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    Chinese Shows Blur Western Brands Over Xinjiang Cotton Dispute

    Online platforms that stream dance, singing and comedy shows are pixelating performers’ T-shirts and sneakers amid a nationalistic fervor.HONG KONG — Viewers of some of China’s most popular online variety shows were recently greeted by a curious sight: a blur of pixels obscuring the brands on sneakers and T-shirts worn by contestants.As far as viewers could tell, the censored apparel showed no hints of obscenity or indecency. Instead, the problem lay with the foreign brands that made them.Since late March, streaming platforms in China have diligently censored the logos and symbols of brands like Adidas that adorn contestants performing dance, singing and standup-comedy routines. The phenomenon followed a feud between the government and big-name international companies that said they would avoid using cotton produced in the western Chinese region of Xinjiang, where the authorities are accused of mounting a wide-reaching campaign of repression against ethnic minorities, including Uyghurs.While the anger in China against Western brands has been palpable and enduring on social media, the sight of performers turned into rapidly moving blobs of censored shoes and clothing has provided rare, albeit unintentional, comic relief for Chinese viewers amid a heated global dispute. It has also exposed the unexpected political tripwires confronting apolitical entertainment platforms as the government continues to weaponize the Chinese consumer in its political disputes with the West.Most of the brands were not discernible, but some could be identified. Chinese brands did not appear to be blurred. It’s not clear if Chinese government officials explicitly ordered the shows to obscure the brands. But experts said that the video streaming sites apparently felt pressured or obliged to publicly distance themselves from Western brands amid the feud.Ying Zhu, a media professor at the City University of New York and Hong Kong Baptist University, suggested that the censorship was a response to both state and grass-roots patriotism, especially as the opinions of nationalistic viewers become more prominent and loud.Moving cotton from China’s Xinjiang region at a railway freight station in Jiujiang in central Jiangxi Province last month.Chinatopix, via Associated Press“The pressure is both top down and bottom up,” said Professor Zhu. “There is no need for the state to issue a directive for the companies to rally behind. Nationalistic sentiment runs high and mighty, and it drowns all other voices.”The censorship campaign can be traced to a dispute that erupted last month, when the Swedish clothing giant H&M was suddenly scrubbed from Chinese online shopping sites. The move came after the Communist Youth League and state news media resurfaced a statement H&M made months ago expressing concerns about forced labor in Xinjiang.Other Western clothing brands had also said they would avoid using Xinjiang cotton, and one after another, many Chinese celebrities severed ties with them. Since then, the loyalty test seems to have spread to streaming shows.Fang Kecheng, an assistant professor of journalism at the Chinese University of Hong Kong who studies media and politics, said he believed that the platforms most likely censored the brands to pre-empt a backlash from viewers.“If anyone is not happy with those brands appearing in the shows, they could start a social media campaign attacking the producers, which could attract attention from the government and eventually lead to punishment,” he said by email on Thursday.As the blurring spread across apparel brands, it led to some hiccups on shows. The video platform iQiyi announced that it would delay the release of an episode of “Youth With You 3,” a reality show for aspiring pop idols. It did not disclose the reason, but internet users surmised that it had to do with Adidas, which had supplied T-shirts and sneakers for the contestants to wear as a sort of team uniform.Some internet users made mocking predictions about how the upcoming episode would look, photoshopping images to flip the contestants vertically so that their Adidas T-shirts read, “Sabiba” instead.In an episode of “Youth With You 3” released on March 18, contestants’ Adidas T-shirts were on display.iQiyiThen, in a March 28 episode of the same show, the Adidas logo was blurred out on contestants’ T-shirts. But the Adidas stripes were visible elsewhere.iQiyiWhen the episode streamed two days later, pixelated rectangles obscured the T-shirts and sports jackets of dozens of dancers and the distinguishing triple stripes on their Adidas sneakers. Internet users observed mirthfully that none of the shirts had been spared, save for the one contestant who had worn his shirt backward. Many extended condolences to video editors for their lost sleep and labor blurring the T-shirts.Other shows executed similar blurring feats in postproduction. Contestants on another reality show for entertainers, “Sisters Who Make Waves,” practiced cartwheels in sneakers blitzed into indiscernible blurs. So many shoes were erased in the stand-up comedy series, “Roast” that when a group gathered on a podium, the space between the floor and their long hems appeared to melt into a fog.A representative for Tencent Video, which hosts “Roast,” declined to comment on why some brands were censored. The streaming platforms iQiyi and Mango TV, which respectively host “Youth With You 3” and “Sisters Who Make Waves,” did not respond to requests for comment. Adidas did not respond to emailed questions.The onscreen blur or crop is hardly novel in China. The earlobes of male pop stars have been airbrushed to hide earrings deemed too effeminate. A period drama featuring décolletage distinctive to the Tang Dynasty was pulled off the air in 2015, only to be replaced with a version that cropped out much of the costumes and awkwardly zoomed in on the talking heads of the performers. Soccer players have been ordered to cover arm tattoos with long sleeves.The onscreen censorship illustrates the difficult line that the online video platforms, which are regulated by the National Radio and Television Administration, need to tread.