'Mediated Persona’ and Hong Kong Stars: Negotiating Mainland Celebrity (Celebrity Studies, 2013)

This is an Author's Original Manuscript of an article submitted for consideration in Celebrity Studies [copyright Taylor

& Francis]; Celebrity Studies is available online at http://www.tandfonline.com/[10.1080/19392397.2013.791044].

‘Mediated Persona’ and Hong Kong Stars:

Negotiating Mainland Celebrity

Amanda Weiss

University of Tokyo, Japan

Using Corner’s theory (2003) of the mediated persona, this article analyses

the image construction of Hong Kong stars Jackie Chan and Andy Lau. It will

ask, how have these Hong Kong stars negotiated Mainland Chinese stardom,

particularly since the time of the handover in 1997? In what ways do the

personae of these stars seek to appeal to Mainland fans and markets? The

article will argue that Chan’s Mainland persona has been constructed through

a nationalist approach: he is seen wearing traditional Chinese clothing,

confronting the perceived Western power of Hollywood, and has made

statements in support of Mainland Chinese policies. In contrast, while Lau’s

Mainland persona also foregrounds ‘Chineseness’, it shies away from the

explicitly political. Rather, Lau’s Mainland persona reinforces his Asian (as

opposed to global) star image since it appeals to Chinese consumer dreams

and moral ideals.

Keywords: Jackie Chan, Andy Lau, star image, mediated persona, Chinese

stardom

Introduction

From the late 1970s, the Hong Kong entertainment industry dominated China’s popular

imagination. Thomas B. Gold (1993, pp.909-910) notes that Hong Kong media began

penetrating China’s market after the open-door policy. At that time, the Mainland was

largely a repository of Hong Kong and Taiwanese culture—Hong Kong and Taiwanese

star power was so absolute that even anti-Communists like Taiwanese singer Teresa Teng

were very popular in China in the late 1970’s.1 Thus from the late 1970s, China provided



the market and Hong Kong and Taiwan provided the commodities: the talent (Gold 1993,

pp. 923).

Hong Kong delivered the Mainland’s chief source of glamourous celebrities via

bootleg tapes, VCDs, DVDs and official imports. Their slick film productions, exciting

narratives, and highly developed star system were the Mainland’s dominant source of star

culture for the first few decades of economic reform. Yet after 30 years of a market

economy and enormous changes in the organisation of its domestic entertainment

industry, Mainland China has developed its own star system. From once ‘borrowing’ its

stars from Hong Kong, China is now creating its own. Mainlanders like Zhou Xun, Zhao

Wei, Jiang Wen, and Zhang Ziyi have displaced many Hong Kong movie stars, who can

no longer expect monolithic popularity in Chinese markets.

Yet at the same time, the slow ‘death’ of the Hong Kong film industry has led

Hong Kong entertainers to move northwards. A mixture of lackluster and repetitive

filmmaking, overexpansion, and economic woes ended the Golden era of Hong Kong

cinema in the early 1990s. From dominating Asia’s entertainment, Hong Kong now finds

itself reliant on China. The Closer Economic Partnership Arrangement of 2004, which

reclassified Hong Kong films as Mainland productions, provided some much-needed

economic support to the ailing industry (Zhu and Nakajima 2010, pp. 33). As Laikwan

Pang (2007, pp. 416) suggests, “…in the last decade Hong Kong film companies have

downplayed the emphasis on the local market, as the China market becomes increasingly

dominant.” Add to this a desire to capitalise on China’s seemingly endless market, and it

is no wonder that since the handover of Hong Kong, many stars have begun focusing on

Mainland markets (Coonan 2009, online).

This study explores the ways in which Hong Kong stars negotiate Mainland

stardom through their star image. In other words, how are the personae of Hong Kong

stars constructed to appeal to Mainland markets? I focus on two Hong Kong stars in the

Mainland market—local actor/singer star Andy Lau and international action film star

Jackie Chan. I choose these two stars as they are both older male Hong Kong stars who

enjoy a great deal of exposure and popularity in Mainland China. Concentrating on their

constructed star images, this study will analyse the different ways by which Andy Lau

and Jackie Chan’s personae are mediated to appeal to the Mainland market.



Mediated Persona

John Corner discusses how the personae of politicians are mediated through staged

political performances. He argues that while we often adjust our personae even in our

private lives, politicians are special in the scale and impact of their persona building. He

states,

The self-presentation of politicians, however, is widely seen to be distinctive

as a result of the scale of its projection…the degree of self-conscious strategy

attending its planning and performance, the intensity of its interaction with

media systems, and the degree to which certain personal qualities are seen not

merely to enhance but to underwrite political values (Corner 2003, pp. 68).

A politician’s persona, as well as that of other public figures, relies heavily on the media

for its wide-reaching impact. The projection of self for a politician is further used to

emphasise the political legitimacy of the candidate.

The public and private unite at this point of the projection of self, blurring the line

between public sphere and private sphere. Corner demonstrates the ways in which

different spheres of action interact. These spheres include political institutions and

processes, the private sphere, and the sphere of the public and popular. He notes that the

sphere of the public and popular is “the space of a demonstrable representativeness”

(Corner 2003, pp. 74). In effect, this is where the politician presents their persona. Within

this sphere there are two distinctions. The place where the private sphere and the public

sphere intersect is where the politician shows their private persona to the public. On the

other hand, the place where the sphere of political institutions and the public sphere

intersect is where the politician shows their political persona to the public, or where other

organised bodies criticise, analyse or otherwise represent the politician publicly.

