LI YANG

Li Yang was born in Xian in China in 1959. He came from a family of actors and grew up in a theatre complex. After leaving high school, he went to work as an actor at the China Youth Arts Theatre in Beijing from 1978 to 1985. Li then studied film directing at the Beijing Broadcasting Institute from 1985 to 1987. He left China to study German literature, from 1988 to 1990, at the Free University of Berlin, and Dramatic Theory, at Ludwig-Maxmillian University of Munich from 1990 to 1992Ðhe also worked as an actor during this time.

 

EXCERPT FROM AN INTERVIEW WITH
DIRECTOR LI YANG

BY SOUTH CHINA MORNING POST. HONG KONG, (1/18/2003).

At least 10,000 people die each year in China's illegal mines. Now a film is shedding light on the labourers who risk everything to scrape a living in the dark

"China has a shortage of everything but people," the boss of an illegal coal mine quips in a new underground film exposing the grim lives of the mainland's migrant miners. Millions of uneducated labourers roam the country looking for work. For mine owners, the migrants are an expendable resource. Many risk death in illegal mines for a monthly wage of 1,000 yuan (HK$940), several times the average monthly income of farm workers.

Those real conditions mean living in cramped dormitories, with workers often housed in crude huts or tents. In arid northern China, miners sometimes go for weeks without washing, Li says. Anyone fit enough for hard labour, including escaped criminals, can find work in illegal mines Ð if they can find them. Mine owners often hire local thugs to guard tracks leading to the mines and local police and officials accept money to turn a blind eye or even offer additional protection. Extortion and robbery are common. "This problem hasn't just appeared in the past few years," Li says. "It's been around for a long time."

Most of the filming took place 700 metres underground on the border between Hebei and Shaanxi provinces. Li is unwilling to be more precise about the location, to protect those who helped him gain access. He and his team were well aware of the dangers. One shaft collapsed two days after they left, without finishing filming. They simply moved on to the next mine, just like the casual labourers who make a living from hacking out the coal. Locals often refuse to work underground, preferring the safety of jobs as security guards or surface workers. Li went underground about 20 times last year, clocking up about 80 hours in dark shafts. He spent 50 hours filming underground, with one stint lasting 20 hours.

State media has also reported cases of murder, greed and corruption in the illegal mining industry, including one case in which miners were killed by locals who then faked an explosion in a bid to claim compensation. Relatives are often prevented from seeing the bodies of victims. Mine owners dispose of the corpses without informing local authorities, fearing closure of their illegal operations.

The government has launched several crackdowns on illegal mining in recent years. It says safety inspectors close tens of thousands of small mines annually, but many re-open after the inspectors and police have left. Beijing Review magazine recently reported: "Mine safety supervisors at different levels are mainly from coal mines with a poor awareness of the law, which causes laxity in law enforcement, errors in procedures and unsatisfactory punishment."

Where the closure succeed, competition for jobs in the remaining mines grows fiercer, Li believes the publication of Liu's story (on which Li's film was based) two years ago, plus recent media exposure of the industry, makes the topic of illegal mining less controversial. The film is not opposing China, Chinese society or the government, he says. "I'm sure Western audiences won't think everyone in China is like that. But I couldn't make it according to their rules," he says, mainly because he wanted to save time and money.

Bill Jones, South China Morning Post