Making it in Taiwan's difficult film industry.
Alex Yang knows what risk-taking is all about. In 2003, the 39-year-old film director, while preparing to shoot his second feature film Taipei 21, had an annual income of NT$15,000 (US$436), most of which came from odd jobs and lectures about his work. The reward for such dedication was not encouraging either. When Taipei 21, a story about problematic love between twentysomethings, made its debut in Taiwan this June, ticket sales amounted to no more than NT$800,000 (US$24,242).
In such an anemic environment, few noticed Yang's work until September, when his movie won out over 40 competitors taking with it the best movie award at the 49th Asia Pacific Film Festival in Fukuoka, Japan. It was a great honor for an emerging director. "At least now I have the courage to keep going," he says. Another Taiwanese artist, Lin Mei-shiu, won the best supporting actress award for her performance in Comes the Black Dog .
After winning the award for best screenplay in 1991 at the Golden Horse Film Festival, an event largely intended for local movies, Yang entered the film community shortly after graduating college as a theater major. Directing a full-length feature film had long been Yang's ambition, but raising the funds for such a project proved difficult. Yang, who for the most part was unemployed, finished more than 10 screenplay drafts, but was unable to get the drafts much farther than the bureau drawer. "For about three years every morning I woke up haunted by the prospect of another hopeless day. And I felt so relaxed when I went to bed at night, knowing that such a day had passed," he says.
Yang eventually found out that he was on the standby list of directors qualified to obtain subsidies from the Cabinet-level Government Information Office (GIO). Uncertain about whether he was eligible, he decided to borrow money to make his first feature-length film. By 2002, he had completed his first work, TheTrigger. Yang entered the final contests at the Pusan Film Festival and the Tokyo Film Festival to compete for the best movie and the best Asian film awards respectively.
Fortunately the government gave Yang a subsidy of NT$8 million (US$231,000) for The Trigger, which to a great extent wiped out his debts. But the fact that Yang was unable to make a profit from the ticket sales was unnerving and forced him to consider what kind of future a career in film offered. "I knew I would have to rely on something other than the box office to finance my next work," Yang says.
Yang, now a father of two, was still in financial straits when he started putting Taipei 21 together. And the fact that he failed to qualify for government subsidies for his second film did not help. Eventually he approached Central Motion Picture Corp. and asked the company to provide equipment and personnel. Although the company lent a hand, Yang still had to raise funds for the project. "Government subsidies ensure the survival of most of Taiwan's [new] directors. If you can't get one, you may never start to work. If you insist on shooting a film without it, you'd better be prepared to lose money," Yang says. Today, he still owes around NT$600,000 (US$18,000) to his creditors.
Director Alex Yang's situation to a great extent reflects the discouraging environment local filmmakers have faced over the past decade. According to the GIO's Department of Motion Pictures, in 2003 Taiwan only produced 18 movies, and their total revenue in Taipei came to NT$6 million (US$174,000), roughly half of Taiwan's total. What's more, the movies accounted for just 0.3 percent of the island's box-office total. Films from China and Hong Kong had a better showing with 6.2 percent of the take, while the rest went to other foreign works, primarily Hollywood productions.
As Taiwan's film industry flounders, people are leaving in droves. "They choose to work for TV stations, enter the advertising business, or even drive a taxi," Yang says. Even marketing departments are feeling the pinch. "I did the lion's share of promoting Taipei 21. Without my prodding, the distributor of the film wouldn't have established a Web site for it," he says.
In contrast, South Korea's film industry--a success story often envied by its counterpart in Taiwan--boasts of a heavy local following, so much so that local movies accounted for 68 percent of the total box office in the first half of this year. "The normal figure should be around 20 percent, and it's pathetic to be below 10," says Yang.
Taiwan's movie industry, however, has seen better days. In the 1980s, Taiwan saw the start of New Cinema, a movement led by directors like Hou Hsiao-hsien and Edward Yang. Their work attracted audiences with the directors' unique style and an emphasis on Taiwanese content. When Hou's A City of Sadness won the best movie award at the 1989 Venice Film Festival--the first major international prize awarded to a Taiwanese director--new filmmakers heralded a local film renaissance, which sustained the public's interest well into the 1990s.
