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    ‘Found’ Review: Three Adoptees Seek Their China Roots

    This documentary, taking emotional cues from the teenagers at its center, is smart, illuminating and tender.A nanny at an orphanage in China’s Guangdong Province speaks of the infants she cared for over the years. “My heart ached whenever I sent a baby away … What was to become of them?” Amanda Lipitz’s adoption documentary “Found,” rife with poignant moments, provides not one simple answer to that plaintive question but three beautifully complex ones — in the cousins Chloe, Sadie and Lily, who travel to China from Arizona, Tennessee and Oklahoma.When we meet Chloe, she is at her bat mitzvah, her parents beaming. Before that gathering, Chloe (the filmmaker’s niece) had already met Sadie, via 23andMe, a consumer genetics testing company. Through its website, the two located Lily. The teenagers (with ample parental support) embark on a journey to learn the facts of their origins and perhaps locate their birth parents.The documentary finds a sympathetic character in a researcher, Liu Hao, who leverages her genealogical sleuthing skills on behalf of adoptees. She is based in Beijing, and she is upfront, explaining that her work seldom leads to genetic matches. Searching is a tender undertaking — for the teenagers and their parents, who are white, as well as for their potential birth parents. While the young women harbor overlapping questions, “Found” makes it clear they also have yearnings unique to them.In one scene — endearing for its mix of the casual and the deep teenagers are so good at — Liu shares with Sadie news of where she was found before being taken to the orphanage. “That’s so cool,” Sadie replies, then thinks again. “Not cool but awesome.” If by awesome she means staggering and wondrous, then the journey in self-discovery she, Chloe and Lily share in “Found” is awesome indeed.FoundRated PG. In English and Mandarin with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 37 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More

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    ‘All About My Sisters’ Review: Family Matters

    Wang Qiong’s debut feature traces the tragic effects of China’s one-child policy on her family.Often in “All About My Sisters,” the Chinese filmmaker Wang Qiong’s documentary portrait of her family, you might forget that what you’re watching is filtered through a camera. Over a period of seven years, Wang filmed her parents, siblings and relatives from within the emotional thicket of their lives, capturing moments of piercing, private intimacy. Her approach yields a film bristling with the kind of familial rancor that usually only emerges behind closed doors.There’s plenty to warrant this bitterness, starting with the fact that Wang’s younger sister, Zhou Jin, was abandoned as a newborn before being retrieved and then given to an uncle to raise. That was in the 1990s, when the combination of China’s one-child policy and a widespread cultural preference for sons had tragic consequences. As we learn over the course of the film’s epic (yet impressively brisk-moving) three-hour arc, Jin’s is one of the many stories of abandoned babies, sex-selective abortions and female infanticide that haunt Wang’s family history.Wang is neither a staid observer nor a formal interviewer, but an active participant in the scenes she captures, often intervening gently from behind her hand-held camera. “Have you ever thought that induced abortion is horrible to baby girls?” she asks her older sister, Wang Li, whose husband is desperate for a male heir. Li’s response is simple but profound: “The world is horrible to us, too. Every move is a risk.”At times, Wang’s candor can be unsettling: I wondered about the ethics of her unflattering portrayal of Jin, who is seen being cruel to her toddler, as if re-enacting her own traumas. In such moments, “All About My Sisters” teeters discomfitingly between the personal and the political, revealing how little separates the two.All About My SistersNot rated. In Mandarin, with subtitles. Running time: 2 hours 54 minutes. In theaters. More

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    How Hong Kong Censors Films to Protect National Security

