Although only thirty years old and almost entirely self-taught, Chang Da-long (張達隆) already has a solid reputation as a talented cameraman through working in advertising, video, and film. He earned his first award at twenty-six for a music video that he conceived and directed for a local pop singer. The next year, 1991, he won awards for two public service commercials made to raise money for child burn victims.
Chang began working in motion pictures two years ago and has finished two films, Treasure Island and The Daughter-in-Law. The first, directed by Chen Kuo-fu (陳國富), is a dark film about three self-centered people in modern-day, money-oriented Taipei. The Daughter-in-Law, directed by Steve Wang (王獻箎), tells the story of a love triangle in post-World War II Taiwan.
Although he is confident in his abilities, Chang comes across as self-conscious when talking about himself and his work. He insists that he can express himself much better through images than words.
FCR: What qualities go into making a good film?
Chang Da-long: I think life experience is much more important than skills. While skills improve with time, attitude is what matters. It’s always true that you can shoot something nobody else can do and that you cannot copy anyone else’s style 100 percent. Because there is no limit to improving your skills, it’s hard to say which is the best way to take a picture or shoot a film. All aspects of your life will influence your approach to telling a story through film. Changes in your style usually depend on changes in your life. Otherwise, you have to imitate somebody else—but no matter how well you can imitate, there is always a limit. The works are the reflection of the author’s taste and personality, which is impossible to copy, no matter how much you like him and his works.
Some new directors have tried to imitate such famous directors as Hou Hsiao-hsien (侯孝賢) and [Mainland China’s] Zhang Yimou (張藝謀) because their films sell well in the international market. On the surface, it seems pretty easy to learn Hou Hsiao-hsien’s style, but in fact, capturing the connotations of his films is another matter. This is all because of his personal feelings toward people and society. Hou is a kind, childlike, and broad-minded person, and his works show the same qualities. When you see a movie, you can sense the personalities of the people behind the scenes. This is the same for cinematographers. Our attitudes toward people and toward life show in the films. It depends not only on how hard we work, but also on how much we care.
Does your experience with TV commercials and music videos help in working on films?
There are a lot of differences between each kind of communication medium, so nothing is absolute in this field. But past experience does make me realize the limitations of each medium, and it helps me to understand the problems of other people [on the film crew]. For instance, I won’t insist on my opinion as a cameraman, but I will make suggestions according to the director’s requirements.
When I worked for an advertising agency, I learned cutting and directing techniques because they thought my way of thinking was like a director’s rather than a cameraman’s. I’ve learned to respect other people’s viewpoints as a cutter and a director. But I don’t like being a director. What I really want to be is just a cameraman. In my understanding, a director should be someone who is really capable of telling stories. But I’m a person who doesn’t know how to express himself. I became concerned that I was moving farther and farther away from the camera, and that people had forgotten that I was a cameraman, so I quit [the advertising agency].
Maybe because I worked hard, people in the circle seemed to know my work. I took my own [advertising and music video] clients and earned about twenty times what I got at the agency. After about two months, it frightened me because I thought I might get lost in the easy money or in my past honors while my skills weren’t good enough. I’d learned to take pictures by reading newspaper articles and using an old, out-of-date camera that my family had. I didn’t know how long I could last, so I went back to the agency for several months just to learn more. Then I became a freelancer after a quarrel with my boss.
I’m happier now, because I choose the films I like to shoot and the styles I prefer. Also I’m becoming more and more confident in myself because my works are of stable quality and I make fewer and fewer slips. I’ve been in this field for almost nine years. When I’m working, I continually ponder the subject matter I’m shooting and what techniques will work best. I also learn from my own experience.
The difference between commercials, films, and music videos is how much freedom I have. With commercials, I have to meet the requirements of the advertisers, who have some stereotypes about how to present certain products. Your creativity and innovativeness are limited. When I’m working with a film director, I can communicate with him and help him express his ideas. And in making music videos, I can put my creativity into full play. You can do almost whatever you want—and there is always a story in the song.
You won your first award at a young age. How did this early success affect your career?
I felt kind of lost and surprised when I got my first award at twenty-six, maybe because that piece [Cheng Chih-hua’s (鄭智化) The Story of the Youngest Child, which won Golden Melody Awards for best music video and best music video director in 1990] was the first music video I’d directed and shot. It’s not good to succeed so easily, because you lose a certain degree of freedom. You achieve a certain status and have to maintain your image.