Corner further delineates the three types of mediations that take place in political

presentation: iconic, vocal and kinetic. Iconic mediations are situations such as the posed

photograph, in other words, the politician’s clothing choice, haircut, facial expression,

and physical behaviour. Vocal mediations are forms of public address—both the way in



which the speaker performs and what they say are important elements of the mediated

persona. Finally, there is the kinetic element. With this, Corner refers to ‘high’ and ‘low’

politics, such as the politician’s participation in glamorous international conferences as

contrasted with visits to factories. This stems from the politician’s desire to reach a varied

range of constituents and political groups by appealing to a wide stratum of society. The

mixture of these three elements leads to the construction of the mediated persona (Corner

2003, pp. 69).

Corner’s concept of mediated personae applies to stars as well. Like politicians,

celebrities 2 often construct their star image by strategically managing public

representations of their professional and private personae. Richard Dyer (2004, pp.2)

touches upon the multiple ways in which star images are created:

A film star’s image is not just his or her films, but the promotion of those

films and of the star through pin-ups, public appearances, studio hand-outs

and so on, as well as interviews, biographies and coverage in the press of the

stars’ doings and ‘private’ life.

Thus, a star’s persona is created via the various iconic, vocal and kinetic

mediations presented to audiences in the sphere of the public and popular. This

presentation of multiple selves can be problematic. Chris Rojek (2001, pp. 10-11) notes

that while the presentation of the persona is always staged, the divide between the ‘star’

self and the ‘real’ self can become blurry and indistinct for both the star and audiences

alike. Additionally, the institution of celebrity shares much in common with democratic

political systems. Stardom is based on popularity, which is at its core an election. Both

Marshall (2004) and Rojek discuss celebrity’s relationship to democratic culture:

celebrity is legitimised by the support of popular culture (Marshall, pp. 7, Rojek 2001,

pp. 9). A celebrity is like a politician as they attempt to appeal to audience members and

gain their support. Audience members are ‘consumer-voters’—by purchasing media

about the star, by attending their films or buying their DVD’s, they are in essence

‘voting’ for the star.



Corner’s theory is also fitting in that the relationship between Hong Kong and

China, even for stars, is also political. After the handover of Hong Kong in 1997, many

Hong Kong stars faced a political choice of alliances. Do they remain in Hong Kong to

see where the handover would lead the entertainment industry? Do they position

themselves to appeal to the US/European markets? Do they appeal to the Mainland

market? In the case of the Mainland, how do they negotiate the different political systems

and socio-cultural attitudes to appeal to a new audience without alienating homegrown

fans? Exploring further, how do these stars use iconic, vocal and kinetic mediations to

achieve their goals? This study will attempt to answer some of these questions.

Mainland Chinese Stardom

Chinese fandom is tied to the conventions of pan-Asian stardom. According to Bertha

Chin (2007, pp.216), Asian fandom is star-centric, not character-centric. She argues,

We constantly return to the figure of the star (such as Jackie Chan or Leon

Lai) as the object of (Asian) fan adoration rather than a specific filmic text or

genre. Even within the space of the Internet, websites and forums are mostly

geared towards an actor rather than a film.

Stars throughout Asia are often double and ‘triple-threat’ singer/actor/TV personalities—

a context that reinforces the focus on the individual as star.3 Further, all dialects of

Chinese are mutually intelligible in their written forms. Such linguistic availability

weakens the distinctions among Chinese regional stardoms. Cantonese speakers in Hong

Kong are largely aware of Jackie Chan’s Mainland persona, and interviews he conducts

in China affect his reception in Hong Kong. The Internet and fan translations (the

‘globalisation of fandom’) further obliterate distinctions in local stardom. However, there

are important and subtle ways in which Mainland stardom is distinct from the rest of East

Asia, and in particular, Hong Kong.

Hong Kong and Chinese audiences interpret stars slightly differently. In a study

by Yue and Cheung, the authors used interviews and surveys with 826 high school



students from Hong Kong and Nanjing to investigate each region’s criteria of fandom and

idol worship. They found that Chinese idol worship is generally based on “identification

with or romantic attachment to idol figures for intimacy and identity formation” (2000,

pp. 92). Hong Kong idols were perceived as “carefree and hedonistic” by young

mainlanders, who have received an education populated by ideological heroes that

promote a strong sense of social responsibility and altruistic behaviour (Yue and Cheung

2000, pp. 92). The researchers further suggested that young Mainland Chinese find it

difficult to differentiate between role models and idols, and that they are more likely to

appreciate a star that projects a simple lifestyle, humble background, and altruistic

tendencies (Yue and Cheung 2000, pp. 97). As Corner says, for a personality to be judged

to be a “person of qualities… The projection of an optimal political self will often require

careful attention to popular values...” (Corner 2003, pp. 75). Hong Kong stars must—to a

certain extent—note and project Mainland Chinese values to be successful in that market.

