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HK Magazine

When I was in form two, I wrote: “When I grow up, I want to be a screenwriter.”
The teacher sent it back to me and told me to be more realistic. I said: “This isn’t stealing, or robbing people. How is it not realistic?”
So I wrote that I wanted to be the person in the cinema who takes people to their seats— so I could watch new movies for free.
If I like a film, I’ll watch it 20 times. I’ll come home, watch a film, eat, then watch it again.
The first film I watched was “All About Ah-Long” [1989] during a school trip to the cinema. I started crying, and had to hide it from the girls in my class.
I realized that sad films were really good. I felt great after crying.
Then I came into contact with [legendary comedian] Michael Hui’s films. I would still be laughing after the film was over.
The only films I don’t like, to this day, are horror films. I find them so boring. They’re the only films that can’t touch my emotions.
My classmates started calling me “Fei Zai Chung.” I feel all my hairs standing on end when people don’t call me that.
Producers couldn’t be bothered to change my name. They thought, “Well, it’s not like you can lose the weight.” So the name stuck.
I really want to do a film that requires me to lose weight. I’m talking with a screenwriter now.
In the past few months, I’ve lost 14 pounds. There was a public holiday, and I thought I would give my diet a break too, so I ate. The next day, I went on the scales and… [sighs]
The point is, I put so much effort into dieting, and then it went to waste after only a day.
Comedies are tragedies. Everything the lead character does, everyone else is laughing at him. In real life, if you are that lead character, then it’s pretty tragic.
I got involved with the Hong Kong Asia Film Financing Forum by chance. A scriptwriter last year successfully made a film thanks to the HAF. He introduced people to me.
It’s an open platform. Whoever is good at convincing people gets the chance to make a film.
The biggest challenge as a young director is not having a ring to fight in. Hong Kong’s film market has changed, especially after it became closer with the Mainland. It has become very protective of the fighters who are retired, who will participate only to flex their muscles. But there is no room for younger fighters to showcase their talents.
When I first got involved in the film industry, the emphasis was on the creative side of filmmaking. It’s not like that anymore. All there is to think about is how the poster looks.
My favorite person to work with is definitely Stephen Chow. The story behind how we met is kind of lame, like what they say in weddings and stuff—we were introduced by friends.
We fight all the time on set. But it’s how we have that spark. If everyone on set agrees with each other, that’s not a good thing.
Normally, people demand stuff until they get to a point, where they stop. Stephen Chow does not have this. He’ll ask, “Can you do this?” Once you get there, he’ll say, “Oh, can you do more?”
This is a huge challenge. But every day, you’re looking for new targets to reach. The thing actors fear the most is boredom.
Hong Kong’s drive to survive is so much weaker than it was. From the end of the 80s onwards, Hong Kong hasn’t really had major hardships. We fell apart after SARS. In the past 10 years or so, people have had no drive to remain competitive.
The only thing we can do now is to accept it and lower our standards. Sometimes I see these so-called up-and-comers in the industry and think to myself: “I’m so glad I’ll get to keep being an actor.”
I wouldn’t leave Hong Kong. Look how weak everyone has become: this is our chance to move up!
I would like to play a eunuch. They were forced to do it and must have been somewhat imbalanced emotionally. Eunuchs have needs too—but they can’t let it out. I see a lot of people play them in one way, but they can’t reflect that suppressed nature.
The most important lessons I’ve learned from are my failures. After I fail, I’m armed with experience and I become better for it. For the past 10 years, I haven’t been afraid of making mistakes—I’m only afraid that I’ll hit the same wall twice.


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Lam Chi-chung

Magazines

Actor Lam Chi-chung is known as Fei Zai Chung, or “Fat Boy Chung.” One of Stephen Chow’s frequent collaborators, he has appeared in hits including “Shaolin Soccer” and “Kung Fu Hustle.” He’s also ventured into directing through the Hong Kong Asia Film Financing Forum (HAF), a platform which grants funding to filmmakers. He tells Andrea Lo why he prefers to be known by his nickname, how young filmmakers can survive in the industry, and why he thinks Hongkongers are weaker than they once were.