“The blurring is likely the platforms’ self-censorship in order to be safe than sorry,” said Haifeng Huang, an associate professor of political science at the University of California at Merced and a scholar of authoritarianism and public opinion in China.“But it nevertheless implies the power of the state and the nationalistic segment of the society, which is also likely the message that the audience gets: These big platforms have to censor themselves even without being explicitly told so.”The blurring episodes also show how the platforms seem to be willing to sacrifice the quality of the viewing experience to avoid political fallout, even when they become the butt of audience jokes.“In a social environment where censorship is commonplace, people are desensitized and even treat it as another form of entertainment,” Professor Huang said.Albee Zhang More

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    How Chinese Dramas Helped Me Build a Relationship With My Sister

    AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyLetter of RecommendationHow Chinese Dramas Helped Me Build a Relationship With My SisterAfter our mom died, I turned to her beloved pastime for comfort. It opened up a new way to communicate with my family.Credit…Illustration by Joey YuMarch 16, 2021, 5:00 a.m. ETWhen I tell people my sister is 14 months older than me, some marvel at how close we must be. Others joke that my parents got busy fast. The joke is true, but my sister and I have never been close. We couldn’t be more different. I’m louder, taller and blunter. She’s quieter, shorter and sweeter. When we were young, I barreled through Michigan forests on my bike while she buried her head in Nancy Drew books. Because my sister was more obedient and a better student than I was, I perceived that she was the favored child. While my sister and I have always gotten along, our relationship bears the tension of that childhood dynamic. For years we weren’t especially friendly and spoke only when necessary. Twelve years ago, our father had a stroke and suffered from aphasia. Around the same time, our mother found out she had pulmonary fibrosis. My relationship with my sister soon worsened. Because I lived closer to my parents, I managed all the day-to-day caretaking; from afar, my sister lobbed suggestions that felt like criticisms. After our mother died in 2015, it was hard to imagine that our relationship could ever improve. When the pandemic descended, I turned to Chinese dramas to ease my anxiety. That felt natural: My mother also loved watching dramas. When I was young, she and her friends would share entire VHS tape sets of shows sent from Taiwan. Before my mother died, she was constantly hunched over her laptop, mesmerized by her favorite shows. Perhaps these dramas were a form of escape, her only connection to her childhood in China and Taiwan. Without my realizing it, Chinese TV — which dates back to 1958 — had become an enormous export over the past decade. One research firm estimated in 2019 that over half the world’s new TV dramas were now coming from China. China is the second-largest market for TV programming after the U.S., and Netflix has been ramping up production of Asian dramas because of booming demand. Apps such as Rakuten Viki and iQiyi have been feeding this bottomless appetite, with the subscription base of Rakuten Viki growing by more than 80 percent since the pandemic began. While Asians are often relegated to bit and stock roles in American television, these shows put Asians at the heart of the action. I started with one of the most popular dramas. “The Story of Yanxi Palace” takes place during the 18th century in Beijing and tells the story of Wei Yingluo, a palace maid who enters the Forbidden City to investigate her older sister’s death. Along the way, she falls in love with Fuheng, a palace guard, becomes a concubine of the emperor and gets entangled in all the deceit and machinations of palace life. Within two weeks I watched 70 episodes.Funny as it might seem, what moved me most was the simple fact of seeing an entire cast speaking Mandarin. I grew up in a mostly white town where survival meant assimilation. Whiteness came to organize my consciousness, as it has for large swaths of the world. After all, American culture and Hollywood have long been the lingua franca of global entertainment. I began to understand why Asian dramas are so popular: While Asians are often relegated to bit and stock roles in American television, these shows put Asians at the heart of the action, participating in the full spectrum of human drama. All the while, as I watched “Yanxi Palace,” I found myself missing my mother more than ever. One day, I decided to text my sister what I might have normally told my mother — that she had to watch this show. At that point, my sister and I only texted once every few months, usually to discuss our father’s caretaking. Maybe she was feeling a sense of loss, too: Surprisingly, she began to watch along with me. Soon we were live-texting as we watched, and I marveled at the