web3dom #28 - Hong Kong is small, Hong Kong is big — Watching 'Band Four'

Two weekends ago, using a paid subscription benefit as an excuse, I booked a private screening at Broadway Cinematheque with friends and readers to watch 4 Beats 4 Families. Accompanied by a post-movie sharing session with the director and actors, it was an emotionally charged experience both on and off the screen. I really like this film and hope more people can see this diligently crafted work, which took eight years to prepare. Please allow me to take a “break” for a week, not writing about blockchain or sociology, but about movies and recent developments.

I'm not sure when it started, but in Hong Kong, it's become a trend for directors and actors to thank audiences in person, almost becoming a standard part of every movie. It's hard to imagine any other place in the world where, just by buying a movie ticket, you often get to meet directors and actors, hear their behind-the-scenes stories, and share impressions with other viewers. Imagine being in Los Angeles, watching The Killer of the Flower Moon, and suddenly Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio come out to greet you, thank you for your support, share production details, and take a photo with you? That must be a dream.

You might say it's because of Hong Kong's dense population, but in old Hong Kong, thanking viewers in person was unheard of. To the general public, all directors and actors were unapproachable, and the film-making process was a distant reality. Even approachable figures like Chow Yun Fat and John Woo from Sham Shui Po would not have greeted the audience after the screening of A Better Tomorrow.

From a business perspective, this trend of in-person thanks can simply be attributed to the film industry's downturn, with directors and actors no longer being untouchable and needing to promote their films actively. But even if the initial intention was just for promotion, what I feel is a paradigm shift in the relationship between filmmakers, viewers, and the work. These thanking sessions turn cinemas and even their lobbies into interactive spaces, transforming movie-watching into a semi-theatrical experience. Post-movie discussions have gradually become an integral part of the viewing experience, more dynamic, interactive, and sometimes even more important. I also like foreign films, but even with the best foreign movies, I remain a passive viewer. However, today's Hong Kong films allow the audience to participate in various forms, becoming an extension of the work.

Through Hong Kong films, "we connect." The culture of thanking brings people closer together, making Hong Kong suddenly seem very small.

In recent years, Hong Kong-made films have increasingly become “of the people, for the people”. The post-screening thanking (「謝票」) culture, through private screenings, photo sessions, post-movie talks, sharing, and reviews, has further completed the 'by the people' dimension. ‘Band Four’ exemplifies this perfectly.

I've seen the movie three times in the theater, including a full-house private screening. The director and screenwriter Lai Yan Chi, producer and lead actor Teddy Robin, and cameo and dialogue coach Yeung Bing Kei were there to thank the audience, which seemed natural (but isn’t necessarily so in other contexts). Even in regular screenings, Lai tirelessly connected with different actors, crew members, other directors, and social elites across Hong Kong cinemas to thank the audience, jokingly referring to herself as "Lai Gin Ci" (meaning persistence in Cantonese, pun intended). This, along with in-depth interviews with the directors and other movie peripherals, forms a meta-story outside the 107-minute audio-visual experience, adding a more human and dynamic layer. You might watch ‘Band Four’ on a streaming platform later, but you'll miss out on this complete experience.

Viewing these post-screening thanking sessions as mere promotion, pleasing the remaining audience to encourage word-of-mouth and social media praise for a modest box office return, seems like a thankless job. However, if filmmakers have something to say, exchanging thoughts with the audience, understanding their views on the work, and sharing the creative process makes these post-movie discussions a great privilege. Oppenheimer might be a global hit, earning much more than local Hong Kong productions, but Christopher Nolan probably doesn't have the fortune of Hong Kong directors to connect closely with the audience through their work.

If it weren’t for ‘Band Four’, I might find the above thoughts overly sentimental and unrealistic. But “Lai Persistence”'s passion, coupled with my experience as a creator, confirms that this isn't mere self-consolation lacking scale. As a writer, sharing sessions and book clubs are commonplace for me, especially when my articles are considered difficult or implicit. I deeply appreciate receiving feedback and interacting with the audience. Lai says post-film sharing allows her to "see herself, the work, and the audience", which I resonate deeply with. This couldn’t have been said if one simply wants to please one’s audience. 

