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China’s ban on Avatar – a mistake or an exaggeration?
Life in China
China’s ban on Avatar – a mistake or an exaggeration? | China’s ban on Avatar – a mistake or an exaggeration? |
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| Friday, 12 February 2010 | |
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Travelling through Beijing, Shenzhen and Shanghai in early January, I was amazed to discover that the entertainment section on these large cities’ regional newspapers had at least a whole page of different reviews on Avatar every day. Through both verbose and elegant language, the odd physique of the Na’vi species was described as a product of the boundless human imagination, the love between Jake and Neytiri was fitted into another Romeo and Juliet tale, while the importance of the Hometree was celebrated as a political fight to preserve nature and alleviate the contemporary issue of climate change. Such hyperbolic advocacy for a single movie would have made brilliant literary satire if translated for a Western audience, but was taken absolutely seriously by most Chinese readers.
Outside the cinema, long queues of people purchasing tickets were observable day and night, time after time. My attempt to find something authentically Chinese to watch was met by the grave disappointment that all screens were made to show Avatar ensuring its availability every 15 minutes all day long. Yet more ridiculous is a Shenzhen cinema manager’s need to kneel before a 500 audience because the overtly frequent replay of Avatar worn out the screen. The angry crowd professed to have travelled from smaller towns for hours to Shenzhen to enjoy the luxury of a 3D cinema unavailable in their hometowns and was only quietened by the distribution of a 200RMB apology fee to each individual. Despite unbelievable public endorsement of this must-see movie, I have personally not heard anyone praising it after watching, except for several Japanese-animation lovers who adored the visual effect of Avatar wholeheartedly but nevertheless admitted that its plot is plain.
So why did Avatar gross $73.2 million in China in just 2 weeks (a figure unimaginable for China’s own blockbusters)? The answer lies with a key characteristic of the Chinese population – it likes to follow the crowd. Economic development has been extremely rapid since the 90s, causing the emergence of a large but poorly educated middle class. Its lack of artistic and literary tastes led to the unique consumer culture phenomenon of crowd-following. Harry Potter is still publically worshipped with surprisingly little criticism, attracting the old and young alike, The Lord of the Rings became a major box-office hit in the last decade simply because it was reputed as “the better Harry Potter”. When KFC and McDonalds were first introduced into the country, even the wealthiest parents did not complain about queuing outside their doors in the burning sun, and Chinese investors’ habit of speculating has driven some stock prices up to having PE ratios of more than 100. Perhaps Avatar’s success is just another item on this list, and because it is known that the Chinese government only allows 20 Hollywood films into China each year, people try to see as many as they can.
But Avatar’s story does not stop here. Upon returning to the UK in late January, another strange event caught my attention. Numerous UK media, including The Guardian publicised the Chinese government’s ban on Avatar. They together painted a picture that the Chinese government has banned Avatar 2D screenings, restricting the showing to a limited number of cinemas with 3D facilities. Apart from protecting the domestic film industry, the Chinese government was also accused of preventing a popular revolt in Tibet similar to the one of the indigenous Na'vi by terminating the public’s access to Avatar. At first this seems another reflection of China’s typical media censorship, but a deeper examination would suggest that stories of minority overpowering a stronger counterparty are already widely available to the Chinese public, stretching from China’s numerous historical internal wars to the way the Communist Party rose to power from peasant revolts. Not only is the suggestion that Avatar’s plot stretches people’s imagination farfetched, wars fought with robots, Toruks and the magic of Eywa are beyond the potential of our contemporary military technology and would be of no help at all should there be a Tibet-China struggle.
Overwhelmed by my accidental discovery, I immediately called up my friends and relatives, seeking further descriptions of the violent protests resisting the government’s repression that I could only read about. But my curiosity was not satisfied, for that most people heard nothing about this ban. Those who have seen it have good reasons not to care, and those who haven’t simply replied, “what a pity, I wanted to check it out, but I’ve been so busy lately that now it’s probably not been shown anymore.” Although I do not wish to generalise with my own observations, the belief that a statistically politically inactive population can quickly move on with life with or without Avatar is convincing. Thus, if the western press is not exaggerating an accusation heavily embodied with political implications on the Chinese government, then the Chinese government has made the mistake of worrying excessively about political instability. Ironically, the more a government restricts the flow of information into China, the more its citizens will happily embrace all western influences, leading to seemingly puzzling phenomenon such as the record-breaking reception of Avatar.
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