ornate costumes, detailed settings and nuanced performances that graced the show. Our appetite grew until we were consuming other dramas, like the hit “Go Ahead,” an exceedingly heartwarming story about three children from unstable households who come together and form a new kind of family. The more dramas we watched, the more involved our conversations became. We wondered what it would be like to grow up in China with Chinese people like us.Over the past year, my sister and I have watched so many Chinese dramas together that I’ve lost count. At the end of a day spent teaching via Zoom, we’ll fire off texts to each other, trying to understand a bizarre plot point: Did that kiss really happen, or was it a dream? Or I might confess that one of my favorite actors is the 21-year-old heartthrob Song Weilong in “Go Ahead.” Recently, to my chagrin, we figured out that his parents are the same age as us. We laughed. It has been a long year of repeated losses for us all, but amid these losses, I’ve gained a sister. I never could have imagined how my mother’s absence would lead me to yearn for my Chinese roots; how Chinese dramas could fill that void; or how dramas would help me build a new relationship with my sister — a chance to make up for lost time. As I search for something new to watch with my sister, it dawns on me: Our mom would have loved watching these shows with us too.Victoria Chang is a writer living in Los Angeles. Her latest book of poems, “Obit” (Copper Canyon Press), was longlisted for the 2020 National Book Award in Poetry.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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    Chloé Zhao, ‘Nomadland’ Director, Encounters a Backlash in China

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }Awards SeasonGolden Globes: What HappenedBest and Worst MomentsWinners ListStream the WinnersRed Carpet ReviewAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyIn China, a Backlash Against the Chinese-Born Director of ‘Nomadland’Days after winning a Golden Globe for the film, Chloé Zhao was pilloried online for past remarks about China.Chloé Zhao, the director of “Nomadland,” at the drive-in premiere of the film last year in Pasadena, Calif., last year.Credit…Amy Sussman/Getty ImagesAmy Qin and March 6, 2021, 9:13 a.m. ETWhen Chloé Zhao won the Golden Globe for best director for her film “Nomadland” last Sunday, becoming the first Asian woman to receive that prize, Chinese state news outlets were jubilant. “The Pride of China!” read one headline, referring to Ms. Zhao, who was born in Beijing.But the mood quickly shifted. Chinese online sleuths dug up a 2013 interview with an American film magazine in which Ms. Zhao criticized her native country, calling it a place “where there are lies everywhere.” And they zeroed in on another, more recent interview with an Australian website in which Ms. Zhao, who received much of her education in the United States and now lives there, was quoted as saying: “The U.S. is now my country, ultimately.”The Australian site later added a note saying that it had misquoted Ms. Zhao, and that she had actually said “not my country.” But the damage was done.Chinese nationalists pounced online. What was her nationality, they wanted to know. Was she Chinese or American? Why should China celebrate her success if she’s American?Even a research center overseen by the government-affiliated Chinese Academy of Social Sciences weighed in. “Don’t be in such a hurry to praise Chloé Zhao,” read a social media post by the academy’s State Cultural Security and Ideology Building Center. “Look at her real attitude toward China.”On Friday, censors barged in. Searches in Chinese for the hashtags “#Nomadland” and “#NomadlandReleaseDate” were suddenly blocked on Weibo, a popular social media platform, and Chinese-language promotional material vanished as well. References to the film’s scheduled April 23 release in China were removed from prominent movie websites.It was not a complete blackout. Numerous stories about the movie were still online as of Saturday. And so far, there have been no reports that the film’s China release was in jeopardy. (China’s National Arthouse Alliance of Cinemas, which will oversee the theatrical release, did not immediately respond to a request for comment, nor did Searchlight Pictures, the Hollywood studio behind “Nomadland.”)But the online censorship was the latest reminder of the power of rising nationalist sentiment in China and the increasingly complex political minefield that companies must navigate there.Ms. Zhao, left, and the actress Frances McDormand, center, on the set of “Nomadland.”Credit…Courtesy Of Searchlight Pictures, via Associated PressFor years, the central government was the only major gatekeeper for films in China, determining which foreign movies got the official stamp of approval and, ultimately, access to the country’s booming box office. Now, more and more, China’s online patriots can also influence the fate of a film or a company.In many cases, winning over — or at least not offending — those patriots, sometimes derogatorily referred to as “little pinks,” has become another crucial consideration for companies seeking to enter the Chinese market.“There is much more space to punch figures like Chloé Zhao,” said Aynne Kokas, the author of “Hollywood Made in China.”The backlash against “Nomadland” was somewhat unexpected. Aside from Ms. Zhao, the film, which stars Frances McDormand in a sensitive portrait of the lives of itinerant Americans, has little if any connection to China. Though it is said to be a strong contender for the Academy Awards, it was not expected to bring in big Chinese audiences, given its limited theatrical release and its slow pacing.Awards Season More