    The Asian film capital has cracked down on documentaries and independent productions that it fears could glamorize the pro-democracy movement.HONG KONG — The director of “Far From Home,” a short, intimate film about a family caught in the tumult of the 2019 antigovernment protests in Hong Kong, had hoped to show off her work at a local film festival in June.Then the censors stepped in.They told the director, Mok Kwan-ling, that her film’s title — which in Cantonese could carry a suggestion of cleaning up after a crime — must go. Dialogue expressing sympathy for an arrested protester had to be excised. Scenes of removing items from a room also had to be cut, apparently because they might be construed as concealing evidence.In total, Ms. Mok was ordered to make 14 cuts from the 25-minute film. But she said that doing so would have destroyed the balance she had attempted to forge between the views of protesters and those who opposed them. So she refused, and her film has thus far gone unseen by the public.“It was quite contradictory to a good narrative and a good plot,” she said. “If a person is completely good or completely bad, it’s very boring.”Hong Kong’s world-famous film scene, which nurtured groundbreaking directors like John Woo and Wong Kar-wai, has become the latest form of expression to be censored since Beijing imposed a tough new national security law on the former British colony last year.Mok Kwan-ling, an independent film director, was ordered by the censors to make 14 cuts and to change the name of her film, “Far From Home.”Anthony Kwan for The New York TimesIn March, a local theater pulled the prizewinning protest documentary “Inside the Red Brick Wall,” after a state-run newspaper said it incited hatred of China. At least two Hong Kong directors have decided to not release new films locally. When an earlier film by one of those directors was shown to a private gathering last month, the gathering was raided by the police.Directors say they fear the government will force them to cut their films — and, potentially, put them in prison — if they dismiss demands and show their work.“Under the national security law, Hong Kong is no longer Hong Kong,” said Jevons Au, a director who moved to Canada shortly after the sweeping law was imposed. “Hong Kong is a part of China, and its film industry will finally turn into a part of China’s film industry.”Beyond the national security law, the government plans to toughen its censorship policies to allow it to ban or force cuts to films deemed “contrary to the interests of national security.” Such powers would also be retroactive, meaning the authorities could bar films that were previously approved. People that show such films could face up to three years in prison.“Part of the underlying goal of this law is to intimidate Hong Kong filmmakers, investors, producers, distributors and theaters into internalizing self-censorship,” said Shelly Kraicer, a film researcher specializing in Chinese-language cinema. “There will be a lot of ideas that just aren’t going to become projects and projects that aren’t going to be developed into films.”The new restrictions are unlikely to trouble bigger-budget Hong Kong films, which are increasingly made in collaboration with mainland companies and aimed at the Chinese market. Producers already work to ensure those films comply with mainland censorship. Likewise, distributors and streaming services like Netflix, which is available in Hong Kong but not mainland China, are wary of crossing red lines.“Netflix is a business first,” said Kenny Ng, an expert on film censorship at Hong Kong Baptist University’s Academy of Film. “They show unconventional films, including politically controversial films, but only from a safe distance. I think Netflix has bigger concerns about access to commercial markets, even in mainland China.”Netflix representatives did not reply to requests for comment.Golden Scene, a Hong Kong movie theater, pulled the protest documentary “Inside the Red Brick Wall” after it was attacked by a pro-Beijing newspaper.Anthony Kwan for The New York TimesThe most likely targets of the new rules, which are expected to be approved this fall by Hong Kong’s legislature, are independent documentaries and fictional films that touch on protests and opposition politics.“For those independent filmmakers who really want to do Hong Kong stories in Hong Kong, it will be very challenging,” said Mr. Au, the director who moved to Canada. “They will have a lot of obstacles. It might even be dangerous.”The documentary “Inside the Red Brick Wall” was shot by anonymous filmmakers who followed protesters at Hong Kong Polytechnic University when they were besieged by police for two weeks in 2019. In addition to the film being pulled from the local theater, the Arts Development Council of Hong Kong withdrew a $90,000 grant to Ying E Chi, the independent film collective that released it.The censorship office had initially approved the documentary for audiences over 18, but now some in the film industry believe it could face a retroactive ban.Creators of the fictional film “Ten Years,” which examined the fears of vanishing culture and freedoms that invigorated the resistance to China’s tightening grip on Hong Kong, say it could also be targeted under the new rules. The filmmakers had difficulties finding venues when the movie was released in 2015, but now it might be banned completely, said Mr. Au, who directed one vignette in the five-part film.Kiwi Chow, who also directed part of “Ten Years,” knew that his protest documentary “Revolution of Our Times” had no chance of being approved in Hong Kong. Even its overseas premiere at the Cannes Film Festival in July required special precautions. It was shown on short notice near the end of the festival so Beijing couldn’t pressure the organizers to block it.“I need to do what’s right and not let fear shake my beliefs,” said Kiwi Chow, who directed a documentary on the protests in Hong Kong.Anthony Kwan for The New York TimesMr. Chow sold the film rights to a European distributor and, before he returned to Hong Kong, deleted footage of the film from his own computers out of fear he might be arrested.Some of the subjects of the 152-minute film, including pro-democracy activists such as Benny Tai and Gwyneth Ho, are now in jail. Mr. Chow feared he, too, might be arrested. Friends and family warned him to leave the city, release the film anonymously or change its title. The title is drawn from the slogan “Liberate Hong Kong, Revolution of Our Times,” which the government has described as an illegal call for Hong Kong independence.But Mr. Chow said he ultimately went ahead with the film as he had envisioned it out of a sense of responsibility to the project, its subject and crew.“I need to do what’s right and not let fear shake my beliefs,” he said.While he has yet to face direct retaliation, he said there were signs it could be coming.When he attended a small, private showing of “Beyond the Dream,” a nonpolitical romance that he directed, the police raided the event. Mr. Chow and about 40 people who attended the screening at the office of a pro-democracy district representative were each fined about $645 for violating social distancing rules.“It seems like a warning sign from the regime,” he said. “It’s not very direct. It’s still a question whether the regime has begun its work: Has a case on me been opened?” More

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    Why 'Shang-Chi' Isn't a Hit in China