The results of this study should not suggest a simple binary—Lau and Chan have

invoked the model/hard worker narrative in both markets. Further, according to Wing-Fai

Leung (2007, pp. 32), Hong Kong audiences interpret younger and older stars differently.

Younger stars are often considered less trained and less talented than the stars of Hong

Kong’s 1980’s golden era. Their popularity is also viewed as manufactured and reliant

on heavy promotion. Meanwhile, audiences often attribute the talent and professionalism

of older stars (including Lau and Chan) to years of training and effort—in essence, they

succeeded due to hard work. Despite this, the aforementioned study may suggest that the

hard working role model narrative is especially admired in Mainland China. Gold and

Chin propose further factors that contribute to Mainland success. Originally, the

popularity of Hong Kong and Taiwanese actor/singers in China was based on five

criteria: popularity, novelty, content, ‘Chineseness,’ and escapism (Gold and Chin 1993,

pp. 913-915). ‘Chineseness,’ which comes with ties to either overt or latent Chinese

nationalism, has long been a successful strategy for Mainland success. (pp. 922).4

Therefore, we can conclude that some elements of Mainland stardom include:

actor/singer-centric appeal, role model behaviour, patriotism/ethnic ‘Chineseness,’ and

entertainment appeal (how talented/skilled at performing the stars are perceived). Hong



Kong stars aiming for Mainland popularity often express these qualities in their iconic,

vocal and kinetic appearances.5

In terms of the focus on the Mainland market, age is an important complicating

factor for both Chan and Lau. Due to changing consumption practices, audiences might

not ‘consume’ older stars through their films or music. Leung argues that while many

young Hong Kongese were very familiar with Chan and Lau, they had seen few if any of

the films featuring the two actors (Leung 2007, pp. 31). The star images of older stars

like Lau and Chan are shaped through paparazzi images, magazine interviews, and

television appearances. Moreover, Lau and Chan, as ageing actors, must change their

personae to match their ageing bodies. Chan no longer has the ability to perform his

physical tricks with the same vigour; Lau is no longer a boyish idol. According to Chris

Holmlund (2010, pp. 101), Jackie Chan’s target audience has long been composed of

youth (teenagers and 20-somethings) and his stardom depends heavily on his physical

abilities. As such, his ageing has manifested itself in certain ways—fewer daring martial

arts, scarcer romantic scenes, more scenes with characters older than himself.6 Both Lau

and Chan’s images must be renegotiated—how has that occurred in a new political

climate and in the face of ageing?

In examining Andy Lau and Jackie Chan, I will first look at the Mandarin

language filmography of the two stars and highlight different approaches to targeting

Mainland audiences. I will then analyse Chan and Lau’s iconic/vocal mediations in

interviews and Beijing Olympic music videos. Finally, I will summarise how each stars’

filmic and personal appearances reveal the highly-structured process of Mainland

personae building, and the ways in which these mediations demonstrate representational

strategies in targeting the Mainland.

Jackie Chan

Jackie Chan’s career has undergone a series of persona changes. Nien-Ying Wang (2005)

divides Chan’s career into three stages up to the 1990s. Chan first rose to fame as a

comedic version of the folk hero Wong Feihung. Then, from the 1980s, he became a

‘sophisticated city cop’ in films such as Police Story. As 1997 approached, Chan became



an international figure in movies such as First Strike (Wang 2005, pp. 21-30). Kwan-

Pang Lai (2007) notes a similar local to global transformation in the mid 1990s. Chan

became the Tourism Ambassador for Hong Kong and his identity shifted from a ‘colonial

identity’ (his ‘loyal civil servant’ character of the 1980’s) to a global identity

(international co-productions from the late 1990’s to the present). Chan, as Hong Kong’s

Tourism Ambassador and its most globally famous actor, thus emerged as a

representational figure for Hong Kong (Pang 2007, pp. 206, Fore 2001, pp. 131-132). In

the follow-up to the 2008 Beijing Olympics, Chan became one of the most visible

representatives of the games, thereby further expanding his ‘representative identity’ to

encompass not only Hong Kong, but also all of China.

Now, Chan is once again reinventing himself for the Mainland market by re-

defining his ‘Chineseness.’ According to Steve Fore (1997, pp. 253), as he cultivated his

popularity:

Jackie Chan had to establish himself as a Chinese, and even more

specifically, a Hong Kong star. He did so in part by developing a screen

persona that corresponds in important ways with traits and behaviours that

are virtuous in Hong Kong.

I would further argue that Chan has long since begun a process of renegotiating his Hong

Kong Chineseness into a larger pan-Chineseness that encompasses the entire Chinese

diaspora. This is a complex process. While Chan may still appeal to Hong Kong

audiences somewhat as a ‘Hong Kong star,’ his pan-China persona may usurp and de-

legitimise his ‘localised’ Chineseness to some extent.

