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                    And Action!</title>
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<h4>And Action!</h4>
<p><em>Publication Date：01/01/2006<br>
				By line：OSCAR CHUNG </em></p>
<p><P><B><I>Producers are competing with directors to reshape Taiwan's movie</I></B> <BR><B><I>industry, and both are getting a little help from the government.</I></B> <BR>&nbsp; 
<P>
<P>The mixture of consumer electronics, finance and film may not be strange to a shopper considering the latest home entertainment system. But when the president of BenQ took to the stage at a press conference in Taipei in September 2004, the audience was probably just focusing on new hardware. The Taiwanese consumer electronics manufacturer, however, was there to announce the investment, with two financial holding companies, Taishin and Chinatrust, of NT$210 million (US$6.3 million) in the movie production house Double Edge Entertainment. 
<P>Double Edge was founded by Bobby Sheng and two partners in Los Angeles in 2002 to produce high quality commercial films and to create digital production facilities spanning the Pacific. "The world is more and more interested in films with Asian or Chinese elements," says Sheng. Double Edge merged with E=MC<SUP>2</SUP> Digital, an American special effects and animation production house in 2004. With the investment of the Taiwanese trio in 2004, the company expanded and now has studios in Taipei and Los Angeles, forming a truly pan-Pacific enterprise. 
<P><B>The Plot Thus Far</B> 
<P>Production houses like Double Edge are attempting to reshape Taiwan's movie industry, which has seen its fortunes reversed in recent decades. In the 1970s, the industry thrived on locally made martial arts and romantic films, which were popular in Taiwan and throughout Southeast Asia. With the rise of the New Wave Cinema movement in the 1980s, the country saw a tide of films characterized by their directors' idiosyncratic visions and a sort of social realism. While these art-house films dazzled critics with their original style and won international recognition, the industry struggled with commercial success. Western movies, moreover, began to squeeze local productions out of the theaters, and the industry had trouble nurturing its talented directors and finding the key to popular success. 
<P>Production houses now hope to utilize the creativity of local directors while reviving box-office sales, and they are getting a boost from government initiatives. Tax incentives announced by the Government Information Office (GIO) in July 2004 are being counted on to attract further investment in Double Edge, which plans to make its first picture, a US$15-million action movie, in the first half of this year. The incentive's guidelines stipulate that businesses producing motion pictures locally--defined as one third of screen time being filmed in Taiwan and one third of the actors being Taiwanese citizens--qualify for income-tax credit. The tax incentives are part of a broader attempt to revive Taiwan's film industry and to fulfill the goal of producing 100 films per year, set by Pasuya Yao, minister of the GIO, soon after he took office last March. 
<P>In 1990 the GIO began to provide subsidies to directors. In the 15 years since its implementation, the policy helped create award-winning films, such as those by Hou Hsiao-hsien and Tsai Ming-liang, and more recently Fire Ball, which won the best animation award at the Asia-Pacific Film Festival, and Small Station, which won the best short film award at Venice Film Festival in 2005. 
<P>Quantity and sales, however, have been the industry's weak points. Taiwan produced no more than 20 films annually between 2000 and 2003, and on average they accounted for merely 1 percent of Taiwan's total box-office take each year. For Jane Yu, movie critic and industry observer, this is partly due to the subsidy policy, although she gives it credit for producing great directors. "Without commercial pressure, directors have room for artistic experimentation and, if talented, they might end up like Tsai and Hou," she says. "On the other hand, the policy is unfavorable for a healthy market-oriented movie industry." 
<P>The success of Taiwan's art-house directors has further encouraged their followers to focus on the expression of individual style. As a consequence, the role of producer, focusing on cost control and box-office success, has diminished. According to director Cheng Wen-tang, a producer-centered industry has yet to mature in Taiwan. "In Hollywood, a producer is authoritative, capable of replacing a director if a conflict arises," he says. "But in Taiwan, the relationship between director and producer is another story." 
<P><B>The Producers</B> 
<P>After years of being in the doldrums, however, Taiwan's movie industry seems to be addressing its problems, as emerging production houses like Three Dots Entertainment try to balance the roles of directors and producers. Established in 2003 by two young women, the company produces nothing but market-oriented movies. "We only work with like-minded directors," says Aileen Li, producer at Three Dots. "We control the budget, and they work within the limits we set." Three Dots has never attempted to apply for GIO subsidies. "We're afraid they'd make us slack," says Li. 
