Ten years ago, Occupy Central saw protestors throng the streets of Hong Kong for 10 weeks in opposition to electoral reforms that would give Beijing the right to pre-screen candidates for the office of Chief Executive of Hong Kong. Protest encampments sprang up in Admiralty and Causeway Bay on Hong Kong Island and in Mongkok across the harbour, supported by an organic network of volunteers, donors and students. The resulting tent cities remained until December 2014 when the police cleared them.
In December 2015, a year after the Occupy protests ended, Ten Years was released. An omnibus film, its segments hypothesise dystopian futures for Hong Kong. Originally conceived by Ng Ka-leung in early 2014, the film was inspired by the 2012 protests against National Education that had served as a blueprint for Occupy Central.
Ten Years premiered at the Hong Kong Asian Film Festival and was originally shown on only one screen at the Broadway Cinematheque in Yau Ma Tei. A surprise hit, it was picked up by more cinemas, although briefly, even as it outperformed the latest Star Wars franchise entry. While demand remained high, fewer and fewer outlets were willing to show the film, which Chinese state media Global Times called “a virus of the mind”. On 1 April 2016, Ten Years was screened free at more than 30 public venues across Hong Kong, including Sha Tin Town Hall.
Ten Years won Best Film at the 35th Hong Kong Film Awards in 2016. The accolade more likely awarded for the film’s aim than its content, or perhaps was due to the unsubtle demand the Awards had received to ignore it. Although Ten Years may not have been a cinematic triumph in the conventional sense, it inarguably foretold a startling number of Hong Kong’s present-day realities.
Extras
In “Extras”, the film’s first segment, two patsies are set up by China’s Hong Kong Liaison Office to stage an assassination of political leaders as a way to increase public support for the National Security Law. A decade later, the National Security Law has been in effect since 2020, and the Liaison Office has lost much of its prominence in the new Hong Kong that is run by “patriots only” and is home to the new Office for Safeguarding National Security.
The bumbling assassination attempt in the segment may remind people of the 2019 attack on politician Junius Ho – known for his outspoken pro-Beijing stance – which left him with a 2cm wound and saw his attacker sent to prison for nearly a decade.
That same year, tour guide Tony Hung Chun attacked a newspaper reporter and two others with a meat cleaver at a Lennon Wall. The wall, in Tseung Kwan O, was a prominent symbol during the 2019 pro-democracy protests where people could post messages expressing political views or calls for change, typically using sticky notes, posters or graffiti. One of the victims was left in a critical condition and admitted to the intensive care unit of Queen Elizabeth Hospital. The judge in Hung’s case sentenced him to less than four years, calling him “an involuntary sacrifice and a bloodstained victim hanging by his last breath” saying the protestors had “ruthlessly trampled on his right to work, live and survive”.
Season of the End
“Season of the End” is a story of people trying to preserve homes that are being demolished and, in the process, making ever-increasing sacrifices. While the segment is in many ways intentionally abstract, it is nevertheless not hard to see the premise reflected in the actions of many Hong Kongers both at home and abroad. The city has undergone seismic changes since 2019 and the Covid epidemic, with many lamenting the loss or destruction of so many things that made Hong Kong the unique and special place it is. The sacrifices made by those people, whether geographic or political, echo this segment of the film.
Self-immolator
“Self-immolator” shows Hong Kong in the midst of violent political protests driven by fears that China would not honor the Joint Declaration which would leave Hong Kong unchanged by central government policies until 2047. Demonstrations at the British Consulate, an attack on the Liaison Office and the condemnation of Hong Kong independence feature in a story filmed years before 2019. Even the titular act has an unfortunate parallel. In November of 2019, a man was set alight during an altercation at a protest in Ma On Shan.
Dialect
A Hong Kong taxi driver struggles with new regulations mandating the speaking of Mandarin in Hong Kong, where Cantonese has been the predominant language for centuries. His problems increase when his wife pressures him to stop speaking Cantonese to their son, who needs to pass the national Mandarin proficiency exam. The implementation of the “national language” in Hong Kong has been going on for some time, although it has yet to reach the level shown in “Dialect”. Educational concerns like these, however, are currently very prominent.
Local Egg
In Ten Years’ last segment, “Local Egg”, Liu Kai-chi plays a grocer struggling at work as well as at home. His insistence on using a term that has been outlawed brings him unwanted attention from a quasi-government group that recalls the Red Guards of the Cultural Revolution. His son is a reluctant member of the group, and the father worries about the indoctrination his son is subjected to.
Since the enacting of the National Security Law, Hong Kong’s education system has come under increasing and expanding pressure. National Education is now part of the curriculum, and national security is now taught to students as young as eight. Special needs schools are not exempt from teaching the subject. Liberal Studies, which was blamed for encouraging protests, was removed from the curriculum in 2023. Students are not only required to sing China’s national anthem, but can face repercussions if they don’t sing it with enough fervour. These are just a few reasons why many families have left Hong Kong in an effort to prevent the indoctrination of their children.
Ten Years is a film that undoubtedly falls under the new – and retrospective – censorship law; it cannot legally be seen in Hong Kong. Its greatest significance was, at the time of its release, its very existence. It was a bold political statement if not a significant artistic achievement. Now, a decade on, we cannot deny that the film foretold many events that have come to pass.
From the Vault offers critiques, reviews and highlights of Hong Kong celluloid favourites, from the fascinating to the flawed to the flamboyant.
