Chapter 00283: The Golden Statue Awards
# The Golden Statue Awards
Chapter 283
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 283: The Golden Statue Awards
During the Republican era, there was a Yunnan warlord named Tang Jiyao.
Tang Jiyao had a granddaughter named Tang Shuxuan.
She studied film in the United States, made several movies in Hong Kong, and founded a magazine called *Close-Up*.
Later, when the magazine shut down, several of its editors struck out on their own and launched another publication called *City Entertainment*.
Among the countless film publications in Hong Kong, *City Entertainment* was one of the more professional ones—strong in theory, focused on the New Wave directors, and fairly balanced in its critiques of leftist films.
This year, they decided to establish an award, which they named: The Hong Kong Film Awards!
There were five main categories—Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Actor, and Best Actress—alongside ten awards for Chinese-language films and ten for foreign-language films, totaling 25 awards.
Of course, foreign films wouldn’t attend the ceremony, but Chinese-language films might.
At this moment, inside the editorial office, a group of editors was handwriting invitations.
*"The inaugural Hong Kong Film Awards will be held on March 9th at the Shouson Theatre in the Hong Kong Arts Centre... 'The Tai Chi Master' has been selected as one of the Ten Best Chinese-Language Films... You are cordially invited..."*
Deputy editor Chen Bosheng finished writing one and suddenly looked up.
"Should I send *The Tai Chi Master* invitation directly to Great Wall?"
"Sure, that Mr. Chen is back in Hong Kong—he’s at Great Wall right now."
"Do you think the leftists will attend?"
"You should be asking if *anyone* will attend the ceremony!"
Editor-in-chief Shu Kei sighed.
"We have no money, no influence. We’re just sending out invitations on our own. If people come, it’s out of goodwill. If they don’t, there’s nothing we can do. I’m just worried the venue will be empty—that’d be too embarrassing."
"Relax, we’ve interviewed so many filmmakers. We’ve got *some* face."
"At the very least, the winners should show up, right?"
"It’d be great if Michael Hui came!"
"Ha! With Michael Hui’s temper, he wouldn’t even glance at an award like this!"
They continued writing for a while before Shu Kei hesitated again.
"What if the leftists and rightists both come and start fighting?"
"We’ll communicate beforehand. In public, they’ll have to show some mutual respect. Besides, our awards aren’t partisan. Staying neutral is the only way the Hong Kong Film Awards can last."
"Easier said than done. I doubt the big stars and directors will play along! Take a leftist film, for example—if a Golden Harvest director used a pseudonym to make it and won, would he dare step on stage to accept the award? Of course not! Then what’s the point of the award?"
"..."
Silence fell over the room.
They had started the Hong Kong Film Awards out of sheer passion, but now that they were actually organizing it, the challenges were overwhelming.
"Whatever, let’s just focus on the task at hand. We’re forcing this through—no choice but to push forward!"
…………
The invitations were sent out to many studios and filmmakers.
*City Entertainment* had interviewed most of them.
The Hong Kong film industry operated on a code of honor—face and loyalty mattered, even if only superficially.
Even if some didn’t take the awards seriously, most would attend out of social obligation.
Except for people like Michael Hui.
When Michael Hui received the invitation, he had zero interest.
He immediately called his younger brother Ricky Hui and said, "I’m not going. You accept it for me."
"Wow! You won’t even go for Best Actor?"
Ricky Hui glanced at the letter, his face full of envy.
"Who knows what kind of backwater award this is? Why should I go? You go!"
"Fine, I’ll go. If I ever had a chance like this, I’d dress up in my best!"
Muttering to himself, Ricky tucked the invitation away.
The Hui brothers—Michael, Stanley, Ricky, and Samuel—were all talented.
Michael was a genius, aloof and proud, the first-generation King of Comedy.
Samuel was the original Cantopop god and a major film star.
The second brother, Ricky, mostly worked behind the scenes and stayed out of these things.
The third brother, Ricky Hui, wasn’t particularly handsome, but he had solid achievements—just overshadowed by his brothers’ brilliance.
…………
At a restaurant.
Sammo Hung was feasting with his crew when the topic came up.
His film *Encounter of the Spooky Kind* had been selected as one of the Ten Best Chinese-Language Films.
