LARMER: “Crouching Tiger” is the first film you’ve done on mainland China. How difficult was it to come to a completely new place–and attempt a new kind of film? LEE: The whole experience was part homecoming, part adventure. Even though I grew up in Taiwan, I had only been to China once before on a five-day visit. So this was my first real experience there. It was a dream. But when we had difficulties, I would grit my teeth and say, “Oh, what am I trying to prove?” Because you’re coming home, you’re supposed to know what you’re doing. It’s not true: to me, this was riskier than doing English drama, because it’s a genre that I haven’t done before.
Did you come back to China out of some sense of obligation? Yes, there is a feeling that because you’re Chinese, you have to do a Chinese film. But I try to adjust my mentality so that I do this for pleasure, not for obligation. But just as in my movies, there is always a struggle between social obligation and personal free will. It’s a matter of finding your balance.
In “Crouching Tiger,” your lead actors and producers are from all over Greater China. How conscious were you of making a movie that brought together the Chinese diaspora? It’s a great feeling to combine all this talent. In some ways, we’re all looking for that old cultural, historical, abstract China–the big dream of China that probably never existed. I grew up in Taiwan and found out about the old China from my parents, my education and those kung fu movies. The Chinese went through so much–the communist revolution, the Cultural Revolution–and now they, too, think back to that old China. We’re all looking, in some ways, for a more pure China.
With its vast landscapes and fantastical action, “Crouching Tiger” is a far cry from the narrow domestic reality in “The Ice Storm” and “Eat Drink Man Woman.” Were you trying to bust loose? Yes, I have to admit that it was a secret pleasure, filming stuff that exists in my fantasies. I grew up as this docile, domestic person. I would never go out for action or adventures. But now I’m getting a little more power as a filmmaker, so I feel like taking risks.
Did you ever consider doing “Crouching Tiger” in English? No. For me, doing a martial-arts film in English would be like watching John Wayne speaking Chinese in a Western. But there certainly would have been commercial advantages. I probably would’ve had three times the [$15 million] budget. And it would have been released much more broadly, maybe to 2,000 U.S. screens instead of starting in the art-house ghetto. But this is something I have wanted to do since childhood, and I just couldn’t see it in English.
Was shooting in China as you expected? I had heard a lot of stories about making films in China, so I expected difficulty. And it was a delicate situation, with a well-known filmmaker from Taiwan. But I was treated well; I had no problems from Chinese officials. The difficulty comes from the film itself. It was physically and emotionally grueling, five months of shooting, a kind of guerrilla filmmaking.
Have Chinese officials censored the film? I want to show the movie in China. That’s important for me. This has no political implications. I think the mainland Chinese have a great interest in watching the movie. The only change I did make [for the censors] was for political correctness. I have Lo, the Xinjiang warlord, speak with a heavy western [Chinese] accent because he’s a rough character. The Chinese officials didn’t like that; they thought it was denigrating. So I had to dub his voice with pure Mandarin. I don’t see that as an obstacle.
As a Taiwanese director, did you have the feeling this would help bridge the gap with the mainland? Not politically. It had nothing to do with that tension. It’s a bridge because of the fact that it looks at Chinese culture; it’s bringing together all Chinese. The political situation with Taiwan is another issue. I hope people will be able to enjoy the movie regardless of their cultural background.