The disparity between Chan’s Greater China and US personae are clear. In Hong

Kong, Taiwan and China, Chan has a reputation as a ‘lady’s man,’ inattentive father,

political loudmouth, and respected film industry ‘big gun.’ In the US he is considered to

be a clownish though compelling and likable kungfu comedian. There is little interest in

Chan’s private or sexual life in the United States, and he uses this disinterest to create a

clean, desexualised, and comedic image. Meanwhile, Chan’s Hong Kong and Mainland

personae largely converge due to language. Mandarin and Cantonese are mutually



recognisable via Chinese characters, and most of Chan’s interviews and appearances are

subtitled in Chinese to make them accessible to both markets. Nevertheless, Chan’s

recent interviews, declining popularity in Hong Kong, and frequently outspoken

appearances in Mainland media suggest a specific and concerted effort to construct a

Mainland-targeted persona. As will be discussed below, after conquering the US market

in the mid 1990s, Jackie Chan turned his attention to the Mainland market through

concerts, commercials and Mandarin language films.

Andy Lau

Lau’s childhood was—like Chan’s—characterised by poverty and persistence. After

years on Hong Kong television, Lau broke into cinema and wider success in the late

1980s, also developing his own production company in the process. Unlike Chan, Lau

first developed as a TV star/idol, then a movie star/idol, and later as a ‘serious actor’

known for his.physical attractiveness and charm. His concerts are frequent record

breakers in the Mainland, and he was one of the ‘Four Heavenly Kings’ of Cantopop in

the early 1990s. Further, also unlike Chan, Lau is known for his filial piety and strong

family life: he lives next door to his father and has remained with the same woman for

over twenty years (Gough 2004).

Another important difference between Chan and Lau is that Lau is primarily an

Asian star. For lack of a better term, I use ‘local’ as Lau appears almost exclusively on

Hong Kong and Mainland markets, and to a lesser extent, in other Asian markets. Lau

appears regularly on Hong Kong, Taiwanese and Chinese television and until the mid

2000s, he was a frequent recipient of Hong Kong music awards and other recognitions—

as of 2005, his concert ticket sales in Hong Kong outsold Chan’s (though this is not

entirely surprising—Lau’s persona is based on his singing career). Chan, as China’s

‘global' ambassador, is more visible internationally. In Forbes China’s list of the most

powerful celebrities in Mainland China, Lau is third to Jackie Chan’s first (Flannery and

Chen 2010, online). Chan’s global power trumps Lau’s local power in terms of name

recognition and net worth.



Yet like Chan, Lau also modulates his Chineseness to better target each market.

According to Erni,

In 1995, he ‘resurrected’ [the song] ‘Last Night on the Star Ferry’ in order to

rekindle an emotional sense of local belonging [in Hong Kong]….And in

1997 on the eve of the historical handover, he released ‘Chinese’ and used it

to heavy-drum his way into the affective spaces that crossed over new and old

patriotic feelings (2007, pp. 98).

Lau is thus able to appeal to Hong Kong audiences through nostalgic songs depicting the

local imagery of Hong Kong’s Star Ferry, while concurrently appealing to pan-

Chineseness through lyrics describing a vague sense of a shared ethnicity and past. The

lyrics to ‘Chinese’ (1997) focus on the ‘we’ as in ‘we Chinese’: “We will keep them in

our hears/The same blood, the same seed…There is no you or I/We step forward/Let the

world know that we are Chinese” (Erni 2007, pp. 103). In other words, a seemingly

political7 song like ‘Chinese’ stays on the affective side of national/ethnic identity,

whereas Jackie Chan more directly confronts the Hong Kong/China relationship in his

interviews.

Finally, Lau’s Mainland persona often deviates from his Hong Kong persona in

terms of iconic mediation. The Hong Kong audience’s preference for youthfulness8

means that Lau’s physical presentation there focuses more on projecting youth through

trendiness. He tends to wear casual street wear (tee-shirts, sneakers) on Hong Kong

television. On the other hand, Lau frequently appears on Mainland television in

expensive suits, perhaps tapping into rising consumer consciousness there.

Filmographies

The following section aims to track the stars’ shift to Mainland film markets. While

Cantonese films have long been dubbed into Mandarin, new Mandarin productions are

important as they suggest a concerted effort to more directly appeal to Mainland markets.

With the decline of the Hong Kong industry and the rise of the Mainland industry, it is



important to note the ways in which Hong Kong stars focus more specifically on the

Mainland market.

Beginning in the mid 1990s and fueled by his ‘conquering’ of the US market,

Jackie Chan began almost exclusively making transnational co-productions. 1999’s

Gorgeous was a Hong Kong/Taiwan co-production, while Jackie Chan’s First Strike

(1996) was a Hong Kong/Russia/US/Australia production. Surprisingly, Chan took a long

time to fully commit to the Mainland market both linguistically and financially. Chan’s

first fully Mandarin language production was The Myth (2005), while his first official

China co-production was the English-language The Forbidden Kingdom (2008), funded

partially by China Film Co-Production Company and Huayi Brothers. The film starred

Mainland stars Mainland actors Jet Li and Liu Yifei. Chan also had a very minor role in

the Chinese propaganda film The Founding of a Republic (2009), which was created to

commemorate the 60th anniversary of the CCP. Little Big Soldier (2010) was Chan’s

second Mainland film (also a Hong Kong co-production). His 100th film, 1911 (2011), is

a dramatic telling of Sun Yat-sen’s story. Notably, Chan chose the biography of a

Chinese figure beloved across the Chinese diaspora as his 100th film. The Mainland

branch of Chan’s Jackie and JJ productions funded the film, and the film largely stars

Taiwanese and Mainland stars.