<P>It is not easy to attract the attention of Taiwanese audiences who have long looked away from local productions. But with the release of their first feature, <I>Formula 17</I>, a low-budget gay comedy set in modern Taipei, they did just that. Box-office receipts in 2004 of about NT$8.4 million (US$250,000) in Taiwan were second only to the documentary <I>Life</I>. "We chose the right subject," Li says. "Even though we spent just NT$4 million (US$120,000)." This figure is about a quarter of the money usually put into local movie. 
<P>According to Three Dots' analysis of the local market, gay-themed movies rarely perform badly at the box office in Taiwan. Additionally, there are always international distributors looking for gay movies around the world--in fact, <I>Formula 17</I> has already been released in more than 10 countries, including the United States. But the company knows the importance of constantly offering audiences something new. In 2005, they ventured into a totally different genre, producing a horror film, <I>The Heirloom</I>, which was second in last year's box-office receipts. 
<P>The punchy young producers eventually caught the eye of a corporate sponsor. <I>Catch</I>, Three Dots' third film scheduled for release in February, is an action comedy 100 percent financed by a Taiwanese enterprise. Its production costs were approximately NT$20 million (US$597,000). "The money allowed us to build a circular dolly to mount the camera on," says Li. "We could only afford a linear one for the first movie." 
<P>While better equipment offers better shots, nothing pulls audiences like stars. Taiwan has yet to produce actors in the league of Chinese megastars Zhang Ziyi or Gong Li. Nonetheless, the business-minded Three Dots is trying to create movie stars by repeatedly featuring potential matinee idols like Tony Yang, a handsome young man who appears in the company's first and third movies. 
<P>The producer-centered film industry that is slowly taking shape is also due to the influence of companies like Double Edge. "In the States, directors don't have the final say in film editing, with a few exceptions like Steven Spielberg who is generally recognized as a master of commercial films," says Bobby Sheng. With the same belief, Double Edge takes charge of everything from the selection of actors and scripts to global market analysis. By doing so, they win trust from investors and ensure loans from banks. Each of the company's productions now costs at least US$10 million, a shocking contrast with the average local movie. 
<P>Meanwhile, Cheng Wen-tang notes that directors, himself included, are making concessions to producers. "I'm not as self-righteous as before. I'm listening to the advice of producers," he says, "and I always think about the market value of my work now." The awakening did not come until after his first movie <I>Somewhere Over the Dreamland </I>won the 2002 Venice Film Festival's International Critics' Week award but flopped at the box office. Now teaching script writing at a Taipei university, Cheng is trying to help Taiwanese film by advising future industry professionals. "I tell my students to take commercial value into consideration," he says. "It's okay to express your personal feelings, but after doing that for a while, you should change direction." 
<P><B>The Show Must Go On</B> 
<P>As the director-centered culture is increasingly challenged, the situation seems to be changing for the better. In 2004 Taiwan produced 24 films, and in 2005 the number had already topped 20 by the end of October. In the first seven months of 2005, 210,000 people went to see local movies--up from 138,000 in the same period the year before. In addition to feature films, documentaries have made a surprise impression. In particular <I>Life</I> , about survivors of a devastating earthquake that struck Taiwan in 1999, and <I>Jump! Boys</I>, portraying the grueling training of juvenile gymnasts, brought record numbers of people out to cinemas. 
<P>These positive trends have encouraged the government, which is determined to play a significant role in boosting confidence in Taiwan's film industry. Last August, Premier Frank Hsieh hosted the first inter-ministerial meeting to address problems facing the industry and draw up related policies. He reiterated that the Executive Yuan Development Fund had earmarked NT$20 billion (US$597 million) over the next five years for the cultural and creative industries, including film. Double Edge Entertainment was granted funding for more than 20 percent of its total capital of about NT$500 million (US$15 million). Even though the money is clearly available, the application procedure for subsidies has not always been in tune with box-office realities. Good screenplays were the deciding factor in the past; but these days reviewers also take into consideration the applicant's ability to manage finances and market the film, as well as their past box-office records. The new procedure is designed to encourage those serious about producing commercially successful movies, although some observers like Jane Yu think that government subsidies should be mainly used to support established art-house directors. 
