Wasted Orient
Just got done watching the DVD of "Wasted Orient," Kevin Fritz's documentary film about the Chinese punk band Joyside. Fritz is a self-described Van Halen-loving "farmboy" from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, who bullshat his way into a scholarship to Beijing University at the dawn of the millennium, met the beer-and-gin-swilling, Johnny Thunders-loving no-hopers of Joyside, and shot this film documenting their first national tour for the equivalent of $2500 US.
It was probably inevitable that in the decade since Hong Kong reverted to Chinese rule, the pox and curse of western rock 'n' roll would invade the middle kingdom's youth. What's immediately striking about these bad-acting boys is how much like their western counterparts they seem, not just in their antics (opening beer bottles with their teeth, belching, farting, puking, etc.), but also in their thoughts and concerns, as when frontman Bian Yuan calls rock 'n' roll "an addiction to chaos," bassist Liu Hao talks about his complex relationship with his retired military parents, or drummer Fan Bo waxes philosophical about how getting drunk allows him to talk to God. It's also notable how innocent their barely competent cacophony -- heavily influenced by the NY Dolls and Dead Boys -- sounds, and how pure the audience's response to it seems. In many ways, it reminds me of scenes I experienced in Austin at the ass-end of the '70s. (It'd be interesting to view this back-to-back with, say, "American Hardcore.")
One wonders what the students who faced down the tanks at Tienanmen Square in '89 would think, seeing this film. (Actually, some of them are probably involved in trying to capitalize on bands like Joyside and their ilk, in this new China where the Communist Party now says it's a virtue to be rich.) It occurred to me while watching this that part of having "freedom" is owning the ability to make bad decisions while finding your way in the world -- scary but necessary, I think. In fact, by the end of the film, the band seems to be reaching for something approximating professionalism, firing their Japanese guitarist Yang Yang (a highly entertaining comic presence on screen) in favor of a more reliable but less interesting player.
Even for non-punk fans, "Wasted Orient" has a lot to offer; besides the interesting milieu and characters, the cinematography is superb, particularly the way montage effects are used to render performance footage more compelling. No socio-political analysis here; none needed. In the words of the subtitlers, "Cow pussy (awesome)!"
It was probably inevitable that in the decade since Hong Kong reverted to Chinese rule, the pox and curse of western rock 'n' roll would invade the middle kingdom's youth. What's immediately striking about these bad-acting boys is how much like their western counterparts they seem, not just in their antics (opening beer bottles with their teeth, belching, farting, puking, etc.), but also in their thoughts and concerns, as when frontman Bian Yuan calls rock 'n' roll "an addiction to chaos," bassist Liu Hao talks about his complex relationship with his retired military parents, or drummer Fan Bo waxes philosophical about how getting drunk allows him to talk to God. It's also notable how innocent their barely competent cacophony -- heavily influenced by the NY Dolls and Dead Boys -- sounds, and how pure the audience's response to it seems. In many ways, it reminds me of scenes I experienced in Austin at the ass-end of the '70s. (It'd be interesting to view this back-to-back with, say, "American Hardcore.")
One wonders what the students who faced down the tanks at Tienanmen Square in '89 would think, seeing this film. (Actually, some of them are probably involved in trying to capitalize on bands like Joyside and their ilk, in this new China where the Communist Party now says it's a virtue to be rich.) It occurred to me while watching this that part of having "freedom" is owning the ability to make bad decisions while finding your way in the world -- scary but necessary, I think. In fact, by the end of the film, the band seems to be reaching for something approximating professionalism, firing their Japanese guitarist Yang Yang (a highly entertaining comic presence on screen) in favor of a more reliable but less interesting player.
Even for non-punk fans, "Wasted Orient" has a lot to offer; besides the interesting milieu and characters, the cinematography is superb, particularly the way montage effects are used to render performance footage more compelling. No socio-political analysis here; none needed. In the words of the subtitlers, "Cow pussy (awesome)!"
posted by stashdauber at 8:45 PM
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