Yet while Chan has only just of late (2005) begun transitioning to Mainland co-

productions and Mandarin-language film productions, this does not suggest earlier

disinterest in the Mainland market. Chan’s Chinese commercial work, concerts, and

appearances began soon after 1997. He frequently headlines massive star-studded

Mainland concerts such as ‘Jackie and Friends.’9 However, his recent and renewed

interest in Chinese film markets demonstrates increased emphasis on the Mainland. It is

clear that Chan has recently developed further interest in focusing and expanding his

popularity in China.

Meanwhile, Andy Lau moved tentatively into the Mainland market, beginning his

career in China with the film Fascination Amour (1999), a minor movie with little critical

or public acclaim. His next venture into Mainland productions was far more important:

the Mainland/Hong Kong co-production House of Flying Daggers (2004). This film was

directed by Zhang Yimou and starred pan-Asian star Takeshi Kaneshiro and Mainland



star Zhang Ziyi. Flying Daggers was a co-production with funding drawn from three

Mainland and two Hong Kong production companies. Lau’s second, and most influential

Mainland film to date, was Feng Xiaogang’s A World Without Thieves (2004). The film

was a box office smash, with a budget of 1.4 million RMB and a box office of 120

million RMB (A World 2010, online). Lau’s choice of Zhang Yimou and Feng Xiaogang-

directed films signaled a conscious move towards Mainland cinema. Zhang Yimou is the

Mainland’s most ‘global’ director, a filmmaker who commands immense international

visibility and domestic respect. Meanwhile, Feng Xiaogang is China’s most popular

director, a filmmaker who seemingly has his finger on the pulse of what Chinese

audiences want. By choosing to make high-profile Mandarin-language films with China’s

top artistic and commercial directors, Lau demonstrated a resolute move towards

Mainland audiences.

Lau’s following transnational productions were varied, but almost all were filmed

in Mandarin with Chinese co-funding. Battle of Wits (2006) had Japanese, Korean, Hong

Kong, and Chinese funding and was filmed in Mandarin. Brothers (2007) had Hong

Kong, Singapore, and Chinese funding and had scenes in a variety of languages,

including Mandarin. His next big Mainland production was Warlords (2007), funded by

China/Hong Kong, heavily promoted in the Mainland, and filmed in Mandarin. Three

Kingdoms (2008) was also recorded in Mandarin and funded by Hong Kong, Mainland

China, and South Korea. The Founding of a Republic (2009), a nationalistic 60th

anniversary film, featured Lau in a much larger role than Jackie Chan and was also

filmed in Mandarin with purely Chinese producers. Lau also appeared in the Mainland

film What Women Want (2011) directed by famous Chinese actor Chen Daming and co-

starring Gong Li. Thus, beginning in 2004, Lau made a clear shift to Mandarin language

Chinese co-productions.

Lau has also extended his hand into producing for the Mainland market. Through

‘Focus: First Cuts,’ Lau personally funded a series of digital films across Asia (Pang

2007, pp. 421). One of these films, Crazy Stone (2006), was immensely popular in

Mainland China and used Lau’s name heavily in promoting its early advertising. Pang

argues that Andy Lau helped ‘brand’ the project by overlapping his star image with the

film’s marketing (Pang 2007, pp. 418). Yet Lau also benefited from this branding—after



its success, Lau’s name was associated with the much-appreciated film. Thus, in

producing ‘local’ Chinese films like Crazy Stone (2006), Lau is an active participant and

supporter of the local Chinese film market.

Therefore, Lau’s Mainland film trajectory differs greatly from Chan’s. For the

past several years, Lau has focused on targeted local productions both at the acting level

(by working with China’s lead directors and recording solely in Mandarin), and at the

production level (by producing local Mainland productions like Crazy Stone (2006)).

Both men are producers, though Lau began investing in and strengthening ties between

his company and Mainland productions at a much earlier stage. Chan has only of late

begun to focus his attention more specifically on the Mainland market. This suggests in

part differing kinetic mediations—Lau appears in ‘local’ Chinese films, thereby

reinforcing his Chinese localness; Chan appears in both Chinese and international

productions, thus promoting a more ‘global’ persona.

Interviews

This section compares interviews by Lau and Chan from the TV program Artistic Life

and the men’s magazine China Esquire. Two dominant themes emerge in Chan’s

interviews: narratives of hard work paying off and support for Chinese nationalism. In his

January 19th, 2005 Artistic Life interview, Chan does not modestly reject the host’s

suggestion of his ‘legendary’ status. Surprising the audience, he agrees that he is a

‘legend,’ noting that his almost mythical rise from extreme poverty to international fame

occurred through painstaking effort.10 He discusses his troubled childhood, citing his

childhood of absolute poverty and harsh Peking Opera training. He notes that his only

source of fuel was his ambition, and that it took decades of work and diligence to succeed.

