cinema. In his
first serious film, The Story of Woo Viet, he was directed
by the critically acclaimed Ann Hui (who later would also direct
him in another classic film, Love In A Fallen City) and made
his mark as an artist who was equal to the challenge of playing
deep, complex characters.
Though The Story of Woo Viet was both a critical and box-office
success (reaching number two for the year in receipts), good, solid
roles were still difficult to come by for a man still seen primarily
as a television actor. His early films were mainly showcases for his
classic good looks and romantic appeal; as the handsome, steadfast
lover of serial dramas he had a huge following of adoring fans,
especially women, throughout Asia. To break from this mold was not
easy, being hampered by both his image and his very success as a
television star. Chow laughs as he recalls his days of being
called 'box-office poison'. "People get used to you every night on
TV," he said in an interview with E! cable network. "They don't
want to buy a ticket. They didn't want to see Yun-Fat on the big
screen. That's why I was one of the most poisonous actors in the
world."
Until August 2, 1986, that is. While most overnight success stories
really aren't overnight at all, in the case of Chow Yun-Fat his
success
on an international scale can actually be traced to a certain
Saturday
night, when the first midnight showing of A Better Tomorrow,
John Woo's
classic tale of brotherhood as told action-movie style, debuted.
Starring Ti Lung and Leslie Cheung, two very popular actors from
the old and new schools of Hong Kong films respectively, there was
only one name on the lips of the audience at that debut showing of
the film, a name that was cried aloud in the theater and for days
afterward in the streets; Chow Yun-Fat had not only broken out of his mold as box-office poison but had become a superstar literally
in the course of two hours. The film spread through Asia like
wildfire and his no-holds-barred performance as Mark Lee shocked
complacent moviegoers into a new appreciation of what film could
do in general, and what Chow Yun-Fat could do in particular. So
influential was his role as Mark that young men took to the
sweltering autumn streets of Hong Kong wearing long trenchcoats
and Alain Delon sunglasses to
emulate him; sales of both items reached epidemic proportions.
So wide-spread was the influence of this movie that it even
reached the United States, not known for its acceptance of
foreign-language films; even a kid named Quentin Tarantino,
who later went on to make American movies with Hong Kong flair,
was swept up in the fervor and donned a "Brother Mark" trenchcoat
as a tribute to his idol.
1986 was definitely The Year Of Chow Yun-Fat. That year saw the
release of twelve films in which he starred, from slapstick comedies
(100 Ways To Murder Your Wife) to art-house dramas debuting at Cannes
(Dream Lovers) to the classic romance with Maggie Cheung,
YonFan's
The Story of Rose. With three films in the top ten box-office
winners for the year, nominated for Best Supporting Actor in Love
Unto Waste and winning Best Actor for A Better Tomorrow at the
Hong Kong Film Awards (the Hong Kong equivalent to the Academy Awards
in the United States), Chow had definitely left far behind his label
of box-office poison. More and better roles opened up for him, and
he took full advantage of the situation, reaping more awards and
opening up new horizons both for himself and his contemporaries in
such films as An Autumn's Tale, City On Fire and Prison
On Fire.
Though his comedies, romances and melodramas were all popular with
critics and audiences alike, the action film, especially those made
by directors John Woo and Ringo Lam, became Chow's signature pieces.
Known to fans of the genre worldwide, his name became synonymous with
heavy hitting, hard action films which featured strong characters with
ethical dilemmas; always portraying "tragic heroes", as Chow names
them, even the most ruthless of killers became introspective and
philosophical. Once typecast as the romantic lover, now Chow
was known primarily as the soulful killer.
This second round of typecasting would lead to Chow's discontent
with the Hong Kong film industry and his opportunities there.