"Big Brother, are you going?"
"Of course. They’re giving me an award—why wouldn’t I go? Besides, they’ve interviewed me before. I owe them that much."
"Can you take us along?"
"It’s just some no-name award. What do you want to go for?"
"Even a no-name award is still an award! We just want to see the scene!"
"Fine, fine. We’ll all go!"
…………
In an office, Chen Qi studied an invitation in his hand.
The red letter, handwritten, stated that *The Tai Chi Master* had been selected as one of the Ten Best Chinese-Language Films and invited him to attend the ceremony.
"They’re just telling me I won? No suspense at all?" He found it bizarre.
"Same for us. Phoenix Films’ *Father and Son* won Best Director and Best Picture—they just told us outright and invited us."
Fu Qi said.
"This feels so slapdash. They should’ve at least had nominations—five candidates, winner announced live. Build up the tension, make it competitive. That’d be a real spectacle."
"It’s the first year. How polished can it be? They probably don’t have much funding either. That theater is tiny. But I read *City Entertainment* every issue—they’re very supportive of New Wave directors and fair in their critiques of leftist films. We’ve already decided to go. Are you coming?" Fu Qi asked.
"If you’re going, then so am I. Let’s bring Andy Lau, Liu Xuehua, and Ah Zhen too—make it a grand entrance."
"Sure!"
Fu Qi didn’t think much of it and dropped the subject.
But Chen Qi had already started scheming.
Everyone knew about the Hong Kong Film Awards—this was just the first year.
Early on, it had no money or influence, so no one took it seriously.
But it was Hong Kong’s only film award.
Over time, as it persisted, the industry would gradually recognize it.
In the early days, when *City Entertainment* was running it, the awards had a slight bias—they often honored leftist films because leftist art films were well-made.
By the early '90s, *City Entertainment* stepped back, and the Hong Kong Film Awards Association took over.
Sponsors poured in, its influence grew, and it became one of the highest honors in Chinese-language cinema.
But at the same time, it became increasingly "localized," fiercely exclusionary—especially as Hong Kong cinema declined and the mainland market rose.
It turned into an echo chamber.
Among the three major Chinese-language film awards, each was more of a flop than the last!
"I’m getting involved!"
Chen Qi quickly made up his mind.
Mainland awards were as difficult to navigate as the mainland film industry itself.
His current strategy was to save the industry through indirect means—stirring up waves in Hong Kong.
He needed control over an award like this.
As for obstacles?
"If I turn all of Hong Kong’s filmmakers into leftists, problem solved!"
…………
Tsui Hark also received an invitation.
His *All the Wrong Clues* had been named one of the Ten Best Chinese-Language Films.
"Never thought anyone in Hong Kong would dare to start an awards show. Succeed, and you’re a hero; fail, and you’re a joke."
"Hero or joke, someone had to take the first step. We’re going—are you?" Chen Qi asked.
"They’re giving me an award—of course I’ll go. Show some support."
"Great! Let’s go together!"
"I have my own crew. Why would I go with you?"
Tsui Hark ignored him.
At an awards ceremony, who you arrived with and who you associated with was a public statement of allegiance.
He was still a director at Cinema City—he couldn’t be seen cozying up to leftists.
Chen Qi didn’t press him.
Instead, he sought out Andy Lau and Tony Leung Ka-fai.
"You’re both wearing suits to this. This set will do—look sharp."
"I’ve never even heard of this award. Isn’t a suit too formal?"
"Exactly *because* others might not dress up, we should. It’ll show our class."
"Right, etiquette matters."
Tony Leung nodded, not refusing like Tsui Hark had.
He tacitly agreed to attend together.
Then Cherie Chung showed up, hesitant.
"Mr. Chen, *The Story of Woo Viet* was also invited. The studio wants Chow Yun-fat and me to go together."
"Sure, you’re part of their crew anyway."
"Oh, good."
For some reason, Cherie felt relieved.
She’d thought he’d try to recruit her.
But then it hit her—if he wasn’t trying to recruit her, why had he cast her in his film? He was definitely up to something.
And he was always scribbling in that notebook, staring at her while he wrote.
What was that about?
(That’s all for today.
Four chapters tomorrow to make up for it...)
(End of Chapter)