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    ‘Lost Course’ Review: When a Village Fights Back

    AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyCritic’s Pick‘Lost Course’ Review: When a Village Fights BackA 2011 revolt in Wukan, China, is the subject of a sobering, sprawling documentary.A protest in the documentary “Lost Course.”Credit… Icarus FilmMarch 4, 2021, 12:39 p.m. ETLost CourseNYT Critic’s PickDirected by Jill LiDocumentary2h 59mFind TicketsWhen you purchase a ticket for an independently reviewed film through our site, we earn an affiliate commission.“Lost Course” uses a local uprising that made international headlines to pose broader questions about the feasibility of democratic and anticorruption reforms in China. This sobering, sprawling documentary — the first feature from Jill Li, who took the time to follow her subjects over several years — splits its three hours into before-and-after categories.Part 1 deals with the revolt that occurred in Wukan, China, in 2011, in response to what residents said was village leaders’ improper sale of communal land. Anger only grows after a prominent member of the movement, called Bo in the subtitles and Xue Jinbo in news accounts, dies in police custody. But this section ends on an optimistic note: Lin Zuluan, a reformer who has recognized the importance of having village representatives elected through a true democratic process, wins the top position on the village committee, with like-minded activists as deputies.[embedded content]But less than a year later, in Part 2, Lin is subject to uproar himself. Although he says it will take at least three to five years to solve the land issue, he and the other committee members stand accused of corruption or cowardice. (“I don’t recognize myself anymore,” Lin admits at one point.) Other key protesters grow disillusioned, and one flees to the United States. At the end, he protests at a location that makes for a mordant punchline.Broadly adhering to a vérité style, Li builds a case that active civic engagement in China inevitably leads to trouble — or else further corruption. Late in the film, a once-admirable figure is asked about a rumor that he was involved with a contractor who offered bribes. “I cannot and should not refute these accusations,” he replies. Rather, it’s up to others to investigate.Lost CourseNot rated. In Mandarin and English, with subtitles. Running time: 2 hours 59 minutes. Watch through virtual cinemas.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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    A Bored China Propels Box Office Sales to a Record

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }At HomeMake: BirriaExplore: ‘Bridgerton’ StyleParent: With ImprovRead: Joyce Carol OatesAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyA Bored China Propels Box Office Sales to a Record“Detective Chinatown 3” received tepid reviews, but Covid-19 travel restrictions drove many to the movies when they might have been journeying to their hometowns instead.“Detective Chinatown 3” raked in a record-breaking $397 million over three days in China, according to estimates, as millions went to movies there during the Lunar New Year holiday.Credit…Gilles Sabrié for The New York TimesFeb. 16, 2021, 4:18 a.m. ETHundreds of millions of people are stuck in cities around China during this Lunar New Year holiday, as coronavirus restrictions put a halt to a travel season that is usually the world’s largest annual migration. Instead, they are going to the movies — and powering a blowout resurgence at the box office.“Detective Chinatown 3,” the latest installment in a long-running buddy cop series, raked in an estimated $397 million over three days, according to Maoyan, which tracks ticket sales in the country. That set a world record for the largest opening weekend in a single market. The previous record-holder, “Avengers: Endgame,” took in $357 million in its weekend opening in the United States and Canada in 2019.The strong showing was a forceful reminder of the power of the Chinese consumer. While the Chinese economy has come roaring back as the country has largely tamed the coronavirus, shoppers and moviegoers have been slower to open their wallets.Now, people like Sophia Jiang are ready to spend, even on a movie that has received tepid reviews.Over the Lunar New Year holiday, Ms. Jiang, a 40-year-old freelance writer, would typically go with her parents to their hometown in the northern province of Jilin. But the authorities imposed restrictions on visits to ancestral homes this year to stem any coronavirus outbreaks. Photos circulating on Chinese social media showed eerily empty railway cars at a time when travelers are usually packed shoulder to shoulder.Stuck in the southern city of Shenzhen, Ms. Jiang has gone to the movies three times so far during the seven-day holiday, which ends on Wednesday. “Detective Chinatown 3,” she said, was the worst of the bunch.“The story wasn’t that bad,” Ms. Jiang said, “but it wasn’t particularly amazing either, and I fell asleep twice.”The film’s release was held for a year because of the pandemic. Credit…Gilles Sabrié for The New York TimesQuality aside, China’s booming box office returns offered a promising sign for the global film industry, which has seen movie theaters large and small decimated by the pandemic and has been racked with concerns about the future of moviegoing.By Tuesday morning, China’s total box office takings for the new year had reached $1.55 billion, according to local box office trackers. By contrast, total ticket sales last year in the United States, where many theaters are hanging on for survival, totaled $2.2 billion.