Chan also emphasises Chinese nationalism. In the same interview, he tells the

audience, “You look at all the films I have made, I have never ‘lost face’ for China.” At

this, the studio audience erupts in applause. He characterises his fame in the US as a one-

way relationship, with famous US stars bowing to him: “Some even, they even do this

when they see me [he motions kowtowing].” This narrative—of Americans bowing to a

Chinese national hero—in many ways evokes the desires of a rising Chinese global



power. His 2007 Esquire interview touches on similar themes. Chan downplays Hong

Kong local films and asserts the ascendancy of the Chinese market: “No matter how you

look at it, everyone is coming to the Mainland to develop. Now Hong Kong will only

film local flavour films.” He emphasises his Chinese citizenship: “When I got there, I

was in a second class situation. I had no self-confidence, no self-respect, no respect from

others…in China, at least I could be a first class citizen.” He criticises the US: “[A]ll of

China knows foreign things, but [Americans] only know one or two things…” He

laments foreign influence, lamenting, “I don’t know why foreigners are always invading

our markets.” As in his Artistic Life interview, Chan wears traditional Chinese clothing.

He also holds Chinese calligraphy brushes, and the graphic design of the magazine

emphasises traditional calligraphy-style text. Thus, the ‘iconic’ imagery of the interview

serves to emphasise the narrative of Chan as nationally and ethnically Chinese.

Both Chan’s Artistic Life and Esquire interviews focus attention on his hard work,

deserved success, and Chinese nationalism. In essence, the interviews posit Chan as a

metaphor for a newly emerging China. For Chan to navigate from global star to Chinese

national star, the West is a necessary Other—his Hollywood films were meaningless,

Westerners do not understand the ‘true meaning’ of Chinese culture, and Chan’s heart

belongs in China. By emphasizing that it is Americans/global society that look up to him,

Chan is inverting the original narrative (his early struggle in the US market), and

presenting himself as superior to the West. Chan’s tale represents a globalised China that,

after a period of struggle, is now commanding respect and even reverence from the world.

Three trends emerged in Lau’s Artistic Life and Esquire interviews. First of all,

humility is the defining component of his star image. Lau’s Artistic Life interview was

conducted with Tony Leung for the film Infernal Affairs 3 in December 2003. During the

interview, he comes to the aid of Tong Leung with self-deprecating humor—when the

host informs Leung that some audience members feel he cannot play a variety of

characters, Lau laughs, “Sounds like they are talking about me!” The audience erupts in

laughter, Leung smiles in relief, and a tense moment is resolved. Later in the interview,

Lau presents his talent as the result of hard work and not natural talent. He notes that he

worked for many years through criticism and negative feedback, and that through this

hard work he was able to improve. Further, Lau’s Esquire interview also emphasises his



humbleness. The first quote is: “I am a human. I am a man. I am an ordinary man.” The

interview highlights Lau’s ‘model worker’ nature, noting his arrival on time, his speed

and efficiency, and even the fact that he sends Christmas cards to friends and co-workers

without fail each year. Thus Lau’s hard worker image, unlike Chan’s, is characterised by

modesty. While both stars are clearly ‘hard workers,’ Lau changes the concept in an

important way. For Chan the focus is entirely on the self. He rarely, if ever,

acknowledges other stars as integral to his own success. His modesty is framed in terms

of his benevolent sharing of wealth, not in terms of his respect for other artists. Even

Chan’s Mainland concerts are called ‘Jackie Chan and Friends,’ with other artists

anonymous until they are paraded en masse for a short period of time onstage. In other

words, Chan’s hard work narrative is based on his uniqueness. Lau does not mind sharing

the stage, and it is this sharing that partially shapes his persona as a star compatible with

the larger entertainment family. Lau’s frequent statements about hard work as the key to

success, mixed with his modest downplaying of himself, align him more seamlessly with

‘model workers’ like Lei Feng.

Secondly, also unlike Chan, Lau attempts to sidestep provocative political

questions. In Artistic Life he is asked if he would prefer a Hong Kong award or an

international award. Lau pauses, laughs uncomfortably, then asks why the interviewer

would ask such a question. Finally, he diplomatically chooses the ‘local’ response: he

would prefer a Hong Kong award first. Afterwards he attempts to move the conversation

away from this topic. Lau’s quick rejection of political questions suggests that sensitive

political issues are not a part of his star image.

Thirdly, in terms of iconic mediation, Lau’s Mainland image is cosmopolitan. In

Esquire, Lau wears Western-style leather jackets and fitted suits, his poses similar to

young fashion models in high-end advertisements. He looks fashionable, slim, and

surprisingly boyish for a man of nearly 50 years. As in many other magazines, he is

filmed in classic black and white and in somewhat insouciant poses. His poses suggest

modernity and wealth.11 In stark contrast to Chan’s appeal to Chinese ethnic and national

identity, Lau’s physical representation is fairly unremarkable. There are three possible

explanations: Perhaps Lau, as a former idol, is associated with modern fashion. Or, as a

local Chinese star, he might not need to defend his Chineseness with Tang-dynasty



clothing. Finally, the magazine may be appealing to the burgeoning materialism of the

Chinese middle classes through Lau.