    Marvel’s first Asian superhero movie has yet to be released in the mainland amid fierce debate over its back story and star.Marvel released “Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings” with China in mind. Simu Liu, the film’s Canadian lead actor, was born in China. Much of its dialogue is in Mandarin. The cast includes Tony Leung, one of the biggest Chinese-speaking movie stars in history.The studio’s first Asian superhero movie is a hit, drawing praise and ticket sales in East Asia and other global markets. Perhaps the only place where the movie has not been well received — in fact, it has not been received there at all — is mainland China.Disney, which owns Marvel, has yet to receive clearance from Beijing’s regulators to show the film in the vast but heavily censored movie market. While the reasons aren’t clear, “Shang-Chi” may be a victim of the low point in U.S.-China relations.China is also pushing back against Western influence, with increasingly vocal nationalists denouncing foreign books and movies and the teaching of English. They have even criticized Mr. Liu for his previous comments about China, which he left in the mid-1990s, when he was a small child.Lack of access to the world’s largest movie market could limit how much money the film makes. But in other parts of Asia, the movie has been greeted warmly by audiences for how it depicts a Chinese superhero burdened by a racist back story.“I was really expecting the movie to be racist,” said David Shin, a Marvel fan in Seoul. “I was surprised at how well they touched upon Asian culture.” Simu Liu in a scene from the movie.Jasin Boland/Disney-Marvel Studios, via Associated PressWorldwide, the movie has earned more than $250 million, all but guaranteeing audiences will be seeing more of Shang-Chi, the title character. Big sales in Asia helped: “Shang-Chi” earned more than $23 million in the Asia Pacific region and debuted at the top of the charts in South Korea, Japan, Taiwan and Singapore. It also set an industry record for a September weekend debut in Hong Kong.The movie is a retelling of the story of a little-known Marvel character created in 1973 — 16 years before Mr. Liu was born — and updated for today’s audiences. It centers on Shang-Chi, a young man working as a valet who is reluctantly drawn into his father’s deadly criminal organization, known as the Ten Rings.The group is named after the magical rings that Shang-Chi’s father, Xu Wenwu, wears on his wrists and that give him destructive power that have helped him destroy and conquer empires.Xu Wenwu is played by Mr. Leung, a legend in Hong Kong cinema. His role in the film was pivotal in attracting Hong Kong audiences to the theaters, said Kevin Ma, a film industry observer and writer from Hong Kong.Tony Leung, a legend in Hong Kong cinema, plays Shang-Chi’s father.Marvel Studios/Disney-Marvel Studios, via Associated Press“It’s hard to imagine anyone who watches Hong Kong films to not know who he is,” Mr. Ma said, adding that Mr. Leung was used as the central figure in advertisements for the film in the Chinese city.To reshape the comic-book character to appeal to Asian and Asian American audiences, Marvel put the movie in the hands of Destin Daniel Cretton, a Japanese American director. In addition to Mr. Liu and Mr. Leung, the cast includes Michelle Yeoh, another major star in Asia, and Awkwafina, the Asian American actor and comedian.The strong showing by “Shang-Chi” comes after a wave of financial and critical success for recent films with Asian casts and production crews, like “Crazy Rich Asians,” “Parasite” and “The Farewell.”But for blockbusters, mainland China is the major market to win. So far this year, its theaters have reaped $5.2 billion in ticket sales, according to Maoyan, which tracks Chinese box office results. Disney has submitted the movie for release there.The director Destin Daniel Cretton, left, and Mr. Liu, far right, on the set. Jasin Boland/Marvel StudiosDespite its absence, the film has generated spirited debate on the Chinese internet. Global Times, a nationalist tabloid controlled by the Communist Party, published commentary that cited the racist origin of the character.Readers of Shang-Chi comic books in the 1970s saw Asian faces colored in unnatural oranges and yellows. They saw the main character shirtless and shoeless, spouting “fortune-cookie platitudes in stilted English,” The New York Times noted recently. And then there was Shang-Chi’s father in the comics: He was named Fu Manchu and caricatured as a power-hungry Asian man, an image that harks back to the stereotypes first pressed upon Asian immigrants a century ago.“How can Chinese people be insulted like this,” the Global Times commentary asked, “while at the same time we let you take our money?”Some critics in China have also pointed to Mr. Liu’s previous comments about China. One nationalist account on Weibo, the popular social media platform, posted several screenshots from a previous interview with Mr. Liu in which he talked about how his parents left “Third World” China where people “were dying of starvation.” (The video is no longer online. A spokeswoman for Disney declined to comment on the remarks.)Mr. Liu has been critical of China before. In 2016, when he was starring in the television show “Kim’s Convenience,” he wrote on Twitter, “I think countries that try to censor and cover up dissenting ideas rather than face them and deal with them are out of touch with reality.” When a Twitter user replied, “sounds like America,” Mr. Liu responded: “I was referring to Chinese gov’t censorship. It’s really immature and out of touch.”Others, including some who said they had seen the movie, leapt to its defense.“There is nothing wrong with the film and half of its dialogue is in Mandarin Chinese,” wrote a Weibo user. “Those who said it insulted China before were too irresponsible.”A marquee for the movie in Los Angeles.Kevin Winter/Getty ImagesStill, the movie has found some resonance with Chinese audiences who have managed to see the film. Jin Yang, 33, a Chinese film producer based in Beijing, praised the film after watching it in a theater in Hong Kong, which despite its own rising censorship operates under different rules.“It’s a bit regretful that the film has not been released in mainland China,” Ms. Yang said. “It’d be great if Chinese audiences could see this film that combines Chinese and Western cultures so well.”Debate about “Shang-Chi” predated the movie’s release, as China’s voluble online audience debated Mr. Liu’s looks, an argument that the actor himself noted with amusement. Some claimed to see a passing resemblance to a young Xi Jinping, China’s top leader, leading to Photoshopped images that others predicted might hurt its chances to pass muster with Chinese film regulators.The trouble in China may have unintentionally helped sales in other markets in Asia, where Beijing’s increasing bellicosity with its neighbors has hurt public perceptions of the country.“I thought that the movie might not be well received in South Korea because of the protagonist being Chinese,” Kim Hanseul, 31, a Marvel fan in Seoul, said. But, he said, the movie’s absence in China “has actually led to more Koreans watching the film.”The movie’s fans said they hoped Chinese audiences would be able to see it eventually.“It’s amusing,” said Ms. Yang, the film producer, “that it’s Americans’ turn to read subtitles in a Marvel film.” More

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    China's Weibo Suspends BTS, Blackpink and EXO Fan Accounts

