Seven Swords.

Seven Swords.

The films we watched this week and last week, Seven Swords and Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter and … Spring), both come out of East Asia. Particularly in regards to Seven Swords, there was a lot of discussion of the “knock-off”. To what extent can we assess and consider the authenticity of the tropes and symbols which these two films both employ? Hyangjin Lee describes Tsui Hark’s films as “nationalism on speed”, while Kim Ki-Duk has been criticised for exploiting Asian stereotypes in his work. Is this reducing Asianness to categories that are defined by a “Western” framework, and how problematic is it?

What, exactly, does it mean for an Asian film to be popular in “the West” but not in its home country? Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon achieved far more success on foreign shores, and this may be in part because it was an Asian film made more for Western eyes than for its home base. For example, the actors in the film came from both China and Hong Kong, so the film was at times plagued with bad accents: something that will inevitably be distracting to those fluent in Mandarin, but not at all for foreign audiences.

So, how problematic are such things? Kim Ki-Duk, of course, is also an example of someone extremely popular with foreign audiences, but does not do so well at home. The idea of fetishising the ‘exotic’ is always problematic, but how far should films work to preserve realism? What if a realistic portrayal of a culture will lead to disinterest in it entirely? Is this a problem?

Before I mire myself in endless questions I’ll then fail to answer, I think it would be interesting to use the framework of hermeneutics to discuss this problem. Hans-Georg Gadamer was pet student of philosopher Martin Heidegger, and has been called ‘the decisive figure in the development of twentieth century hermeneutics’ (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy). The crux of his theory of understanding is that understanding is historically situated.

 

 

Gadamer on ‘horizons’ and meaning: ‘The real meaning of a text … is … always codetermined by the historical situation of the interpreter. The meaning of a text goes beyond its author not occasionally but always.’ (Gadamer, Truth and Method)

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For Gadamer, all understanding is situated, and hence, limited. The limited vision we possess is what he calls our ‘horizon’. The interpretation of any text, then, will perhaps be the fusion of different horizons — the viewer’s and the film maker’s. Looked at in this way, when we watch a film from a different culture, we will inevitably superimpose our own values, from our own cultural histories and experiences, on the film’s. Each experience of a film would then be a re-creation of meaning.

What does this view yield? I suppose we can consider that different views and cultural understandings need not immediately be rebuffed: that their different truths may still hold some legitimacy. Of course, even as Gadamer’s theory seems to advocate subjective truths, he also suggests that horizons are flexible, and can change and grow as we do. The idea of a malleable horizon, then, means that though we are limited by our vantage point, our view need not be myopic. And perhaps this is a good tack to take when considering these somewhat sensitive problems.

There will always be some difficulty when ideas of different cultures come into contact, but the best thing we might do is accept these differences, but retain our curiosity and a willingness to re-examine our own beliefs and alter them, at least a little, if necessary. Having respect for different cultures is important, I believe, but we should not allow it to completely overtake artistic freedom. Perhaps the most important thing is to be always aware of the sensitive and sticky areas, accepting them as inevitable, and taking care to nurture them.