“Some have argued that, during the pandemic, people have become accustomed to watching online entertainment at home,” Jane Shao, president of Lumière Pavilions, a Chinese movie theater chain, said in a telephone interview. “But I think this is proof that movie theaters are an effective venue for social gatherings.”Ms. Shao, who oversees 40 cinemas across 26 cities in China, said the Lunar New Year box office returns were like “night and day” compared to last year, when the outbreak of the virus in Wuhan prompted the government to close theaters at the start of the holiday. Recovery had been slow, she said, but the recent numbers have been encouraging.“It was a devastating year for our industry, but people have been thrilled to come back to the theaters,” Ms. Shao said.“Detective Chinatown 3” had initially been slated for release during last year’s holiday. China’s theaters for the most part reopened in July, but most have been limited over this month’s holiday to 75 percent seating capacity, and only 50 percent in areas like Beijing, which have recently seen small outbreaks.Theaters have been instructed not to sell concessions, further eating into profits. Movie ticket prices over the holiday were higher than usual, helping to overcome the gap.The film features two bumbling detectives, played by Wang Baoqiang and Liu Haoran, who go to Tokyo to investigate the murder of a powerful businessman. Online, audiences criticized its excessive product placement advertising, scenes of abuse against women and scattered plot threads. But the movie benefited from the strong brand recognition of the “Detective Chinatown” franchise.The Lunar New Year holiday has traditionally been a coveted window for film releases, and moviegoers, like these in Beijing, had a diverse selection from which to choose.Credit…Gilles Sabrié for The New York TimesThe Lunar New Year holiday has traditionally been a coveted window for film releases, and moviegoers had a more diverse selection to choose from than in past years. Coming in second place over the weekend was “Hi, Mom,” a time-travel comedy that grossed $161.9 million, according to Maoyan. “A Writer’s Odyssey,” an adventure film, took third place, with $48.4 million.Rudolph Tang, 41, a classical music critic, said he had seen all three. But he said he felt especially compelled to watch “Detective Chinatown 3” in part because he remembered seeing a poster for the movie on the facade of the historic Grand Cinema in Shanghai at the height of China’s coronavirus outbreak a year ago, when the normally bustling streets had been emptied and cinemas closed.“Seeing the film brought back a lot of memories of the hardship that people have been through,” Mr. Tang said in a telephone interview. “I felt like I was making a statement that the scar has healed in China and that people can return to cinemas now and watch movies.”Last year, box office revenue totaled $3.13 billion in China, making it the world’s largest movie market, ahead of the United States. But it is not clear whether the Chinese film industry’s early momentum this year can propel it beyond its performance of 2019, when it posted $9.2 billion in sales.China’s box office success will depend partly on Hollywood’s pace of recovery. Though domestic productions have been on the rise, China still has a large appetite for Hollywood films, and many theater managers are hoping that titles like “No Time to Die,” the latest Bond film, and Disney’s “Black Widow” stay on schedule for theatrical releases later this year.It is also unclear what role the unique circumstances of this year’s Lunar New Year holiday might have played in the weekend’s impressive box office performance. Air travel was down 72 percent in the first week of the holiday travel period compared to the same time last year, according to Chinese state media. Train travel was down by 68 percent in the first two weeks of the travel season compared to last year.Still, the phenomenon of going to the movies over the Lunar New Year holiday appears to be here to stay.“Celebrating Lunar New Year in China has traditionally meant setting off firecrackers, eating dumplings and watching the Spring Festival Gala,” said Yin Hong, a film professor at Tsinghua University in Beijing. “Now, more and more, going to the movies with family is being incorporated into that tradition.”Though domestic productions have been on the rise, China still has a large appetite for Hollywood films, like Ant-Man.Credit…Gilles Sabrié for The New York TimesCoral Yang and Liu Yi contributed research.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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    A Child of China’s Gilded Elite Strikes a Nerve Over Wealth and Privilege

    AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyA Child of China’s Gilded Elite Strikes a Nerve Over Wealth and PrivilegeThe youngest daughter of the founder of the telecommunications giant Huawei debuted a documentary, a magazine cover and a music video — and the response was savage.Annabel Yao, the daughter of a Chinese billionaire, received widespread criticism after releasing a music video.Credit…via YoutubeSteven Lee Myers and Jan. 19, 2021Updated 2:15 p.m. ETAnnabel Yao is a fresh-faced college graduate with big dreams. She wants to be an entertainer and is putting in the work to make it happen.She is also a member of China’s rarefied elite, the youngest daughter of the billionaire founder and chairman of the telecommunications giant Huawei who proclaimed her debut at a time when China seems to have turned on its many high-flying tycoons.So when Ms. Yao, 23, launched a highly polished publicity blitz last week — including a 17-minute “making of” documentary, a magazine cover and a music video — the response was savage.Ms. Yao’s tone — opining about her social status, her struggles, her up-by-the-bootstrap pluck — seemed to strike a nerve in a country that is still emerging from a public health crisis and an economy that has left millions out of work, even as the country itself broadly recovers.The blitz ignited outrage online about privilege and decorum, and fueled the sort of populist resentment about once-unthinkable wealth that the Communist Party tries to keep in check.She was ridiculed as self-indulgent, insincere and insensitive. At one point in the documentary about her professional journey, she asks why her older half sister seemed more likable to the public.To the masses on the Chinese internet, Ms. Yao seemed oblivious to the fact that her sibling, Meng Wanzhou, is the chief financial officer of their father’s company. She also happens to be under house arrest in Canada awaiting possible extradition to the United States, which many described as a greater hardship than the entertainment business.Meng Wanzhou, the chief financial officer of Huawei, and Ms. Yao’s sister is under house arrest in Canada. Credit…Jennifer Gauthier/Reuters“People work for the capitalists during the day and have to be forced to watch their ugly children at night,” one person wrote on Weibo, the social media site, where Ms. Yao posted her music video. The song, sung in a mix of Chinese and English, is called “Backfire.”There was a time not long ago when China’s newly rich — and their scions, known as fuerdai, or “second generation rich” — flaunted their wealth and status. In the go-go 1990s and 2000s, when the country opened up and let its economy blossom, the rest of society looked on in awe as these princelings posted videos of burning money or posing next to the family Lamborghini.In today’s China, though, the mood seems to be shifting. The pandemic has left the wealthiest even better off, in China as elsewhere, widening an already yawning gap between the haves and have-nots. The list of China’s wealthiest families added $1.5 trillion to their personal wealth over 2020, according to the Hurun Report, which tracks them.China’s increasingly powerful leader, Xi Jinping, has waged a campaign against corruption, jailing businessmen and officials who deviate from the Communist Party’s vision, which he has repeatedly urged everyone to embrace. Not even Jack Ma, China’s most famous and, until recently, richest entrepreneur, has been spared the government’s scorn.Discretion, not ostentation, has now become the norm when it comes to wealth. And judging from the public reaction, Ms. Yao’s media blitz was anything but discreet.China’s billionaire class, including Jack Ma, the co-founder of Alibaba, has come under increased scrutiny. Credit…China Stringer Network, via Reuters“I think she’s a lightweight compared to her sister,” said Hung Huang, a cultural critic and publisher whose mother once worked as Mao Zedong’s translator and English tutor.With the documentary, Ms. Hung added, Ms. Yao wanted to fashion herself as a kind of Chinese Kardashian, embodying beauty and celebrity, entertainment and entrepreneurship as she launched a career that seemed at this point still vaguely designed.Singer? Dancer? Model? The documentary doesn’t really make it clear.“I don’t think she will influence society,” Ms. Hung said in a telephone interview. “I think she’s way more influenced by Chinese society, especially the internet world. She just confirmed what the Chinese public expects out of rich kids in China.”Ms. Yao is the youngest of three children of Ren Zhengfei, the hard-charging leader of Huawei, who has been compared to Steve Jobs for his role in building a company prized in China for its ability to compete with big multinational telecommunications companies like Cisco, Nokia and Ericsson.Ms. Meng and a half brother, Ren Ping, are the children of Mr. Ren’s first marriage. The son is the president of Huawei subsidiaries that own hotels and import food and wine.Huawei has become the focal point of a geopolitical battle between China and the United States as the Trump administration has sought to curtail the country’s technological advances. Ms. Meng, who was for years the public face of the company, was detained in Canada in 2018 on an arrest warrant from the United States, where she faces charges of financial fraud related to evading sanctions against Iran.Ms. Meng’s fate throughout what has turned into a long extradition process has soured views toward the United States. Chinese officials have portrayed her as an innocent victim of a highly politicized case to damage the company.Public sympathy for the Huawei dynasty, however, slipped badly after a company employee was jailed for 251 days; he had sued the company for a bonus and was jailed for disclosing commercial secrets, though the charges were eventually dropped. It was a story that brought to the fore the concerns of a middle class increasingly facing economic hardship for the first time after decades of explosive economic growth.Ms. Yao, the daughter from Mr. Ren’s second marriage, unquestionably grew up in privilege, perhaps more than her older half-siblings. She traveled widely, living in Shanghai, Hong Kong and Britain, according to her own biographical descriptions. Her globe-trotting was such that she recently had to fend off the Chinese news media’s questions about her nationality, saying she was born in Kunming, a