    Weibo accused one account devoted to a BTS member of illegal fund-raising amid a crackdown on 22 pages.HONG KONG — One month before the 26th birthday of Park Ji-min, a member of the South Korean boy band BTS, his fans in China pooled money to plaster his photographs and a declaration of their “eternal love” on the exterior of an airplane.As pictures of the customized Jeju Air plane circulated widely in China last week, Weibo, a Chinese microblogging platform, took notice. It accused the fan account of “illegal fund-raising,” and on Sunday, it banned the page from posting on the site for 60 days.The First in the world—Customized Exclusive Airplane in cooperation with Jeju AirPeriod: 9.1-11.30Flight Number: HL8087Note: The route may be changed due to some special reasons, please download Flightradar24 to check the flight information. pic.twitter.com/vp6AMpqjgd— PARKJIMINBAR👑 (@JIMINBAR_CHINA) September 1, 2021
    Weibo did not stop there. Hours later, the social media platform said that it would also suspend 21 other K-pop fan accounts for a month, including those that worship other BTS members; the girl group Blackpink; and EXO, a band with Chinese members, after receiving complaints.It was not immediately clear what social media crimes the fan accounts for Blackpink and EXO were deemed to have committed, but the move by Weibo came amid the backdrop of a broader government crackdown on celebrity worship and online fan culture in China.Beijing has recently taken steps to rein in fan clubs amid growing concern that the quest for online attention and celebrity adulation is poisoning the minds of the country’s youth.In its statement, Weibo said that stricter oversight of the fan groups would “purify” the online atmosphere and fulfill the platform’s responsibilities to society. It said that it would remove related blog posts that violated regulations and stressed that it “firmly opposes such irrational celebrity-chasing behavior and will deal with it seriously.”Weibo repeatedly cited a National Radio and Television Administration notice issued on Thursday for the need to manage the “chaos of fan clubs.” In the notice, the government regulator said it would ban broadcasts of “vulgar internet celebrities” and feminine-looking men. It stressed the importance of rectifying the “unlawful and immoral behavior” of celebrities and of upholding an industrywide standard of “loving the party and loving the country” in artistic creations.Representatives for BTS, Blackpink and EXO could not immediately be reached for comment. K-pop fans denounced Weibo’s action, calling it unwarranted and overly harsh.Agnes He, a university student in the southeastern Jiangsu Province of China, said that she believed it could help rein in fan behavior that had gone too far. But she also fretted about whether she could still buy albums at a discounted price through group purchases organized by the fan accounts.“I am quite sensible when chasing stars,” Ms. He said in a phone interview on Monday, adding that she saw pop idols as positive and energizing influences. “It’s a personal freedom. Just because I like Korean pop idols doesn’t mean I’m not patriotic.”K-pop fans around the world are known for their organizational prowess, with many decking out billboards, giant LED screens and public transportation vehicles to show support ahead of an album release or a favorite band member’s birthday. Some have turned to political activism, and others took credit for helping to inflate expectations for a rally in Oklahoma for Donald J. Trump, then the American president, by reserving tickets they had no intentions of using.But the online armies of Korean pop music fans are running up against President Xi Jinping’s sweeping agenda to clean up aspects of the entertainment industry in China. The Cyberspace Administration of China banned the ranking of celebrities by popularity. A regulator also accused an actress, Zheng Shuang, of tax evasion, fined her more than $46 million and ordered broadcasters to stop showing content in which she had appeared.BTS ran afoul of Chinese patriotic sentiment last year, when its leader, Kim Nam-joon, who performs under the stage name RM (formerly Rap Monster), made a seemingly innocuous remark about the shared suffering of Americans and Koreans during a ceremony commemorating the Korean War.Chinese internet users erupted in anger, questioning why he had not also recognized the sacrifices of the Chinese soldiers who had fought on the side of North Korea. To pre-empt a nationalistic backlash, multinational brands scrubbed references of their collaborations with BTS on their Chinese websites and social media accounts.This week, Chinese internet users both celebrated and criticized the suspension of the K-pop fan accounts. Some saw it as a necessary balm against idol worship and excessive spending on celebrities, even going as far as to call BTS an “anti-China group” and Korean pop music a form of “cultural invasion.”Dew Ding, a 24-year-old filmmaker in Beijing, was among those who supported the banning of the BTS singer’s fan account, saying that fans were overly incentivized to spend money in order to maintain an imaginary relationship with their idol.“This crowdfunding is getting more and more crazy, so I don’t think is a good thing,” she said.But Allen Huang, a Taipei-based D.J. who often writes about K-pop, said he did not believe that the ban would be effective in stopping fan accounts. To evade censorship and suspensions, many were rushing to hide their fund-raising campaigns, he said, sometimes by merely removing the word “fan page” from their accounts.“Chinese people will find ways to continue to support, whether that’s through non-Weibo fan clubs, silent fund-raising or just a rebranding of the idea of fan funding,” he said.Li You More

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    Mirror, a Hong Kong Boy Band, Cheers the Gloomy Chinese City

