Before Tai-Lee Chan began directing his own films, he spent years shaping the narrative backbone of some of Hong Kong’s most successful modern action cinema.
As a writer on several entries in the Ip Man franchise, Chan helped craft the emotional and dramatic beats behind what became one of the most influential kung fu series of the past 20 years. Filmmaking had always been his intended path after studying the craft, yet it took time for him to step behind the camera.
When he visited Dubai for the Hong Kong Film Festival at Cinema Akil this month, where he screened his third feature Fight For Tomorrow, Chan reflected on the long road from writer to director and the creative freedom he finally felt he had earned.
At the screening, he says he was taken aback by the quality of questions posed by audience members, many of whom were filmmakers themselves.
“They asked about everything – equipment, action staging, my process,” he says. “Some of them even sent me their work afterwards. We exchanged ideas across cultures. That was very special.”
A writer who always wanted to direct
Chan’s career didn't begin behind a camera but at a desk. Despite studying directing in film school, he spent two decades writing screenplays, most of them action films. The choice was strategic. To direct well, he felt he first needed to understand drama at its core.
“Screenwriting is the most direct way to learn how to build drama,” he says. “As a writer, your responsibility is to serve the director. You need to understand how they think and use your skills to support their vision, while giving your own insights.”
Only after years of writing did Chan take the leap into directing. The transition, he says, was less difficult than it may sound, partly because his films are typically low-budget productions requiring airtight preparation.
“When I write the screenplay, I am already directing the film with my pen,” he explains. “By the time we shoot, most of the work is communicating with departments. Because I’m both writer and director, I rarely change the script on set. The script becomes the bridge for the whole production.”
What makes Hong Kong action unique
Chan lights up when discussing the cultural lineage of Hong Kong action cinema. Its foundation, he says, lies in traditional Chinese opera, where performers trained in acrobatics and physical storytelling long before the age of film.
“Many early action performers came from Chinese opera. They already had that DNA in their blood,” he says.
Then came the “golden era” of the 1980s and 1990s, when stars such as Jackie Chan and Donnie Yen elevated stuntwork to new levels of physical daring.
“They were doing real kung fu and risking their lives,” he says. “They jumped from high places and did dangerous stunt moves to deliver the best visual experience.”
This authenticity, he believes, remains Hong Kong’s distinguishing trait. While international blockbusters rely heavily on CGI and wirework, Hong Kong cinema uses such tropes sparingly, keeping them as “assistant tools” rather than the centrepiece.
“In other countries, actors may not have 10 years of kung fu training behind them, so they rely on wires or CGI for the main effect,” he says. “In Hong Kong, we fight for real.”
Changing landscape of Hong Kong cinema
Chan says there are major differences between Hong Kong filmmakers during its golden age and now. Historically, many filmmakers learnt their craft on set, a grass roots training ground that produced fast, energetic, audience-focused films that resonated internationally.
Today, he says, most directors come from film schools. This shift has broadened Hong Kong cinema’s thematic range, but also changed its priorities.
“Filmmakers now think more about society or humanity. There are more genres and more intellectual themes,” Chan says. “But we also have less financial support. Many films are now low-budget, so we can’t always target the general public. We aim for niche audiences instead.”
He estimates that many independent productions operate with budgets that are a fraction of what was available in previous decades.
Hong Kong films famously gained global recognition through English-dubbed releases, a practice Chan sees as practical rather than artistically harmful.
“Dubbing is unavoidable,” he says. “Some countries prefer to hear their own language to understand directly.”
Still, he personally prefers original versions, valuing the actor’s authentic tone, rhythm and emotional nuance. “If I have the choice, I listen to the original,” he says. “It shows how rich the content really is.”
Lessons from influential collaborators
Chan credits three people as having a major influence on his filmmaking. The first is Wilson Yip, director of the Ip Man series.
“Wilson understands screenplay deeply. He knows how to shape relationships and raise emotional tension. I learnt a lot from how he pushes drama to its best point.”
The second is Yen, whom he describes as far more than an actor or martial artist.
“Donnie is a director at heart. His standards for scene design are very high. He always wants something new, something different. His taste is very international, and he encourages everyone to think about how audiences worldwide will see a scene.”
The final one is famed action choreographer Yuen Woo-ping, known for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and The Matrix.
“From Master Yuen, I learnt the spirit of focusing on one craft. His dedication to classic kung fu is something I really respect.”
