Visionary touch

Bill Kong is the stuff of legend. His success is rivaled only by his approach toward film as a business, an art form and an expression of social consciousness.

If Bill Kong is not the most unassuming movie mogul in the world, he is certainly a strong candidate for such a title. He rarely wears a suit and tie, and often carries a backpack like a college student. It is only through the refractions of movie stars' awe-struck looks toward him that discerning outsiders may realize the exalted stature he enjoys in the Chinese-language film industry.

Kong, president of Hong Kong-based Edko Film, was the producer or executive producer of three of the best-selling Chinese movies in the global market, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; Hero; and Fearless. And he has launched the high-octane film careers of several newcomers, including pop superstar Jay Chou and screenwriter Xue Xiaolu.

Not only in appearance is Kong somewhat of a contrarian, but, more importantly, he believes in not following the herd when selecting projects. When everyone was chasing costume epics, he would tell himself that the audience must be tired of this genre. He often goes to the cinema and sits with paying filmgoers, observing their responses to a movie.

"If someone watches one movie a week, what he can tell you about his preference is valuable," he says.

Cold War, 2012's sleeper hit, and Firestorm, which premieres on Dec 12, are both of the cop/crime genre. But the former is a strict drama with no fight sequences, while the new one has such non-stop explosive action it literally blows up Hong Kong's Central District. "I respected Kim-ching Luk and Lok Man Leung, the duo behind Cold War who made the script so tight it was impossible for me to insert action scenes."

Kong worked in the family business importing films into Hong Kong before he decided to get into production.

His big break came when he participated in Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. At that time, the wuxia genre was in hiatus, and Lee was not exactly known for it. Asked why he would bet on Lee, Kong said Lee's movies had won Oscars in the US. "I did not give him a chance. Rather, he gave me a chance."

After that, he produced or executive-produced Zhang Yimou's foray into the wuxia genre. Hero and his subsequent costume dramas - until Kong's widely reported withdrawal from the director's Nanjing Massacre movie Flowers of War. Coincidentally or not, the film failed overseas.

Kong explains that most of his projects were handed to him, rather than he initiating them and scouting for the writer-directors. But he does admit that his international experience, which he accumulated from his decades of importing and distributing foreign movies, has been instrumental in getting some of his works into the global market.

In recent years, Kong's uncanny ability to spot new talent has achieved legendary status. Secret (2007) was Jay Chou's directorial debut whose brilliance surprised many.

"He's a smart kid and learns very fast," Kong says.

Most of the films he produced lately have been by first-time directors.

"But do you know how long these people spent honing their scripts? Xue Xiaolu worked on Ocean Heaven for seven years before it got made."

Kong's gut feelings toward potential hits sometimes encompass work he was not involved in, such as Lost in Thailand, whose success he predicted. But he is not shy about those he missed.

"Comedy is hard because it rarely travels from region to region. I was offered Love Is Not Blind (a runaway hit made on a small budget), but I passed it on because I, as a Hong Konger, could not understand the humor inherent in it."

However, Kong bankrolled Finding Mr. Right, a romantic comedy set in Seattle and serving as a homage to Sleepless in Seattle.

The original idea was to remake the American classic, but he and writer-director Xue realized that this kind of love story would not resonate with the local audience, who are in a different developmental stage psychologically. The end result is a love story totally in touch with the national psyche, incorporating strong elements of a gilded age, even though much of the plot takes place across the Pacific Ocean.

One would imagine that Kong must be flooded with scripts from newcomers seeking a break, but he says, "No, people would not take the time and write the script. They say they're talented but they don't want to prove it by working hard. They don't even want to spend a month and do a first draft."

Unlike talent scouts who insure their investments with long-term contracts, Kong has made it a rule not to bind his new discoveries with any contracts.

"Mine is not a big company and does not have projects for everyone," he says, adding that they are all willing to come back and work with him when the right project turns up.

He seems to have more trust in the Chinese notion of human relationship than in a legally binding document. "Luk and Leung have offered to make a sequel of Cold War for me," he says.

In China's film industry, the usual way of grooming new talent is to cast newcomers in projects with big-name directors. Kong does the opposite: he surrounds a new director with a stellar cast of veterans.

"I did not work the magic," he brushes away his clout, "it's the script that attracts these big stars. Jet Li gave up his usual paycheck of 10 million yuan ($ 1.6 million; 1.2 million euros) to star in Ocean Heaven because the story about an autistic youth dovetails with his idea of charity."

By the way, Ocean Heaven is also the movie Kong is most proud of even though it failed to be profitable.

"Movies need to make money, or we cannot sustain our business. But it's also about art and other things. If you look at the top 10 greatest movies in history, most of them started as money losers."

This is not high talk as Kong owns the MOMA theater, the only art house cinema in Beijing, which regularly screens quality fare with little box-office attraction.

Conventional wisdom says there is a severe shortage of qualified producers in the business, and Kong concurs. What he does not agree with is the source of future producers. They will come from marketing and distribution, he insists.

Currently, the few acknowledged producers tend to be erstwhile directors. Kong likes to rotate his staff in different positions so they have a comprehensive knowledge of the business.

Besides, Kong diverges from industry consensus on the impact of outside funding, derogatively known as "money from coal-mine owners".

"It is good for the industry," he insists. "A lot more projects are possible because we have more of this capital available. I was invited to produce Hollywood films after the success of Crouching Tiger, but there were 25,000 producers in Los Angeles better qualified than I was. All they needed was funding. So, I'll stick with the China market."

About outside money inflating star salaries and churning out shoddy works, Kong is philosophical: "If they lose money doing their first movie, that'll awaken them to the need and value of professional producers."

Kong has made big movies, small movies and moderately budgeted ones that yielded envious returns on investment. Does he see any future in the big-budget costume epic, currently perceived to be dead?

"To tell you the truth, this genre hasn't even started yet."

He won't elaborate, but it's pretty certain that if he launches into this genre again, it'll take on a new look.

raymondzhou@chinadaily.com.cn

(China Daily Africa Weekly 12/13/2013 page28)