    The popularity of the group, called Mirror, has offered the city a rare burst of unity and pleasure after years of political upheaval.HONG KONG — They swarm public squares, crowd shopping malls and form lines that stretch several city blocks. They lean over barricades that strain to hold them and ignore police officers who try to corral them.The crowds filling Hong Kong in recent weeks aren’t protesters fighting for democracy. They are devotees of the city’s hottest boy band.For more than two years, Hong Kong has badly needed a source of uplift. First there were the mass protests of 2019, then the coronavirus pandemic, then a sweeping national security law. The city has been politically polarized and economically battered.Enter Mirror, a group of 12 singing and dancing young men who seemingly overnight have taken over the city — and, in doing so, infused it with a burst of joy.Their faces are plastered on billboards, buses and subway ads for everything from granola to air-conditioners to probiotic supplements. They have sold out concert halls, accounting for some of the city’s only large-scale events during the pandemic. Hardly a weekend goes by without one of the band’s (many) fan clubs devising a flashy new form of tribute: renting an enormous LED screen to celebrate one member, decking out a cruise ship for another.The whole city has been swept up in the craze — if not participating in the infatuation, then lamenting its ubiquity, as on a 300,000-member Facebook group called “My Wife Married Mirror and Left My Marriage In Ruins.”The group has sold out concert halls, accounting for some of the city’s only large-scale events during the pandemic.VCG, via Getty ImagesAs far as pop idols go, the band is familiar fare. Its lyrics hew to declarations of love and I-can-do-anything affirmations. K-pop’s influence is apparent in its tightly choreographed music videos and highly stylized coifs. Think BTS singing in Cantonese.Little about the group reflects the political upheaval in its hometown. But Mirror, perhaps precisely because it offers an escape with a catchy beat, has provided a musical balm to an anxious city at an uncertain time.“In the past two years, Hong Kong’s social environment has made many people, especially young people, feel very discouraged,” said Lim Wong, a 30-something finance worker as she lined up to take photographs by a fan-sponsored pink truck with the face of Anson Lo, a band member.“They work for their dreams, and that kind of energy really fits Hong Kong at this moment.”Though the group formed in 2018, through a reality show designed to manufacture a hit boy band, its popularity exploded this year. Fans cite a number of reasons: a strong showing at an awards show in January; the release of the group’s first full-length album; the pandemic, which left many Hong Kongers starved for entertainment.Mirror’s ascent has also coincided with a new, more intense stage of the Chinese government’s pressure on the city. For people of all political persuasions, the band has become a sort of ideological canvas.Some have claimed the band’s rousing beats for the battered pro-democracy movement. Gwyneth Ho, a 30-year-old opposition politician who was arrested after running in an informal primary election, has made her love for Mirror a motif in letters from jail. She said the first time she cried after her arrest was upon hearing “Warrior,” an anthem about perseverance.“The worst that could happen is death, and I won’t avoid it,” Ms. Ho quoted from the lyrics.Some also see Mirror as an emblem of Hong Kong identity, at a time when many fear that identity will be erased by Beijing.Cantopop — pop sung in Cantonese, the local Chinese language — was once a major cultural export. Unabashedly commercial but also distinctly local in character, it ranged from sappy power ballads to pulsing dance tunes, folding in covers of Western hits and nods to social issues.But interest flagged over the past two decades as the entertainment industries in South Korea, Taiwan and mainland China boomed. Many Hong Kong stars shifted their attention to the mainland.Now Mirror is driving a resurgence of enthusiasm for Cantopop — and, with it, a broader hometown pride.Gwyneth Ho, a pro-democracy politician, in her office a year ago. She has found comfort from the group’s songs in jail after her arrest earlier this year.Anthony Wallace/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images“It’s because of Anson Lo and Mirror that I’ve become totally newly acquainted with Hong Kong local songs and artists,” said Henry Tong, a banker in his 20s visiting the pink truck. “It’s not just songs — there are also Hong Kong television shows and other productions.”The band has also become entangled in attacks by government supporters. On social media, some mainland users have, without evidence, accused members of supporting Hong Kong independence. A pro-Beijing lawmaker recently suggested that a television drama starring two band members might run afoul of the national security law because it depicted homosexuality. (The group’s representatives did not respond to requests for comment.)Other performers have become political targets. This month, officials arrested Anthony Wong Yiu-ming, a Cantopop star, for singing at a rally for a pro-democracy legislative candidate.Some fans have parsed the band’s statements for signs of political leanings, pointing to an interview one member gave saying he was glad “Warrior” could cheer up Ms. Ho, the politician.But Mirror has avoided explicit declarations. It has partnered with the Hong Kong government to promote the local economy.Even those who invoked politics in explaining Mirror’s popularity emphasized a fierce desire to insulate it from those forces.Fans of Mirror member Keung To at an event in Hong Kong last month. The most striking effect of the band’s takeover of Hong Kong has been its ability to unify a divided city. Anthony Kwan for The New York TimesAnnie Yuen, who leads the fan club that organized the Anson Lo truck — as well as the cruise ship, several billboards and the sale of thousands of “Little Anson” dolls — said Mirror was a rebuttal to those who had cast Hong Kong’s protesting youth as rioters or malcontents.“They were saying that Hong Kong youngsters have no contribution,” Ms. Yuen, who is in her 30s, said. Mirror showed that “Hong Kong young people could bring success.”Still, Ms. Yuen emphasized that was not her main draw to Mirror.“We want to just temporarily forget about the politics,” she said, “and just enjoy what they bring to us.”Enjoy is an understatement. Spend five minutes talking to a Mirror fan, and the takeaway is not about Hong Kong’s social situation. It’s of pure, wholesome delight.Mr. Lo, 26, is the heartthrob — but fans also moon over his work ethic and manners. Ian Chan, 28, is lovingly teased as a bookworm. Another member, Keung To, 22, won over many by discussing his experiences with childhood obesity and bullying.The band has leaned into its hometown hero image, promoting a food drive and cheering on Hong Kong’s Olympic athletes. In interviews, members exude family-friendly goofiness, talking over themselves and ruffling one another’s hair.Fans posing for photographs with cut-outs of Mr. Keung at an event for the anniversary of his fan club in Hong Kong last month.Anthony Kwan for The New York TimesChristy Siu said she was enthralled by their singing, dancing and acting. She was especially proud of their performance at the January awards show, when the band, in sleek suits draped with silver chains, slinked and popped across the stage.Ms. Siu, who is in her 20s, said she spends around $250 each month on products advertised by band members. She recently bought dozens of Mirror-endorsed toothbrushes.In a way, the band is allowing young people to reclaim an innocence, said Anthony Fung, a professor at the Chinese University of Hong Kong who studies pop culture.“Suddenly, they’ve realized that they could put down all these so-called big social things,” he said. “There is something more joyful, playful, that draws them away from the political impasse of their youth.”The most striking effect of Mirror’s takeover of Hong Kong has been its ability to unify a divided city. Many fans said they wanted the band to reach as many listeners as possible, regardless of gender, age or political background.The band seems aware of those hopes. At the end of a sold-out concert series in May, the members lined up onstage to thank their parents and fans. A few offered advice.“This world is really complicated,” Mr. Chan said. “I hope that everyone here can remain simple and pure.”The crowd erupted. More