<P>The first Taiwan International Film and TV Exposition held last November was the latest effort by the GIO to revitalize the film industry. The exposition includes the prestigious Golden Horse Awards for film and the Golden Bell Awards for television and broadcasting. Both have been held since the 1960s. The exposition also includes the newer Taipei TV and Film Festival, where buyers can view and purchase Taiwan's television and cinema productions. 
<P>The final part of the exposition, the Taiwan Film and Television Project Promotion, is perhaps the most innovative. It is essentially a government-sponsored film promotion festival, during which projects are presented to fellow professionals and potential investors and symposiums on subjects like venture capital in the entertainment industry are held. The project intends to bring investors into direct contact with moviemakers, and hopes the ideas prompt a flow of investment capital. Designed to enhance the nation's production visibility, the two-week exposition is a huge event. Last year Barrie Osborne, producer of <I>Lord of the Rings</I>, and Bill Kong, producer of <I>Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon</I> , were invited to share their experience. "The effort to promote Taiwan's film and TV industries is a pillar in the national plan to promote creative industries," says Pasuya Yao. "I have high hopes that the exposition clearly states Taiwan's seriousness about these industries to the world." 
<P>Making 100 movies per year will certainly be a challenge for Taiwan, and it may take a few years before the island produces high-budget hits like Lord of the Rings. "Taiwan is not short of capital," says Bobby Sheng. "It's just not put in the film industry." Yet with the new alliance between finance and film underwritten by a heightened role for producers and meaningful government assistance, Taiwanese cinema looks set to be a blockbuster. <BR>&nbsp; <BR>&nbsp; 
<P>
<P><B>Small Station, Long Road</B> <BR>&nbsp; 
<P>Few people understand how it feels to emerge from obscurity overnight better than Lin Chien-ping. At the 2005 Venice Film Festival the 38-year-old director's <I>Small Station</I> won the award for the best short film. Along with Ang Lee whose <I>Brokeback Mountain</I> was selected as the best feature film at the festival, Lin was hailed as the pride of Taiwan. A few weeks earlier, however, he was an unknown director with only two short films under his belt, both made when he was studying abroad. His trip to Venice attracted little media attention. 
<P>The judges at the film festival apparently thought Lin deserved more respect. <I>Small Station</I>, one of the 32 finalists whittled down from over 800 entries, touched their hearts with its simple story of a loving mother who takes her retarded son to a small station just to watch trains pass by. Plot twists and long dialogues are conspicuous by their absence--the film builds feeling visually. 
<P>Lin got into the movie business quite early. After graduating from high school in the east coast town of Hualien, he went to Taipei in the mid-1980s to apprentice in cinematic photography and lighting for seven years. A desire to explore the cinematic world more deeply took him abroad, while most of his friends decided to quit cinema and find alternative careers at a time when the industry began to decline. After saving enough money and studying French for five months, Lin flew to Paris in 1991. Once there, he watched hundreds of old European movies that strengthened his passion for film. Two years later Lin went to the United States and started to study at the School of Visual Arts in New York City. He worked with Pai Yun-ru on student projects, and she later co-scripted <I>Small Station</I> based on the experiences of her own family. 
<P>After Lin returned to Taiwan in 1999, few took his ambition to make movies seriously. "I didn't have the chance to prove myself," he says. "I looked young and inexperienced, and I wasn't good at socializing." Working as a freelance assistant director and cameraman on TV commercials, Lin nursed his dreams through a life of thrift. "I was always ready to skip a meal," he says. 
<P>The turning point came in 2003 when the Government Information Office granted him NT$1 million (US$29,000)--actually NT$850,000 (US$24,700) after taxes--to pay for the filming of <I>Small Station</I>. With the financial support, Lin decided to concentrate all his energy on the production of the 30-minute film and make it in his own way without regard for its commercial value. "I wanted to test my mettle," he says. "I was nearing 40 after all." 
<P>Seeking perfection in every single shot meant the filming was rather time-consuming. "I couldn't compromise, otherwise the production wouldn't be what I really wanted it to be," he says. His insistence on quality paid off when he found himself in the Venetian spotlight. <I>Small Station</I>'s award does not necessarily guarantee a first-class ticket for the future, but he now knows he is on the right track. </P></p>
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