As the New Cinema developed in Taiwan and won international acclaim, more directors set their sights on creating art-house films, thus ignoring commercially viable work. "Everybody wanted to follow in the footsteps of Hou and Yang. But it's possible that the imitations are good in form but inadequate in content," Alex Yang says. Gradually Taiwanese investors began shifting their attention to more market-oriented works outside the island, such as those in Hong Kong. The situation was further complicated when, as a result of Taiwan's entry into the WTO, quotas were lifted on American films, leading to the dominance of Hollywood productions on the island.
To boost the local film industry, the government has offered a number of incentives, the major one being financial aid. Since 1990, the government has provided subsidies to prospective directors, taking up slack where private production companies had failed to deliver. The policy has helped keep the industry afloat by financing 120 feature films and one animated motion picture since its inception. These subsidies range from NT$1 million (US$30,303) to NT$15 million (US$454,545). In 2002 alone, as many as 15 out of 21 movies qualified for government subsidies. In addition, the GIO has been subsidizing the production of documentaries and short films since 1998, creating entry-level opportunities for new filmmakers.
Many, however, say the money does little to foster a recovery. Critics point out that government subsidies often embolden recipients, who when faced with financial stability, steer away from commercially viable films in favor of a more eclectic approach. "But at least these subsidies guarantee the survival of the art film industry and ensure that Taiwan's movies shine at international festivals," Peggy Chou, head of GIO's Department of Motion Pictures, says. "Which one of the now famous directors from Taiwan has not relied on government subsidies to finance his or her work?"
Meanwhile, the government has changed the guidelines for earning funding. In the past, the judges spent most of their time evaluating screenplays when deciding who would be awarded a subsidy. In 2002, the GIO opted to review the entire movie-making process instead, including production, acting, and distribution. "By changing the way the government awards subsidies, I think the industry will rebound, and Taiwan's moviegoers will rekindle their interest in local films," says Chou.
To create a sustainable environment for the movie industry, government subsidies go to post-production houses as well. According to Chou, Taiwan has the potential to become a regional post-production hub. Last year Du Tuu-chih, a well-known sound engineer often sought out by the nation's top directors, founded a studio that pushed Taiwan further toward this goal. Subsidized by the GIO, Du plans to install the most advanced post-production facilities in his studio this year. According to Chou, Du has already attracted a number of international clients.
Recruiting new talent is another priority, which, if successful, will provide Taiwan's movie industry with a much-needed shot in the arm. Some film organizers and the government alike focus on short films and documentaries, genres in which Taiwan excels and future feature-length movie directors may create their early works. Since 1998 the Taiwan International Documentary Festival, a December event that encourages artists by establishing a section where 20 local documentary works compete for the Taiwan Award, has been held biennially. The Purely 16 Film Festival, an annual event that has been held since 1999, is a platform for short film artists to exhibit their works. In 2003 Taiwan saw the creation of the Tailly High Film Festival, which in 2004 invited 118 local artists to submit audio-visual creations of all genres and lengths, including animated works, for film exhibitions held in Taipei, Kaohsiung, and Hsinchu, in the hope that the festival would attract Taiwan's hidden stars.
At the same time, those who are active in the film community continue to call for further improvements. Last year, a group started by emerging director Zero Chou, with a membership of more than 70 film industry regulars, made a six-point declaration to goad the government to make more of an effort to boost local cinema. The declaration's first point demanded that the government pass laws to protect local movies against cultural hegemony; it is, however, a demand that is unlikely to be met as it would require that Taiwan break its commitments to the WTO.
Despite these problems, government subsidies and artists like Alex Yang may yet reverse the fortunes of Taiwan's film industry. There are some encouraging signs. In the first nine months of 2004, the local box-office totals of Taiwanese movies were already three times that of 2003. And although it accounts for just 0.98 percent of the total ticket sales during that period, Peggy Chou believes the Taiwanese film industry is bouncing back.
A full recovery might be years away. But, as Yang says, Taiwan has always had the potential to produce excellent work, since it is capable of stimulating people's creativity in cinema. "If some day those who left the industry to work for TV find they can make as much money by making movies, they'll come back, because it's more fun here," says Yang.