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    With #MeToo Case Against Kris Wu, China Hits Out at Celebrities

    The detention of Kris Wu, a popular Canadian singer, has been hailed as a rare victory for the movement. But Beijing, wary of social activism, has cast it as a warning to celebrities.China’s ruling Communist Party has seized on the high-profile detention of a Canadian Chinese pop singer in Beijing on suspicion of rape to deliver a stark warning against what it regards as a social ill: celebrity obsession.In less than a month, the pop singer Kris Wu, 30, has gone from being one of China’s biggest stars, with several lucrative endorsements and legions of young female fans, to perhaps the most prominent figure in the country to be detained over #MeToo allegations. The police said over the weekend that Mr. Wu was being investigated after weeks of public accusations of sexual wrongdoing against him, though officials provided few details.Born in China and raised partly in Canada, Mr. Wu rose to fame as a member of the Korean pop band EXO, before striking out on his own as a singer and actor. He built a huge following in China with his manicured good looks and edgy swagger. He amassed endorsement deals with many domestic and international brands, including Bulgari and Louis Vuitton.Mr. Wu has not been formally charged, but his career in China has already taken a big hit. After mounting public pressure, more than a dozen brands cut ties with him. His Weibo social media account, where he had over 51 million followers, was taken down shortly after the news of his detention. His songs have also disappeared from Chinese music platforms.Chinese women’s rights activists have hailed the detention as a rare victory for the country’s fledgling #MeToo movement. But the Communist Party’s official news outlets have largely cast the investigation into Mr. Wu as proof that the party, led by Xi Jinping, one of its most hard-line leaders in decades, defends the interests of ordinary people.Guo Ting, a gender studies scholar at the University of Hong Kong, said, “Xi has tried to reinvent the party as the legitimate party for the people and the party of Chinese socialism for the people.” By going after Mr. Wu, she added, the party is “targeting the so-called rich and powerful, while evading the real kind of gray area of that wealth and power within the party elite.”Mr. Wu on the runway during a Louis Vuitton show in Shanghai last August. Before the allegations, Mr. Wu had several lucrative endorsements.Lintao Zhang/Getty ImagesWhen the accusations against Mr. Wu first emerged weeks ago, the party’s propaganda outlets largely stayed quiet. But after his detention, they put out commentaries and news reports hailing it as a lesson to celebrities.“Wu Yifan has money, he’s handsome and he has the status of being a ‘top star,’” read a commentary in The Global Times, a Communist Party-run newspaper, referring to the singer by his Chinese name. “Perhaps he thought that ‘sleeping with women’ was his advantage, maybe even his privilege.”“But on this precise point he has made a mistake,” the newspaper noted.Some of the rhetoric noted that foreign citizenship did not place celebrities beyond the reach of the law, pointing in part to continuing tensions between China and Canada as well as rising anti-Western sentiment among Chinese.CCTV, China’s state broadcaster, said in a commentary, “No one has a talisman — the halo of celebrity cannot protect you, fans cannot protect you, a foreign passport cannot protect you.”The state news media’s approach reflects the Chinese government’s recent crackdown on the entertainment industry and the culture of celebrity worship that Beijing has accused of leading the country’s youth astray. The authorities have stepped up censorship, cracked down on the widespread practice of tax evasion within the industry and ordered caps on salaries for the country’s biggest movie stars.Concerns about the outsize influence of celebrities on the country’s youth reached a peak in May when fans supporting contestants in a boy band competition spent huge sums of money buying — then apparently dumping — yogurt drinks to vote for their favorite idols. The government promptly issued regulations aimed at cracking down on what they called “chaotic” online fan clubs and their “irrational” behaviors. The authorities on Monday said they had already taken down thousands of “problematic groups” as part of an ongoing effort to address “bad online fan culture.”The authorities “are concerned about the impact on the youth,” said Bai Meijiadai, a lecturer at Liaoning University in northeastern China who studies fan culture. “They want to see the youth studying and working, not spending excessive amounts of money to chase stars.”Mr. Wu, too, had an army of fans eager to open their wallets to bolster his image by buying albums and even making donations to charities in his name. He has also sought to use his influence to pressure his critics into silence, according to his accuser and a producer of a popular showbiz program.The producer, Xiao Wei, said his show, “Xiu Cai Kan Entertainment,” had been compelled to remove a video it had posted online in which its hosts criticized Mr. Wu after the allegations of sexual misconduct had emerged. Mr. Xiao said the short-video platform Douyin had told the program that they had been contacted by Mr. Wu’s lawyers.An Elle magazine cover featuring Mr. Wu, at a newsstand in Beijing on Sunday. The government in China has accused the culture of celebrity worship of leading the country’s youth astray.Ng Han Guan/Associated Press“This is an age of stars, fans and traffic,” Mr. Xiao said in an interview. “Money has become the only criterion to success — this is not right.”.css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-w739ur{margin:0 auto 5px;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-w739ur{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-9s9ecg{margin-bottom:15px;}.css-uf1ume{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-box-pack:justify;-webkit-justify-content:space-between;-ms-flex-pack:justify;justify-content:space-between;}.css-wxi1cx{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-flex-direction:column;-ms-flex-direction:column;flex-direction:column;-webkit-align-self:flex-end;-ms-flex-item-align:end;align-self:flex-end;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}The police investigation into Mr. Wu came weeks after a university student, Du Meizhu, now 18, accused the singer of enticing young women like herself with the promise of career opportunities, then pressuring them into having sex.Ms. Du’s public accusations were met with an outpouring of support, but also criticism from the singer’s fans, prompting debates about victim shaming, consent and abuse of power in the workplace.Some women’s rights activists saw Mr. Wu’s detention as a sign that feminist values had finally permeated the mainstream to the extent that the authorities could no longer afford to look the other way. They said they were hopeful that it would encourage more women to come forward to share their experiences and that it could lead to wider avenues for legal recourse for sexual assault survivors.“This time, progress was made very suddenly, but it was very satisfying,” said Li Tingting, a gender equality activist in Beijing. “Everyone is looking forward to what will happen in the future.”But it remained unclear if the police in Beijing were looking specifically into Ms. Du’s complaints. The authorities last month released initial findings about her allegations that said she had hyped her story to “enhance her online popularity.”Ms. Du did not respond to requests for comment. Emails to Mr. Wu’s studio and his lawyer received no response. Mr. Wu denied the allegations on his personal Weibo account last month, saying he would send himself to jail if they were true.Despite the surprise development, activists know that China’s #MeToo movement is tightly constrained by the government’s strict limits on dissent and activism. Women who have previously come forward with accusations of sexual harassment and assault against prominent men have often become targets of threats and defamation lawsuits. Feminist activist accounts and chat groups on Chinese social media sites are routinely shut down.The swift manner in which the authorities have addressed the complaints against Mr. Wu contrasts with how they responded to #MeToo accusations against Zhu Jun, a prominent television personality at CCTV, the state broadcaster. Mr. Zhu was accused by a former intern, Zhou Xiaoxuan, in 2018, of forcibly kissing and groping her in 2014 while she was working on his program, accusations that he has denied. Ms. Zhou has sued Mr. Zhu for damages, but three years later, her complaint remains unresolved.Zhou Xiaoxuan at her home in Beijing in 2018. Her #MeToo accusations against Zhu Jun, a prominent television personality at CCTV, the state broadcaster, remain unresolved.Iris Zhao/The New York TimesMr. Wu, by comparison, is not part of the party establishment.Professor Guo, of the University of Hong Kong, said, “It is still a state capitalist system and Wu Yifan is not a part of that official establishment,” adding, “His nationality and his status, I think, make it easy for the party to on one hand cut him off, while still maintaining its own legitimacy.” More