Though from 1988 to 1995 he would make more than twenty films,
half of which were box-office Top Ten winners and for which he
would pick up an impressive seven award nominations and four
Best Actor awards, the range of roles available to him was
dwindling. As an economic slump burst the golden bubble
that had buoyed the film industry in Asia for over a decade,
film studios were no longer willing to take chances even with
their most bankable box-office stars. Though there were delightful
exceptions, such as the witty and poignant Now You See Love,
Now You Don't (in which Chow performed in the native Hakka dialect)
and the global classic The Killer, the roles made available to
him
were either resurrections of previous successes (A Better Tomorrow
II, A Better Tomorrow III, God of Gamblers Returns) or formulaic
dramas which demanded little of Chow's acting skills, requiring
only that he look good while holding a gun in each hand. Though
he brought panache even to these films, they were no challenge
to a man who had created characters such as Samuel Pang in An
Autumn's Tale or the gentle spoofing of Americans via Chang Ching
in Treasure Hunt. Ironically, it would be as difficult for Chow
to break out of his successful mold as the Gentleman Assassin as
it had been for him to leave behind his image as a television
lady-killer years before.
Though there had been some Hong Kong success stories in Hollywood,
these were usually for directors such as John Woo, who had taken up
residence in the United States, and Ringo Lam. Jackie Chan was
popular as an actor but was performing in the traditional roles
with which Hollywood was comfortable; Jet Li was successful as
well but again in conventional roles. For someone like
Chow Yun-Fat, who hungered to leave the formulaic behind,
there was no choice but to become the trailblazer for others.
When asked about his decision to gamble his career to forge a
path for other Hong Kong artists, Chow emphasized his positive
approach. "I am very fortunate, being the first actor to bite
this bullet," he said in an interview with Next magazine.
"Actually, in any profession, if there is a battle to be fought,
there must be someone to be sacrificed - who is willing to die.
Since it's like that, it might as well be me! If you win the bet,
many others will have a chance."
And battle he did, not only with learning a new and difficult language,
namely English ("the first two weeks I nearly passed out" he jokes),
but dealing with the inevitable business tangles which are the norm
in Hollywood film deals. After completing Peace Hotel, his last
film in Hong Kong before his Hollywood debut, it was two years before
he would step onto the set of The Replacement Killers though negotiations
for his maiden English-language film had long been underway. Unprecedented
for an Asian actor, Chow Yun-Fat's first American film cast him as
the star -
a position of both honor and intense scrutiny.
At first, there was some criticism of the choice of roles in Chow's American
debut. Having expressed a desire to break outside the action genre, The
Replacement Killers was solidly based on that exact model. Shrugging off
the criticism, Chow summed up his pragmatic view on his transition. "An
actor is only merchandise." Knowing that his image as the sensual killer
with a pure heart was most familiar to American studios, he expressed his
willingness to continue in those roles as stepping-stones to his overall
goal. "Give the people confidence, then they will give you a chance," he
explained.
Though The Replacement Killers as a whole met with little critical praise,
Chow Yun-Fat was universally admired in his role as the professional assassin
John Lee. USA Today wrote of him, "Yun-Fat is a tall, handsome man,
whose laconic style and fluid movement may remind filmgoers of a young
Clint Eastwood. His economy of motion and language inspires attention and confidence."
Despite the critical disfavor, The Replacement Killers ranked a solid
65 out of the 298 American films released worldwide that year, grossing
over $40 million. Audiences all over the world turned out to hear Chow
Yun-Fat speak English.
Chow's next film, The Corruptor, with a significantly higher budget and
a more seasoned director, was still of the action variety. With his
improved English skills, Chow was more relaxed in his role of Nick Chen,
an essentially good cop who is doomed by forces outside his control.
Glimpses of the force and intensity of Chow's Hong Kong films began to show
through, and again as before Chow's performance and style was singled out for
praise though the film itself was met with lukewarm enthusiasm by movie
critics in the United States. "One of these days, " Annabelle Villanueva
wrote in Cinescape magazine, "Chow Yun-Fat will star in an American movie
worthy of his versatility and panache."