Lai mentioned in the ‘dnreadalonereadtgtla’ podcast interview that "Band Four" had a disappointing box office initially, with only two people attending the first thanking session. Even the cinema staff advised against continuing to avoid embarrassment. But Lai believed that fewer attendees warranted more gratitude, as some things can't be measured by cost-effective calculations. I might not have seen or handled grand settings, but I'm well experienced with small ones, having held sharing sessions in Hong Kong and Taiwan. As Lai said in the interview, the initial disappointment quickly turns into realization that the fewer the people, the more heartfelt the sharing should be. This respects those few who chose to attend and the work itself — a sentiment I express, and I guess Lai would agree.

After the private screening event, a friend had dinner with the director, which I regrettably missed. Afterward, this friend, now privy to insider information, asked if I “got” what the movie tried to convey, its metaphors and meanings. I don't adhere to the "death of the author" theory, nor do I believe there's an official interpretation of a film's meaning. I certainly “got” what I perceived, but whether it aligns perfectly with the director's intent is not crucial. Perhaps slightly different interpretations can yield a richer array of understandings.

I read a review (which I thought was poorly written) harshly criticizing ‘Band Four’. One point made was about the end of the film, where the character Cat, played by Kay Tse, gives up on going international, briefly mentioned in a voiceover, which they found overly simplistic. I, on the other hand, see it as a reasonable twist and a brilliant conclusion. The movie had already laid substantial groundwork for Cat's decision to stay. What the critic might not understand is that life's significant choices are often not made in a moment of high drama, but through a deep understanding of life and a natural realization of what one truly wants.

As I just mentioned, my interpretation as an audience member may not mirror the director's original intention, but it is based on my own experiences. The decision to stay or leave Hong Kong isn't a 'limited-time offer' but a constant choice facing every Hongkonger, made not with grand gestures but in alignment with personal values and desired lifestyles. I didn’t even realize when I made the decision to 'stay'; it was merely a series of reflexive responses to life’s conditions.

Perhaps due to my personal experiences, I particularly enjoyed how the ending scenes of Band Four's "Remember Tour" in Hong Kong was shot. A typical Hollywood movie or tourism ad would have showcased Hong Kong's iconic landmarks with rapid cuts to dazzle the viewer. But ‘Band Four chose ordinary scenes like highways, mountain roads, overpasses, tunnels, and roadsides, filmed from a first-person perspective. Yet, these are the true vistas of Hong Kong as I see and feel them, like the views from a bus ride – not stunning, but deeply familiar.

In recent years, due to social movements, the pandemic, and career changes, I've been relearning how to live in Hong Kong, finding my place and rhythm. If I had to describe my state, it would be as a digital nomad, moving with my notebook, working in different places over afternoon tea. While I could work from home, doing so makes me feel disconnected from society. My life is already digital-dominated, but drinking iced lemon tea at a cha chaan teng, buying groceries at a wet market, listening to podcasts on the bus – these are my remaining physical interactions with the world.

Since I can read or listen to podcasts on the bus, I never mind long journeys; I’m more concerned about not walking enough. So, my daily routine involves visiting various small shops while working nomadically – having congee in Sheung Shui, coconut juice in Tai Po, vegetarian food in Sham Shui Po, milk tea and egg tarts in San Po Kong, fishball noodles in North Point, steamed milk in Shau Kei Wan, and condensed milk toast in Chai Kung. I engage in minimal social interactions within my comfort zone as someone with social anxiety, feeling the pulse of Hong Kong in the process. If these journeys are considered far in the 18 districts, then what about those who travel north every week to shop?If visiting a place is just about consumption and checking in, then the whole world seems too small, quickly exhausted. But if one can truly experience the textures, histories, and lives of each place and shop, then Hong Kong is vast, enough for a lifetime.

Watching the scenes in the film and listening to Kay Tse’s 'If I don't remember', I suddenly realized that every day, I'm living my own Remember Tour.

I started the article saying I wouldn't talk about sociology or blockchain, but on a deeper level, sociology is inherently about the relationship between individuals and society. And since the film discusses memory, it inevitably relates to blockchain. After all, a distributed ledger is about collective recording and public, open reading rights. Using distributed publishing technology to record content is precisely to refuse forgetting.

"This place's most loved, every inch is full of memories,

Busy nights, quiet nights, creating thousands of tracks in the heart."

— ‘If I don’t remember’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URY7MJ-4los

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