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    Asian Composers Reflect on Careers in Western Classical Music

    For all their shared experiences, each of these five artists has a unique story of struggles and triumphs.Asian composers who write in Western classical musical forms, like symphonies and operas, tend to have a few things in common. Many learned European styles from an early age, and finished their studies at conservatories there or in the United States. And many later found themselves relegated to programming ghettos like Lunar New Year concerts. (One recent study found that works by Asian composers make up only about 2 percent of American orchestral performances planned for the coming season.)At times, the music of Asian composers has been misunderstood or exoticized; they have been subjected to simple errors such as, in the case of Huang Ruo, who was born in China, repeated misspellings of his name.For all their shared experiences, each of these artists has a unique story. Here, five of them provide a small sampling of the lessons, struggles and triumphs of composers who were born in Asia and made a career for themselves in Western classical music. These are edited excerpts from interviews with them.Tan DunMusic is my language. To me “West” and “East” are just ways of talking — or like ways of cooking. I’m a chef, and sometimes I find my recipe is like my orchestrations. It would be so boring if you asked me to cook in one style. Eastern and Western, then, have for me become a unique recipe in which one plus one equals one.I am in a very special zone historically. I’m 63, and part of the first generation of Eastern composers after the Cultural Revolution to deal with Western forms. But it’s just like rosemary, butter and vegetables. You can cook this way, that way — and that’s why the same orchestras sound so different, from Debussy to Stravinsky to myself.I’m lucky. When I came to the United States as a student, my teachers and classmates gave me enormous encouragement to discover myself. And I learned so much from John Cage. After this, it felt so easy to compose. And when people approach me for commissions, I re-approach them about what I’m thinking about. I remember when Kurt Masur asked me to write something for the New York Philharmonic — the Water Concerto for Water Percussion and Orchestra — I said, “Can I write something for water?” He said, “As long as you don’t flood our orchestra.”Yes, we often are misunderstood. It’s like when you cook beautiful black bean with chili sauce and chocolate. They may say, “Hey, this is a little strange.” But you explain why, and that can be very interesting. Thank God I love to talk. And there has been progress for us. I am the first Eastern composer to be the dean of a Western conservatory, at Bard. That’s like a Chinese chef becoming the chef of an Italian restaurant. That’s the future: a different way of approaching color, boundary-less, a unity of the soul.Du Yun”If I’m a spokesperson,” Du Yun said, “it’s for my own voice.”Caitlin Ochs for The New York TimesOne thing about composers like Tan Dun: They came out of the Cultural Revolution, after a door had closed for so many years. So there was so much focus on what China was doing, a lot of curiosity — curiosity rather than active racism. Our generation — I’m 44 — is so different.We learn Western music with such rigorous systems. And we do not close our ears to different traditions or styles; that attitude determines early on that you don’t have that kind of boundary, or ownership. But you still hear those conversation topics about “East meets West.” It’s so tiring. East has been meeting West for thousands of years; if we’re always still just meeting, that’s a problem.Programming Chinese composers around Lunar New Year is in general very problematic. Do we need to celebrate the culture? Yes. Do we need to celebrate the tradition? Absolutely. But it can be part of the main subscription series, or a yearlong series. Then you can really tell stories, not just group people by a country.My name does not give me ownership of Chinese culture. There are so many things I don’t know. There are so many burdens and fights — as the woman, the woman of color, the Chinese woman — that I decided to fight nothing and just create my own stuff. I told myself that if I had a great body of work, that would speak to what a Chinese woman can do.I never wanted to be pigeonholed, to be a reduced representation. I wanted to always open that Pandora’s box of messiness — and I encourage others to celebrate messiness, the unclean narrative of your life. Every immigrant has her own path; your work should absolutely be reflective of that. So if I’m a spokesperson, it’s for my own voice. And through that particular voice, I hope there is something that resonates.Bright ShengWhen someone asks Bright Sheng whether he’s a Chinese or American composer, he responds, “100 percent both.”Nora Tam/South China Morning Post, via Getty ImagesWhen I left China, it was a time of economic and, in a different way, cultural reform. I’m glad I came to the United States, but I do have a little bit of guilt. I probably could have done more there. But my agenda was to try to learn Western music and become the best pianist, conductor