After I’d won several awards, I sometimes felt pretty lonely and found I had fewer and fewer friends. Since I also know the families of almost all my friends—who are also my co-workers—there’s pressure on them and on me when comparisons are made. It became meaningless for me to keep making a lot of money or to win more prizes; I even refused to be interviewed at that time.
What difficulties does the filmmaking industry in Taiwan face today? What problems do cinematographers face?
There are a lot of difficulties. For cameramen, the environment doesn’t allow us to stick to filmmaking because we don’t produce enough pictures each year. A lot of cameramen have changed their careers because the job is unstable and the pay is too low. My situation is better. I get higher pay because people recognize me from advertising. But compared to the income and workload involved in doing commercials, I earn about one-fourth the pay in film. You can’t take money into consideration. You have to love filmmaking.
Equipment and technical skills are not as important as we think. The point still lies in the experience of everyone on the film crew, especially the director. For instance, Lee Ang (李安) [Eat Drink Man Woman] and Tsai Ming-liang (蔡明亮) [Vive l’amour] can make good films even though the technical environment may not be that good. On the other hand, Hong Kong movies are famous for their technical expertise, but are weak in content.
I shot Treasure Island because I liked the story. It’s about people in Taipei, a city molded out of gold and complicated politics. All the characters in the film think the world revolves around themselves, yet they discover that they are really only specks of sand in a storm. I took The Daughter-in-Law because I wanted to experience the American style of filmmaking [director Steve Wang studied in the United States], which is different from the local style, although each has its advantages and disadvantages.
What characteristics make a good cinematographer?
It’s not easy because you have to have both knowledge and experience. You have to make the audience feel there is no camera lens at all when they see a movie. And you should know how to get along with people, whether they’re your boss, your co-workers, or your subordinates.
There are two kinds of good cameramen. One is the kind who has excellent skills and artistic taste but can’t get along well with people. The other kind is a true master. The difference lies in how tolerant the person is. His generosity toward others will extend to all his co-workers and will show in his movies. I hope I can be the second type one day.
Since our job takes up most of our time and energy, it becomes very important for us to adapt to the environment and learn from more experienced cinematographers. Experience has taught me that to be good in this field, a cameraman has to be humble; otherwise, you can’t learn anymore or go any further. When people think you’re really good and you have the same view, you’re at the point of decline. Many good cameramen become successful right away, but then disappear right after they’ve succeeded.
Even though I’m confident in my abilities, I still feel empty sometimes. What I fear is that my confidence will become pride, which will make me unable to learn anymore or to ask questions. Even though you’re a cinematographer or even a master, your assistants might understand something better than you do. Because I’m confident, I’m not afraid of other people seeing my weaknesses. My confidence also makes me eager to teach other people. But no matter what I teach someone, the techniques can only be a reference. You have to make them your own.
Some people say the camera should be the eyes of the audience while others say it is the eyes of the director. What do you think?
When I worked as a cutter, I did my best to let the audience see the content of a film without sensing any trace of the cutting. I emphasized the natural tempo of the film so that the audience could really be touched, amused, or frightened by the movie. It’s not enough if the audience compliments just the director, the cutter, or one of the actors, because a film is a collective creation.
We can say the camera is the eyes of the audience, the eyes of the director, and the eyes of the cameraman. When a director is not too subjective, all those eyes can overlap. But when he aims to present his personal viewpoint, he won’t care whether the audience understands or not.
In my view, films are made for the audience; otherwise, you might as well make a documentary for your own use. Why do you make a film? Because you have something to say. Since filmmaking is a way of communication, it has to be concise and understandable. Even when there is no dialogue or facial expression in a movie, you still have to get to the point and make the audience understand what you want to express; otherwise, the film is meaningless. Egoism won’t work.
For myself, I want to do something meaningful. I’d like to do some more public service ads, not just commercials that try to get people to buy this or that. You know, most commercials are just hyperbole. They’re all a packaged image to some degree. I know this is inevitable but it’s still a struggle for me even after so many years, because I always wonder whether advertising should assume some social responsibility. But I’m happy whenever I volunteer to do a public service commercial because that’s what I feel comfortable doing. Why do I shoot motion pictures? Because technically speaking, the quality of Taiwan films is not as good as it should be. I hope someday I can use my professional skills to shoot a movie that we can all be proud of on the international stage. This is the meaning I find in making films.
—interview by Virginia Sheng