Yang Jie: Journey to a Director
Yang Jie, the renowned Chinese director of the 1986 TV adaptation of Journey to the West, passed away on April 15 at the age of 88. The death of Yang, whose work has influenced generations in China, triggered contagious nostalgia and stirred up a huge sensation.
Zhang Jinlai, who was known by his stage name Liu Xiao Ling Tong and portrayed the classic character Monkey King in the series, paid tribute to the director on his social media account: “Upon hearing the news of the respected director Yang’s passing, I am shrouded with shock and sorrow. It is a big loss for China’s television industry. We will always remember you and wish you a peaceful journey.”
Three decades ago, the TV series Journey to the West, based on one of China’s four great classical novels of the same name, directed by Yang and produced by China Central Television (CCTV), reached almost every small screen in China. The series became an overnight success after it premiered on CCTV and was later exported to countries such as Vietnam, Singapore, Japan and Cambodia. According to a survey from Hunantv.com, the show had an average viewer rating of 87.4 out of 100 in China in 1987. Now, it has been rebroadcast more than 3,000 times and reruns can be seen every year to this day. However, such overwhelming success never comes easy. With a tight budget and poor logistical support, Yang and her production team spent six years making the 25- episode series.
“Keeping the Essence”
Yang was born in 1929 in Macheng, Hubei Province. She became a newscaster in Qingdao, Shandong Province, before transferring to China National Radio in 1954. In 1958, she began working for CCTV. By 1981, her expertise in opera ultimately led to her being chosen to direct a big-scale TV adaptation of the classical novel Journey to the West.
Published in the late 16th Century, Journey to the West is a mythological Buddhist-themed adventure inspired by the legendary pilgrimage of Tang Dynasty (618-907) Buddhist monk Xuanzang. Accompanied by four disciples—monkey King Sun Wukong, pig monster Zhu Bajie, river monster Sha Wujing, and a dragon prince who transforms into a white horse the monk rides—xuanzang encounters numerous challenges while traveling through Central Asia to India to retrieve sacred Buddhist sutras. To many in the West, the novel became known as Monkey thanks to Arthur Waley’s 1942 abridged translation.
Interpreting a timeless classic was not an easy task. Before the series, the story had already been adapted into various media including film, traditional operas and even cartoons. Precisely because the novel is so widely and deeply adored by the Chinese public, satisfying a diverse range of viewers with a single TV production seemed like a monumental task.
Yang accepted the challenge and became determined to “keep the essence of the novel while cutting some darker and bleaker content,” as she revealed in her autobiography. She insisted that everything appear pleasing, including the villains, and that a genuine atmosphere of backbreaking travels be maintained. Yang incorporated her opera experience and the elegance of her performing arts foundation into a sublime treatment of old mythological literature.
Instead of following the original novel explicitly, Yang’s adaptation emphasized well-paced storytelling, character development and the adventure itself. “Many of my changes were bold, but I think they ultimately worked well together and made the series suitable for all age groups,” Yang said.
As Hard as the Journey
“Shooting Journey to the West has been as difficult as Xuanzang’s pilgrimage itself,” Yang lamented during production. The ambitious project was launched just as China had begun reform and opening up, and Yang’s team was chronically short of money.
Everyone in the production team received “incredibly low” salaries for their work. Even Yang and the two highest-paid actors, Liu Xiao Ling Tong as the Monkey King and Ma Dehua as Xuanzang’s disciple Zhu Bajie, each received less than US$12 per episode. Each episode took about three to four months to shoot.
Lack of money was the most consistent theme of the production. In 1986, even after several episodes were completed and had been aired, the team completely ran out of money. Just as people were suggesting Yang shoot a final episode and wrap up the project, her assistant supervisor managed to finally secure a three-million-yuan loan from the China Railway 11th Bureau Group, which financed the remaining episodes.
Along with the shortage of money came a shortage of hands. Yang not only served as both director and producer officially, but became deeply involved in budgeting, finance, scouting, writing, editing and casting. Since the production was always short of personnel, everyone in the cast, from stars to extras, carried production equipment to various locations and packed it up alongside the crew as well.
Working conditions were harsh. But the warrior remained committed to completing the project the best she could, shot by shot. The first challenge might have been the biggest: In the early 1980s, no one on the Chinese mainland knew anything about modern special effects techniques, even the most experienced professionals. “We had no idea how to make immortals and demons ‘fly’ in the sky,” recalled Yang. “We didn’t want to produce cheesy stuff that would make the audience laugh.”
So, before they started shooting, Yang and her husband Wang Chongqiu, the sole cinematographer of Journey to the West, went to Hong Kong to observe how kung fu dramas shot flying scenes with wire work. However, when they implemented the techniques they learned, the wires were too flimsy and often snapped, injuring several actors. The crew resorted to stacking card- board under the wires if the shot required more distance than they had pillows. If the shot was excessively long, plenty of hard ground remained exposed. And learning to fly was only the first struggle. Throughout the series, the team used only one camera, which broke down frequently and produced fuzzier footage than newer cameras. Every scene was shot individually with the same camera, which was the primary reason the 25-episode series took six years to make.
Re-embarking on the Journey
Seeking an authentic atmosphere and a variety of scenery for the journey outside studio sets, Yang and her team visited nearly 20 provinces in China and even Thailand. In the 1980s, some locations were hard to reach, dangerous to film in, or lacking modern amenities. The crew sometimes camped outdoors and stayed in poor conditions in undeveloped places. One place was reportedly so infested with rats that the crew took turns beating them away while others slept. Now, thanks to the enduring popularity of Journey to the West, most of these places are renowned tourist attractions.
Yang’s series combines adventure, comedy, stunts, breathtaking scenery, highly talented actors and creative special effects. The props, graphics and editing may seem primitive by today’s standards, but considering the working conditions back then, its completion and popularity remain impressive feats.
In 1988, Yang won Best Director at the Golden Eagle Awards, the China Television Artists Association’s equivalent to the Emmys, for her work on the adaptation. The same year, Journey to the West won the prize for Best Long Series at the 8th Flying Goddess Awards, which recognize excellent Chinese TV programs.
Yang’s relationship with Journey to the West didn’t end there. From 1998 to 1999, Yang filmed another 16 episodes covering previously missed portions of the original story. Considered “Season Two” of the original 1986 version, the 16 episodes were also tremendously popular upon their release in 2000.
Yang actually directed several TV series in the 1980s and 1990s, some of which were well-known in China, but she is still primarily remembered as the genius behind Journey to the West.
“People often express their love for Journey to the West to me, but every time I hear that kind of thing, I regret that I didn’t do it better,” Yang once said. “If you ask me why so many people love this TV adaptation, I think I know the answer: In those days, my whole crew and I were working for art, not for money, fame or personal benefits.”