city in southern China and carries a Chinese passport.In an interview in 2019, her tycoon father described his admiration for her demanding schedule with studies and ballet lessons — as many as 15 hours a week in middle school. “They have high demands on themselves,” he said of his children.Ms. Yao, who graduated from Harvard seven months ago, studied computer science and danced with the Harvard Ballet Company. In the documentary, she said she “kept trying different things” after feeling lost following graduation before devoting herself to this career path. She has since signed with TH Entertainment, a promotion company based in Beijing.Her media blitz was timed with her 23rd birthday, which was last Thursday, and has already landed her a fashion shoot in the Chinese edition of Harper’s Bazaar, a cover of OK and an appearance in an advertisement for Great Wall Motors. Neither Ms. Yao nor TH Entertainment responded to requests for comment.Ms. Yao seemed to anticipate a backlash because of her background. “I have some questions about the word princess,” she says at one point in the documentary, which includes vignettes of dance and voice lessons, gym workouts and meetings about developing her brand. “People on the internet might call me a princess or something, but will it cause some negative emotions if I call myself a princess?”In the end, they called the documentary, “Exceptional Princess.”In a publicity poster for it, she sits with her arms folded and her lips slightly pursed in a pout. She wears black, thigh-high boots, digging a stiletto heel into an ornate crown at her feet.Claire Fu and Cao Li contributed research.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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    Fou Ts’ong, Famed Chinese Pianist, Dies of Covid-19 at 86

    AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyFou Ts’ong, Pianist Whose Family Letters Inspired a Generation, Dies at 86Driven from China during Mao’s rule, Mr. Fou kept up a correspondence with his father that became a beloved book in the wake of the Cultural Revolution.Fou Ts’ong in 1960. He was one of the first pianists from China to win international renown.Credit…Erich Auerbach/Hulton Archive, via Getty ImagesDec. 31, 2020, 4:59 a.m. ETFou Ts’ong, a Chinese pianist known for his sensitive interpretations of Chopin, Debussy and Mozart, and whose letters from his father, a noted translator and writer, influenced a generation of Chinese readers, died on Monday at a hospital in London, where he had lived for many years. He was 86.The cause was the coronavirus, said Patsy Toh, a pianist, who had been married to Mr. Fou since 1975.In 1955, Mr. Fou became one of the first Chinese pianists to achieve global prominence when he took third place in the International Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw, also winning a special prize for his performance of Chopin’s mazurkas.Almost overnight, he became a national hero at home. To China’s nascent Communist-led government, Mr. Fou’s recognition in a well-known international competition was proof that the country could stand on its own artistically in the West. Chinese reporters flocked to interview Mr. Fou, while many others sought out his father, Fu Lei, a prominent translator of French literature, for advice on child-rearing.But the authorities’ good will did not last long.Two years later, Mao Zedong initiated the Anti-Rightist Campaign, during which hundreds of thousands of Chinese intellectuals, including Mr. Fu, were persecuted. Many were tortured and banished to labor camps. Mr. Fou, then studying at the Warsaw Conservatory in Poland, was made to return to China to undergo “rectification” for several months.Not long after going back to Warsaw, Mr. Fou found himself in a quandary. Having witnessed the increasingly tumultuous political climate back home, he knew that if he returned to China upon graduation — as the government expected him to do — he would be expected to denounce his father, an unimaginable situation.So in December 1958, Mr. Fou fled then-Communist Poland for London, where he claimed political asylum.“About my leaving, I always felt full of regret and anguish,” he later recalled in an interview. So many intellectuals in China had suffered, he said, but he had escaped. “I felt uneasy, as if I owed something to all my friends,” he added.After his defection to London, Mr. Fou maintained a written correspondence with his father in Shanghai — a special privilege that was said to have been personally approved by Zhou Enlai, the Chinese premier.Then, in 1966, Mao unleashed the Cultural Revolution, a decade-long period of chaos that upended Chinese society. Militant Red Guards accused Mr. Fu, a prolific translator of writers like Balzac and Voltaire, of having “capitalistic” artistic taste, among other crimes. They humiliated and tortured the scholar and his wife for days until the couple, like many other Chinese, were driven to suicide. Mr. Fou, still in London, did not learn of his parents’ deaths until several months later.In 1981, after China’s post-Mao government posthumously restored the reputations of Mr. Fou’s parents, a volume of letters written by his father, primarily to Mr. Fou, was published in China. Full of advice, encouragement, life teachings and stern paternal love, the book, “Fu Lei’s Family Letters,” became an instant best seller in China.For many, the long disquisitions on music, art and life offered a welcome contrast to the Cultural Revolution years, which saw sons turn against fathers, students against teachers and neighbors against neighbors — all in the name of politics.