Book review: Animation in China: History,Aesthetics,Media

Sean Macdonald’s Animation in China is the first in-depth academic book in English that examines Chinese animation, thus marking an important milestone in English language scholarship on the topic. Chinese animation played a vital role in the history of world animation but this role has been trivialized or forgotten. Despite the recent surge in studies on Japanese and Western animations since the late 1980s, there has been little research in English on Chinese animation. Weihua Wu’s (2006) PhD dissertation, which discusses contemporary Chinese animation in the digital age since the 1980s, is the earliest systematic study of Chinese animation in English scholarship. ¹ Focusing on earlier history, my own PhD dissertation analyzes Chinese animation and its active engagement with international forces during its formative period, between the 1940s and 1970s (Du, 2012, 2016b). ² In addition to these two lengthy studies of Chinese animation, Marie-Claire Quiquemelle (1991), Mary Ann Farquhar (1993), Paola Voci (2010, 2015), John Lent and Ying Xu (2001, 2003), Weihong Bao (2015), Stephanie Donald (2005), Jian Cui (2006), Helen Kang (2006), and others have published academic articles and/or book chapters about Chinese animation. In 2014, Rolf Giesen published a book entitled Chinese Animation: A History and Filmography 1922–2012, which is the first book in English on Chinese animation. Although it is a popular rather than a scholarly work, it is still an important stage in studies of Chinese animation. It is within this context that Sean Macdonald’s Animation in China emerges as the first scholarly book on Chinese animation.

Macdonald’s Animation in China mainly revolves around the classical animated films produced by the Shanghai Animation Film Studio between the 1950s and 1980s. The Shanghai Animation Film Studio, which was officially founded in 1957, was the only state-owned animation studio in socialist China (1949–1976). Many masterpieces in the history of Chinese animation were produced by this studio during this time period. Macdonald does not examine Chinese animation in isolation; rather, he positions it in a multi-media network with literature, fine arts, popular culture, and film, while at the same time firmly locating his analyses in larger socio-historical and political contexts. The major theoretical framework of this book centers on the concept of postmodernism, which is usually believed to have emerged in post-socialist (or capitalist) China since the opening up and reform policy in 1978. Macdonald revises our conventional understandings of postmodernism and argues that earlier revolutionary culture (animation in particular) in socialist China was also characterized by elements of postmodernism, which is defined as the tension between the past and the present. He interprets the history of Chinese animation as a form of ‘postmodernism with Chinese characteristics’ (pp. 1–14).

The book has altogether six chapters, not including the Introduction. Chapter 1 ‘It all started with a monkey’, is a detailed analysis of Danao tiangong (Uproar in Heaven, 1961–1964), probably one of the most well-known animated feature films in China. Macdonald begins his book with this film because it features the legendary Monkey King, a figure that stands for Chinese animation, just as Mickey Mouse does for Disney. The most interesting part of this chapter is the discussion of the changing relations between Monkey King and Chairman Mao. Monkey King was often used as an icon for the revolutionary masses, and he even stood for Chairman Mao himself during the socialist decades. However, later Monkey King was interpreted as a rebel against Mao, represented by Jade Emperor, who happens to have a mole on his chin like Mao in the animated film. The heaven in which Monkey makes havoc is then turned into an allegory for Tiananmen Square (pp. 44–45). When the first episode of Uproar in Heaven was released in 1961, it was celebrated as a ‘national style’ film representing authentic traditional Chinese culture. When its second episode was completed in 1964, it was banned due to its implied criticism of Mao. Macdonald’s interpretation of Monkey King’s metamorphosis is also interesting. In the film, Monkey King plucks hairs from his body and the hairs are then transformed into several copies of himself. Macdonald interprets the scenario as self-referentiality in relation to animation because animation is about the multiple drawings of the same image with slight variations (p. 39).

In Chapter 2 ‘Cartoons and Chinese studies’, Macdonald expands his discussion of Chinese animation by positioning it in the larger discourse of area studies and Chinese studies. His delineation of the field, such as the transition from European sinology to American area studies during World War II and the rise of Chinese cinema studies in the 1980s, is very thorough and comprehensive, but the real gem of this chapter is his analysis of the prop plane sound effect in wartime Disney and Chinese animation. The use of the same sound effect might just be a coincidence because there is no evidence to prove that Chinese animators borrowed this kind of sound effect directly from Disney. It is most likely that the war left its aural traces in both American and Chinese animations (p. 74). In the diffusionist mode of cultural transmission, culture usually travels from the center to influence the periphery. It is very easy for people to assume that Disney must have influenced Chinese animation. Macdonald challenges this uni-directional influence paradigm by demonstrating the coeval relationship of the sound effects between Chinese and Disney animations in the early 1940s.