Olympic Videos

In the lead-up to the Beijing 2008 Olympics, Jackie Chan and Andy Lau both recorded

official Olympics theme songs. Chan’s theme song was the main theme song for the

Olympics, ‘Beijing Welcomes You.’ His video played repeatedly on the subways and

televisions to international audiences before, during and long after the Olympics. The

lyrics of the song are simple and apolitical, emphasizing the hospitality and beauty of

China. Chan sings the phrase, “Welcome to Beijing, we will show you a brand new

place.”

Chan is the first to sing, ‘Beijing welcomes you’ and also the last singer pictured.

His appearance is dramatic and striking—he emerges against a backdrop of mountains

and the Great Wall, his back to the camera. We can see the official logo of the Olympics

over his shoulder. Chan begins to sing, turning around slowly, holding his arms out in

welcome to the camera as the official ambassador to China. The several dozen other stars

from Greater China are all at ground level, usually in front of buildings. Thus Chan’s

presentation here evokes a mixture of his Chinese national hero and ‘big brother’

persona, as well as his benevolence as a kindly, welcoming ambassador in an elevated

position on the Great Wall. In addition to his height and central importance as the first to

sing, ‘Beijing welcomes you,’ he is also clearly acknowledged for his international fame

and status as the Big Brother of the Chinese entertainment industry.

As the main representative for the 2008 Paralympics, Andy Lau released his own

Olympics theme song, ‘Everyone is No. 1.’ He did not participate in Chan’s star-studded

epic ‘Beijing Welcomes You.’ While both Lau and Chan emphasise their Chineseness by

participating in China’s 2008 Olympic media, Lau’s presentation differs in many ways.

His music video is both more personable and less political, suggesting a general message

of goodwill outside of the nationalistic framework. The song relates a broad personal tale

of struggle and determination with no specific references to China. The main lyrics are:

“My road isn’t your road, my pain isn’t your pain, each person has hidden abilities…We



need to be calm and keep on running forward! Everyone is No. 1!” In the music video, a

car hits a postal worker (played by Lau), who loses his leg. The story relates the worker’s

struggle against the odds, commitment to hard work, and fight towards eventual success.

Lau’s character first reflects on the past, from working as a postal worker to being hit by

a car and losing his leg. This is a new image of a tragic Everyman Lau, who usually plays

glamorous gangsters. This is followed by a montage of his regret—past successes and

medals—which is followed by a montage of his eventual redemption. He slowly

improves his running, begins to mentor a paralysed boy, and finally succeeds in the race.

The video particularly stresses Lau’s emergence as a benevolent mentor whose struggle

inspires another paralysed boy to walk.

Since the song emphasises ‘everyone,’ it presents Lau as an apolitical Everyman.

Lau plays the main character—as such, he ‘becomes’ the injured character, an intimate

choice that emphasises his humanity and likability. The film opens with a shocking

image: Lau sits in a locker in athletic gear, one of his legs replaced by an artificial limb.

The camera lingers on his image. It is shocking to see the charismatic, handsome idol

injured and dejected. Lau plays a postal worker, a government worker who is one of the

‘people,’ further shortening the distance between Lau and the audience. By playing such

an ‘average’ person, Lau becomes a normal, accessible human being. In addition to

iconic mediation, this is also a form of kinetic mediation. Lau is not only suave and

debonair at galas and in fashion magazines, but he can also be a regular person

susceptible to injury.

Lau and Chan’s mediated personae in these two videos mainly demonstrate

differing approaches to Chineseness. Lau is a strictly Chinese hero: he works with

Mainland directors, he produces purely Chinese films, and he speaks Mandarin in his

films and interviews with a high level of fluency. In addition, Lau makes films with

Greater China funding, a choice that further demonstrates his commitment to the local

community. In his Olympic video he is not above the crowds, he is part of the crowd, and

the wounds of a simple Chinese postal worker are his wounds. Andy Lau is thus a pan-

Chinese star whose image enforces his Mainland Chinese persona by embedding him

further into the Chinese film industry and into the consciousness of Chinese fans. His



image manages this feat by emphasizing that he is one of them. As a result, unlike Jackie

Chan, Andy Lau does not need to define his persona politically.

Conclusion

Chan and Lau are both attempting to navigate increasing nationalism in China as the

country’s economic power expands. Chan, as a partially Westernised transnational star,

may need to reject his Western heritage and redefine his wealth/power as Confucian

benevolence to fit into the narrative of a rising China. Thus even though he is a ‘global’

star, his image must position him as a bastion of ‘Chineseness’ in an unfriendly

Hollywood (Western) system, a ‘big brother’ who will use his wealth to make ‘big

changes’ for the Chinese poor, who will represent Chinese culture to the international

masses. Yet there is limit to political machinations imposed by stardom: Chan’s more

explicit political overtures tend to inspire a rolling of the eyes. His declining popularity in

Hong Kong has been attributed to his paternalistic lecturing, which has intensified as he

ages/becomes more powerful. Chan tends to criticise Hong Kong citizens and admonish

them for what he considers to be poor behaviour, often expressing his dislike of

contemporary trends (such as hip hop) (Pang 2007, pp. 207). Further, his Mandarin

language interviews, previously unreleased in English, are now translated and uploaded

to Youtube and other sites. As his nationalistic Chinese persona bleeds into the American

market, Chan may find himself forced to reconcile his two personae—Western media has

already covered some of Chan’s recent scandals. On the other hand, perhaps he has

begun. Chan has recently begun to appear in Tang-inspired dress in Western broadcasts.