“If you imagine the environment we grew up with, it was very rigid,” said Xibai Xu, a political analyst who first read the letters in middle school in Beijing. He added, “So when you read ‘Fu Lei’s Family Letters,’ you realized how a decent human life could be — a life that is very delicate and artistic, with real human emotions and not just ideology.”Besides influencing a generation of Chinese, Mr. Fu’s words resonated long after his death with the person for whom they were originally intended.“My father had a saying that ‘First you must be a person, then an artist, and then a musician, and only then can you be a pianist,’” Mr. Fou once recalled in an interview. “Even now, I believe in this order — that it should be this way and that I am this way.”Mr. Fou performing in New York City in 2006.Credit…Nan Melville for The New York TimesFou Ts’ong was born on March 10, 1934, in Shanghai. His father, in addition to being a translator, was an art critic and a curator. His mother, Zhu Meifu, was a secretary to her husband.Under the strict supervision of their father, Mr. Fou and his brother, Fu Min, were educated in the classical Chinese tradition, and they grew up surrounded by both Western and Chinese cultural influences. As a child, Mr. Fou studied art, philosophy and music, frequently making use of his father’s phonograph and extensive record collection.A lover of classical music from a young age, Mr. Fou began taking piano lessons when he was 7. He later studied under a number of teachers, including Mario Paci, the Italian conductor of the Shanghai Philharmonic.But the chaos of wartime China prevented the young pianist from receiving a systematic musical education. In 1948, Mr. Fou, then in his teens, moved with his family to the southwestern province of Yunnan, where he went through what he described as a rebellious period. It was only after returning to Shanghai several years later that he began to dedicate himself in earnest to the piano.In 1952, Mr. Fou made his first stage appearance, playing Beethoven’s “Emperor” Concerto with the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra. The concert caught the attention of officials in Beijing, who selected the young pianist to compete and tour in Eastern Europe, Mr. Fou’s first trip abroad.Soon, Mr. Fou moved to Poland, where he studied at the Warsaw Conservatory on a scholarship. To prepare for the fifth Chopin Competition in Warsaw in 1955, he practiced so diligently that he hurt his fingers and was nearly cut from the first round of competition.After the deaths of his parents in 1966, Mr. Fou stayed abroad, rising to become a renowned concert pianist on the international circuit. Though he was best known for his interpretations of Chopin, he also received acclaim for his performances of works by Haydn, Mozart, Schubert and Debussy. In a review of a 1987 recital in New York, the critic Bernard Holland wrote in The New York Times of Mr. Fou’s “sensitive ear for color” and “elusive gift of melody.”“We should hear Mr. Fou more often,” Mr. Holland wrote. “He is an artist who uses his considerable pianistic gifts in pursuit of musical goals and not for show.”In 1979, after Mao’s death and the end of the Cultural Revolution, Mr. Fou was granted permission to return to China for the first time in more than two decades, reuniting with his brother to hold a memorial service for their parents.On subsequent visits, Mr. Fou gave performances and lectures; he became known to many Chinese as the “Piano Poet” for his lyrical musical interpretations. Later versions of “Fu Lei’s Family Letters” were updated to include some of Mr. Fou’s letters to his father.Mr. Fou’s death came at a time of resurgent nationalism in China. On Chinese social media, some ultranationalist commentators called him a traitor to the country for having defected decades ago, echoing similar accusations that Mr. Fou faced in the 1950s not long after settling in London.“What would I tell them? There was nothing to say,” Mr. Fou once said of such critics in an interview. “It’s not that I was longing for the West.”“I was choosing freedom,” he added. “It was not an easy situation. There was no other choice.”Many other Chinese honored his memory, including well-known pianists like Li Yundi as well as Lang Lang, who called Mr. Fou “a clear stream in the world of classical music and a beacon of light in our spirit.”Mr. Fou in Chengdu, China, in 2007. The pianist Lang Lang called him “a clear stream in the world of classical music.”Credit…VCG/VCG, via Getty Images“Fou Ts’ong’s legacy was to show people and musicians the importance of integrity, character and music beyond technique,” said Jindong Cai, a conductor and the director of the U.S.-China Music Institute at Bard College Conservatory of Music.Mr. Fou’s first marriage, to Zamira Menuhin, daughter of the prominent violinist Yehudi Menuhin, ended in divorce, as did a brief marriage to Hijong Hyun. In addition to Ms. Toh, Mr. Fou is survived by a son from his first marriage, Lin Xiao; a son from his marriage to Ms. Toh, Lin Yun; and his brother, Mr. Fu.Mr. Fou remained passionately devoted to music in his later years, playing piano for hours every day even as his fingers grew frail. It was a love that he invoked often in interviews, alongside nuggets of wisdom from his father.“When I was very young, I wrote to my father from Poland that I was sad and lonely,” he once recalled. “He wrote back: ‘You could never be lonely. Don’t you think you are living with the greatest souls of the history of mankind all the time?’”“Now that’s how I feel, always,” Mr. Fou said.Amy Chang Chien contributed reporting.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More