Chapter Thirty-Seven: The First Adult Film

Category III films, in the eyes of many, are often automatically associated with explicit content. Yet, such films are just one type within the broad spectrum of Category III, whose definition encompasses much more: scenes of bloodshed and violence, excessively frightening content, storylines that provoke moral controversy, and other themes deemed potentially harmful to minors under the age of eighteen. All fall under the umbrella of Category III.

For instance, when “The Cage People” and “Happy Together” were released, they were rated Category III for excessive profanity and homosexual themes, respectively. Despite the diversity and richness of Hong Kong’s Category III films, the primary reason for the censors’ restriction—“approved only for viewers eighteen and above”—usually stems from an abundance of nudity and the resulting surge of sensationalism, which is why many conflate Category III films with erotic movies.

However, Hong Kong’s censorship standards have always existed in a state of ambiguity, lacking a unified and precise set of guidelines. On the one hand, it could be considered lenient, as some films with explicit sex scenes have managed to pass through the censors. On the other hand, there are strict prohibitions on certain subject matters. Yet, this hasn’t prevented mainstream Hong Kong cinema from reveling in risqué humor: every installment of the “Lucky Stars” series features a group of men playfully and mischievously flirting with beautiful women, much to the audience’s delight. Even Mainland China’s grand, patriotic war epic “The Decisive Battle” was classified as Category III due to its intense battle scenes.

Yan Xu remembered that when he was in primary school, the entire school had organized a viewing of this very film. The thought of so many ten-year-olds collectively watching a Category III film now seemed almost comical in retrospect.

Ordinary Hong Kong audiences have long been tolerant of elements such as sex, violence, horror, and profanity in films. As a result, Category III films have continued to push boundaries, breaking taboos with increasing boldness. Sexuality intertwines with violence, profanity mingles with humor, horror exists alongside temptation—Hong Kong’s Category III productions are adept at blending genres and stacking up sensationalist elements to provoke the audience’s senses to the utmost.

“Many companies are now postponing their releases. Some films, even those about to premiere, are hastily re-editing, cutting out scenes of violence and nudity. With Christmas approaching—a time for family gatherings—most companies are striving to get their films rated Category I. With each more restrictive rating, a segment of the audience is lost. The new regulations have left many companies uncertain; they don’t know how being rated Category IIB or III will affect their films,” Bald Qiang said with uncertainty about the film’s rating. If the film were rated Category III, meaning only those over eighteen could watch it, children would be excluded. Even just losing viewers among students and young people just entering society could deal a significant blow to box office returns. And with the holiday season upon them, many families would be watching movies together; if there were children, they would never choose a Category III film.

“Should we postpone the release a bit, wait and see, maybe until after the Lunar New Year? Or perhaps trim some of the gory scenes to try to secure a Category II rating?” Bald Qiang suggested.

“No, we can’t cut it,” Yan Xu replied, “If we did, all the money we spent hiring top special effects makeup artists would be wasted. Besides, apart from the gripping, novel plot, this film relies on sensory stimulation.”

“And we can’t delay the release, either. We must send the film to the censors as soon as possible to get the rating and schedule the premiere. Our film is different from the rest; from the start, we’ve been generating buzz and stirring up public excitement. That will definitely attract viewers. If we push back now, all that effort will go to waste. Instead of gaining more viewers, we might even lose the enthusiasm of those who were already interested.”

“Furthermore, the reason I want to get the rating quickly is that our film will undoubtedly be rated Category III. We dare to do what other companies won’t, and we want to be the first—the first Category III film. That’s a huge draw, even a milestone in Hong Kong cinema. If we use that in our publicity, it will surely grab attention,” Yan Xu said, growing excited.

He understood well the future trajectory of Category III films: for a long time, they would flourish. He recalled how “Black Sun: 731” had raked in over ten million at the box office purely on the strength of being the first Category III film. It was a documentary-style movie, and many of its scenes were beyond what ordinary viewers could stomach. This was also one of director Mou Tun-fei’s rare blockbusters, and Yan Xu remained deeply impressed by his only theatrically released film, “Love Massacre.”

“Alright, then. How soon can you finish post-production?” Bald Qiang nodded, asking.

“Very soon. The sound effects are nearly done. I’ll press Ting Ge to work overtime tonight, and he should have it ready. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

“I’ll send it to the censors right away and arrange the release. The Christmas slot is tight—Art Joy, Yung Wai-chuen, Cinema City, D&B, and Shaw Brothers all have new films coming out. Our film, ‘The Lamb Doctor,’ is about to finish its run, freeing up nine theaters. I’ll contact a few more, and we should be able to get a total of fifteen this time.”

Bald Qiang was full of confidence. Ever since he took over, every film the company released had turned a profit, earning them a solid reputation in the industry—especially with “Butcher at Night” and “The Lamb Doctor.” The former grossed fifteen million, and the latter, still in theaters, had already surpassed seven million. Although daily box office takes were declining, with a few days left, breaking the eight-million mark was almost guaranteed. These two small productions had been runaway successes, boosting cinema owners’ confidence in films produced by Hundred Battles. While theaters weren’t quite ready to treat them like the major studios, the former arrogance was gone, and even the revenue split could be negotiated more favorably.

Securing fifteen theaters this time would be a remarkable achievement. After all, there were just over a hundred cinemas in all of Hong Kong, half of which belonged to the three major circuits: Shaw, Cinema City’s Golden Princess, and Golden Harvest. Of the remaining theaters, some specialized in foreign films, others were arthouse venues, and only about fifty or sixty were left. Given that some were consistently partnered with the major studios, and excluding another seven or eight, the rest were fiercely contested by all the film companies. Securing fifteen meant clinching nearly a third of the available theaters.