The long-awaited epic drama Anna and The King, based on the memoirs of the
Victorian era schoolmistress Anna Leonowens, seemed to fit that description
perfectly. Portraying the renowned King Mongkut of Siam, Chow co-starred
with the award-winning actress Jodie Foster as Anna. One of the top fifteen
films released worldwide over the holiday 1999 season, Chow garnered praise
from critics both in America and beyond. "Chow Yun-Fat is an absolute
monarch for our postfeminist time," enthused Richard Schickel in Time.
The import of casting Chow as the leading man in such an epic was not
lost on the film community or on the actor himself. "This is tremendous,"
said Chow in Time. "It's a dramatic film that will show that an Asian
actor can act in an epic." As the visionary King Mongkut, Chow's regal
bearing and charisma proved to be a huge draw for the film and brought
Chow to the forefront of Hollywood's ranks. Indicative of this new
appreciation was his invitation to be a presenter at the 2000 Academy
Award ceremony, only the second Asian actor ever to be so honored.
After only three films in as many years, it seemed as if he had come
full circle, reinventing himself yet again. Bringing the dramatic and
romantic skills of the first phase of his career and merging that with the smoldering
intensity of the second, Chow had matured into an artist who was not only
"the greatest Chinese actor in history" but also one of the luminaries
of global cinema. Where others might rest on their laurels or take
the opportunity to reap the easier rewards of such achievement, Chow,
never one to do the obvious, had another surprise in store.
Moving directly from the arduous shoot of Anna and The King to
his next film, Chow astounded fans and critics alike with his next
project - famed director Ang Lee's interpretation of a Chinese martial
arts novel by Wang Dulu. The film, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,
starred Chow as a swordsman of the highest mettle, skilled in mystical combat.
Grueling training in both the physical aspect of portraying such a hero, as well
as the director's insistence on dialogue spoken in precise Mandarin, a language
with which Chow was only fleetingly acquainted, were
huge challenges for the actor. In an interview for a cover story in the July 10, 2000 edition
of TIME magazine, Chow said, "The first day I had to do twenty-eight takes
just because of the language. That's never happened before in my life. It gave
me a lot of pressure."
Calling upon the strengths of a lifetime of devotion to his art, Chow's performance was
hailed around the world as an integral part of the overall lustre of the film. From standing ovations
at the Cannes Film Festival to an impressive array of international film festival awards,
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon became yet another exotic jewel in Chow's
cinematic crown.
In almost 25 years of adoration and scrutiny, Chow Yun-Fat has been labeled
many things: "The Asian Cary Grant", "the coolest actor in the world"
and even "the huggable ultrahero". Long accustomed to the near hysteria
a simple personal appearance can cause in Asia (during one such appearance
in Shanghai, it was remarked that "the streets were so packed even water
could not pass through"), what is it that Chow expects from Hollywood?
Actually, that question does not seem to be one that has occurred to Chow.
His emphasis is on what he can give, instead of take.
"As a boy," he said in an interview in the Village Voice,
"Hollywood movies meant so much to me, the idea that I can give
something back is like a fantasy coming true."
Unlike other stars of both Hollywood and Hong Kong alike, Chow Yun-Fat
has not burned white-hot for a year or two, only to disappear and be
forgotten. Surviving through stereotyping, box-office failures,
disappointments in his personal life and a transition from one culture
and language to another half a world away, there is more than sheer talent
and ambition which sets Chow Yun-Fat apart. In a world that usually seems
embarrassed to even mention such old-fashioned concepts as bravery,
humility, kindness and charm, they are applied freely to Chow by everyone
from the severest film critic to the most casual fan.
What is about this man that inspires such admiration? Perhaps it is
because, no matter how cynical it seems we have become, we still look
for those exceptional people in our midst, people to whom we can turn
for examples on how to live our own lives, successful people who have
not compromised themselves in order to reach their goals.
While Chow is famous for his acting talent and dashing style, to
be a role model does not require fame, genius or public admiration;
his kindness and respect to others, his willingness to pioneer and
his unwavering dedication to doing what is right is what sets him
truly apart. Combining modern achievement and traditional ideals,
Chow Yun-Fat has the true colors of a hero.
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