Meanwhile, as a primarily Chinese star, Andy Lau’s image does not need to

define or defend his Chineseness. Despite his Western dress, Lau’s persona is more ‘local

Chinese,’ with his narrative based on the ‘Chinese ideals’ of modesty and work ethic. His

roles also bring him closer to Mainland audiences. Lau can avoid political statements

because he has not made Western films (and is thus limited to his local markets), and also

because he inserts himself into the Mainland market aggressively. Further, Lau

approaches his own ‘Big Brother’ title differently. Rather than describing his wealth and

power as deserved, he plays the consummate professional and and grateful star. Stardom



is only bashfully acknowledged. Finally, Lau’s entry into the Mainland market may be

partially inspired by ageing. Hong Kong audiences are beginning to tire of the ageing Lau,

whereas Mainland audiences may see in him a classy model of the urbane Chinese male

and an aspiration for Mainland consumers.

Returning to Corner’s theory of mediated persona, this study of Chan and Lau

demonstrates the ways in which a theory meant to analyse the persona-building of

politicians applies to other public figures, in the case politicised actors. Celebrity is

framed by persona building, but in charged political situations like the handover of Hong

Kong to China, it becomes fraught with political meaning. The safest course of action for

Hong Kong stars appears to be to either politically support the Mainland government

(Chan), or remain silent/ambiguous on political issues (Lau). Chan’s course may have

repercussions: he has lately found himself alienating fans with his overt political

statements, such as the controversial “The Chinese need to be controlled” (zhongguoren

xuyao guanli) statement. Ultimately, for both of these stars, there is not only the issue of

pan-Asian stardom, but also transnational stardom. In an era where the internet spreads

information instantaneously and linguistic differences are translated, uploaded, broadcast

and re-broadcast, mediating persona to local markets will become increasingly

problematic.

1 In today’s Chinese society, famous stars are often rejected for even a hint of anti-Chinese national sentiment. Both actress Zhao Wei and actor/director Jiang Wen were criticised for lesser actions. 2 By ‘celebrity,’ I refer to a person in the public sphere who is widely recognised, though not necessarily for being an entertainer. A celebrity may be well known for a variety of reasons and can essentially be anyone who is famous—an actor, a reality television performer, a politician, etc. By ‘star,’ I refer to an entertainer in the public sphere whose extensive manufactured fame is usually integral to the marketing of their products (films, television shows, concerts, etc.) and whose fame has a certain amount of longevity and uniqueness associated with it. A ‘star’ is usually an actor, singer or other kind of performing artist. 3 Almost all Hong Kong/Japanese/Korean stars are actor/singers. Brian Hu (2006, pp. 410) argues that the actor star system is “linked symbiotically with the recording industry.” Bertha Chin also notes, “[M]ost stars in Asia are required to sing and act for both film and TV” (Chin 2007, pp. 216). 4 For example, in 1984, Hong Kong singer Zhang Mingmin extolled the virtues of Chineseness with ‘My Chinese Heart,’ a song that was broadcast repeatedly to resounding success in the Mainland. 5 Jackie Chan is an example. He is an actor/singer, he devotes time to numerous charitable causes, his fame is based on his ability to perform dangerous stunts, and he appeals to ‘Chineseness’ through Chinese clothes and Confucian benevolence. 6 Chan seldom does romantic films, with the exception of Gorgeous (1999). He is more readily accepted as a romantic/dramatic lead throughout the Chinese diaspora—though not necessarily popular.



7 By ‘being political,’ I refer to publically discussing the public affairs/current events of the Chinese nation. This concept of ‘political’ includes discussing government policies, territorial issues, national treasures, China’s relationship with other countries, , and the future of China as a nation. 8According to Yue and Cheung, “…it may be argued that the adolescent idol worship culture in Hong Kong is primarily a ‘‘three stars worship’’ culture (worshipping pop stars, movie stars, and sports stars), essential to which is a genuine admiration for the glamour, youthfulness, wealth, and uniqueness that the ‘‘three stars’’ typically represent in their private or public lives (Yue, 1999)” (pp. 99). Trendiness may be one way for Andy Lau to access youthfulness. 9 These are a series of concerts with Jackie Chan as the centrepiece and host. His famous Chinese guest singers comprise the ‘friends’ of the title. 10 Chan’s mediated persona is replete with tales of suffering and success: torturous training at a Chinese Opera school, family strife, initial failure in the US, and painstaking effort to make his dream of international success come true. Mary Farquhar (2010, pp.180) argues that the formation of Jackie Chan’s star image is framed by ‘pain and triumph, such as his childhood operatic training…[and] the high-risk on-screen stunts that he performs himself.” She also notes that Chan’s on and off-screen persona relies on the disparity between pain and comedy, humiliation and high-flying stunts (pp. 181). 11 As mentioned previously, this may be the result of both Lau’s idol persona and the Hong Kong market’s demand for youthful stars.

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'Mediated Persona’ and Hong Kong Stars: Negotiating Mainland Celebrity (Celebrity Studies, 2013)

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