FILM (1961)

The Greatest Civil War on Earth Leung Sing-po, Liu En-chia, Kitty Ting Hao, Christine Pai, Kelly Lai Chen Director: Wong Tin-lam

In the 1950s and 60s, when Hong Kong cinema was neatly divided into linguistically distinctive spheres (primarily Cantonese and Mandarin), this 1961 groundbreaking comedy struck a responsive chord by playing upon the lighter aspects of the colony's internal culture clash. The resultant laughter, along with critical and box office acclaim, helped start an early 60s mini-trend in bi-dialect farces.

Though the Chinese title refers to 'peace between North and South', the main protagonists are two antagonistic tailors waging civil war in their abutting residential and business establishments.

Cantonese-speaking Cheung Sam-po (Leung Sing-po) and Mandarin-speaking Lee Sze-pao (Liu En-chia), are middle-agers rife with misunderstandings towards other Chinese not of their own home regions and harbour prejudices that have been jettisoned by the younger, assimilated generation raised if not necessarily born in the colony. Thus, Lee's air hostess daughter Tsui-hua (Kitty Ting Hao, right) falls in love with Cantonese colleague Mak Wing-fai (Cheung Ching); while Cheung's daughter Lai-chen (Christine Pai Lu-ming) falls for non-native Hongkonger Wang Wen-an (Kelly Lai Chen).

Harmony predictably prevails, and if the message sounds almost tailor-made for 21st-century political correctness, the movie is saved from didactic dryness by the wit of producer Stephen Soong Chi's script and the swift pace supplied by director Wong Tin-lam. Though the situations are rather broad, and often broadly played, they have a firm enough mooring in contemporary realities to elevate the humour above the level of typical sitcom.

The middle-class aspirations of much of the film's target audience were mirrored in those of the sartorial rivals and epitomised by their alternate possession of the same coveted status symbol - a $4,000 refrigerator. Unlike many comedies about curmudgeonly dads, these guys actually worked, and struggled, to make a go of modest enterprises with names reflective of the duo's divisive ethnic pride: Beita ('Great North') and Nam Fat ('Prosperous South').