and composer I could be. I was fortunate to meet Leonard Bernstein, and I was under his wing for five years. Now, at 65, when someone asks me if I consider myself a Chinese or American composer, I say, in the most humble way, “100 percent both.” I’m well-versed in both cultures.There has been racism and misunderstanding, but that is inevitable. Would that be different if there were Asian people running orchestras? Yes, of course. My response has just been to try to write the best music I can. I wrote an opera for San Francisco Opera — “Dream of the Red Chamber,” which they’re reviving. It’s a very popular Chinese story, and when I worked on it with David Henry Hwang, we asked ourselves: “Is this for a Western audience or Eastern audience?” We decided first and foremost it should just be good, and it had to be touching. Good music transcends.For example, a piece of mine, “H’un (Lacerations),” premiered at the 92nd Street Y in New York. It is subtitled “In Memoriam 1966-1976” — about the Cultural Revolution — and it is very harsh and dramatic, with no melody. My mother was there, and she said it brought back a lot of painful memories. I was also sitting next to this very old Jewish woman, and after I took a bow onstage, she leaned over and said, “If you changed the title to ‘Auschwitz,’ this would be just as appropriate.” That was the highest compliment.Unsuk Chin“I believe in multiple identities and think that without curiosity,” Unsuk Chin said, “any style or any musical culture atrophies and risks becoming a museum.”Julie Glassberg for The New York TimesThe Korea of my childhood and adolescence was a very different place from what it is today. In the 1960s, it was an impoverished developing country, devastated by colonialism and by the Korean War, and until the late 1980s, there was a military dictatorship in place. In order to develop as a composer, one had to go abroad, as there didn’t exist an infrastructure for new music. Now 60, and having lived for 35 years in Europe, it remains important for me to contribute to the contemporary music scene in Asia.When I moved to Germany, there was a tendency to put composers in certain boxes, with all the aesthetic turf wars back then. Since I was neither interested in joining any camp or fashionable avant-garde or other trends, fulfilling exotic expectations, or assumptions of how a woman should or should not compose, I had to start a career in other countries while still living in Germany. Prejudices such as viewing an Asian composer or performing musician only through “sociological” lenses are still relatively common in various countries, but times are changing. Of course, there exist prejudices and complacency in the whole world, including in Asia. Perhaps the only remedy to this apparently, and sadly, all-too-human impulse is try to retain a sense of wonder and attempt to find distance to oneself.I have worked in different countries for decades, and have felt a need to stay curious about different musical cultures, traditions and genres. I believe in multiple identities and think that without curiosity, any musical style or culture atrophies and risks becoming a museum: Art has always thrived when there has been cross-fertilization.At the same time, one should be wary of the danger of exoticism and superficial cultural appropriation. I think that a contemporary composer needs to study different cultures, traditions and genres, but make use of those influences in a selective, historically conscious and self-critical manner.Huang RuoHuang Ruo said that if he spoke English with an accent, he composed with one, too.Rathkopf PhotographyWhen people heard I came from China, they would often say, “Does your music sound like Tan Dun?” I don’t think they meant any harm, but it shows a certain ignorance. I tried to explain that China is a big country, and we all speak with our own voice.I started as an instrumental composer, and a lot of those works got programmed at Asian-themed or Lunar New Year concerts. I didn’t notice at first, but you begin to see patterns. I don’t feel my work has any less quality than my other colleagues who are not minority composers, but for conductors, programmers and artistic directors, it doesn’t seem to come to their mind that you can naturally program an Asian composer’s work next to Beethoven or Tchaikovsky.That’s one of the reasons I turned to opera. I thought, there must be no opera company having a themed season devoted to Asian composers. So finally, I got to be programmed next to “Fidelio” and “Madama Butterfly.” That was my revenge. Also, I’ve wanted to write on subjects that reflect Asian or Asian American topics, to really share these stories. In this case it is actually me making the choice.Someone once told me I speak English with an accent. I said, “Otherwise, how would you know that’s me speaking?” I feel the same way as a composer. I want to have my own originality, to speak with my own accent — with my love of Western musical styles, but also this heritage I carry of Chinese culture.Without coming to the United States, I would be a different composer. If I went to Europe instead, I would also be very different. But I feel I made the right decision, and at 44 I fully embrace who I am today, and where I am as well. More