Chapter 3 ‘Meishu pian as national style’ is a critical investigation of the national style in the history of Chinese animation. The national style is a term that refers to the use of traditional Chinese literature, culture, and art forms (such as folklore, legend, Peking opera, ink-painting, paper-cutting, and paper-folding) in animated filmmaking to mark a unique national and ethnic identity in Chinese animated films. In mainstream narratives, the rise of the national style in China was triggered by an international film festival in 1956. In 1956, a Chinese animated short entitled Wuya weishenmo shi hei de (Why Is the Crow Black-Coated, 1955) won an award at the Venice International Children’s Film Festival. It was the first time that a Chinese animated film had won an international award. Chinese animators’ joy and pride came to an end when they heard a rumor that the international juries in Venice originally regarded it as a Soviet film. This rumor seemed to be well grounded considering the powerful influence of the Soviet style on Chinese film in the 1950s. Feeling extremely frustrated, Chinese animators realized the importance of constructing a national identity in their animated films, and began to develop the so-called ‘national style’ of Chinese animation. Therefore they produced Jiaoao de jiangjun (The Conceited General, 1956), which was commonly regarded as the first animated film that was purposefully made with the guiding principle of this ‘national style’ (Du, 2016a). Macdonald mines the database at the Historical Archive of the Foundation for the Venice Biennale and discovers that although the film Why Is the Crow Black-Coated was shown at the 1956 Venice festival, it did not win an award. The Chinese animated film that did win an award there was Shenbi (The Magic Brush, 1955). This new finding is truly ground-breaking because it radically rewrites the mainstream narratives of the rise of the national style in the late 1950s. Macdonald’s critical reading of the national style in the film The Conceited General is also innovative. He observes that the national style was ironically used to portray the negative characters in this film, such as the conceited general and his sycophantic lackey, whose faces are depicted in line with the Peking opera types of facial makeup. If the national style is used to represent a positive Chinese identity, why is it used on these negative and laughable characters? When the conceited general tries to flee, his head is caught by his enemies’ spears that form the shape of an ‘x’, which is read by Macdonald as a symbol of prohibition, or a symbol of self-negation of the national style (p. 92).

The next chapter ‘A discussion and a princess’ is a detailed study of a puppet animated film entitled Kongque gongzhu (Peacock Princess, 1963). Macdonald reads this puppet film in relation to Uproar in Heaven and pays meticulous attention to the medium specificity of puppet animation. Most scholarship on Chinese animation focuses on cel animation and neglects puppet and other stop-motion animations. It is necessary and important to highlight puppet animation in this chapter. The most interesting argument here is that puppet animation, with its restrained movement, could function as a kind of limited animation to save time, labor, and cost. If cel animation like Uproar in Heaven represents full animation in China, puppet animation, as well as paper-cutting and paper-folding animations, are prime examples of limited animation in China (p. 107).

Chapter 5 ‘Nezha naohao (Nezha Conquers the Dragon King): Scar animation and an ending’, moves to Chinese animation in the late 1970s, with a particular focus on Nezha naohai (Nezha Conquers the Dragon King, 1979), the first animated feature film produced by the Shanghai Animation Film Studio right after the end of the tumultuous Cultural Revolution (1966–1976). Macdonald reads this film as a key film of the transitional period from the Cultural Revolution to the Reform and Opening-up era. He uses the term ‘scar animation’ to refer to this animated film, which is borrowed from ‘scar literature’, and refers to a genre of Chinese literature that emerged in the late 1970s portraying in retrospect people’s sufferings during the Cultural Revolution (p. 136). A popular reading of this animated film is that the four dragons in the story allude to the Gang of Four led by Chairman Mao’s wife Jiang Qing, who were regarded as the major perpetrators of the Cultural Revolution. Macdonald’s analysis of this film moves beyond this political interpretation by foregrounding the complexity of suicide and patricide whilst also highlighting the aesthetics of still images used prominently in this film.

Chapter 6 ‘Industry and animation’ surveys more contemporary animation and discusses TV animation, independent animation, online flash animation, and the flourishing dongman (animation and cartoon) industry in contemporary China. An interesting concept proposed in this chapter is ‘noir animation’ and the ‘heaviness’ of animation (pp. 202–203). Animation is often associated with humor, fantasy, exaggeration, and happy endings, but some contemporary independent Chinese animated films, such as Liu Jian’s Piercing 1 (2010), is full of darkness, tragedy, and social satire, demonstrating the diversification of both form and content in a post-socialist animation industry since the 1980s.

As the first scholarly book in the English language on Chinese animation, Animation in China is a milestone achievement in studies of Chinese animation. It locates the analysis of individual animated films within larger socio-historical trends and theoretical frameworks. Adopting an interdisciplinary approach and targeting a wide range of audiences, it will appeal to students and scholars in the fields of Chinese film studies, China studies, animation studies, and cultural studies. This pioneering book will undoubtedly contribute significantly to the emerging new field on Chinese animation.