Surviving in Cashless China: An Update

It doesn’t look like I am going to China in 2026, so I am unable to fully update my popular article series on Surviving in Cashless China. But I do want to offer one note of warning, which is that WeChat (Weixin) is becoming increasingly different for foreigners to use.

I just tried to move my apps onto a new iPhone, only to discover that WeChat now has a ridiculously intricate system of verification and validation, that makes it nigh-on impossible to retrieve a forgotten password, and just as hard to set up a new account. I’ll leave it to this article at China Talk to explain the ins and outs of it, but the bottom line for me is that even though I managed to get back into my WeChat account for a whole minute, when I tried to change my Settings, it decided that, too, was “suspicious” and locked me out again, brightly advising me to rustle up three more friends with WeChat of their own, who didn’t mind being unpaid admin supports, to vouch for me.

One of them duly sent me the passcode they were asked to, only to receive a reply from WeChat that my account was no longer in use, even though I had wasted a busy hour trying to use it!

Another commented: “Once you have fully set WeChat up (again), make sure that you use it semi-regularly when not in China, i.e. – post the occasional photo on moments, chat with friends, or use related apps. WeChat accounts that are left inactive for long periods often suffer what is known as ‘digital death’ where the account is deactivated and the user can no longer login, but their friends still see that user in their contacts list, thereby causing much confusion. This has happened to many contacts of mine who left China during the pandemic and ceased using WeChat, then found they could no longer access their accounts months later when wanting to catch-up with friends.”

I will, at some future point, attempt once more to get back into the account that WeChat is telling my friends I am not using. In the meantime, I need to deal with the prospect that travel in south China, in particular, is going to be significantly harder for me when I can’t use the most popular payment app there. AliPay still works just fine, but not everybody takes AliPay.

I hope very much to update this article sometime with news that WeChat has stopped being an impossible torment. For those of you planning to go to China in 2026, be advised, as per the China Talk article, that setting up WeChat, with all its whistles and bells and grace periods, can take days, and requires access to a bunch of people who already have WeChat and don’t mind behaving “suspiciously” by vouching for you. So if you want to set it up on your phone, do so a good month before you travel.

A Song You Can’t Sing

Something I stumbled on while researching a script for Eureka’s Zen and Sword extras: a meeting between the historical novelist Eiji Yoshikawa, and Tomu Uchida, the director who was adapting his Musashi novels for the screen.

Last year [c.1962 – JC], I visited Eiji Yoshikawa at his villa in Karuizawa to ask his opinion on the second part of Miyamoto Musashi for my film adaptations. He was in the middle of writing the final part of the Ashikaga chapter of his Private Taiheki…. I had heard that he was in poor health, so I intended to limit my talk to the main issues, but he suddenly held out his hand.

“As the days of the Ashikaga come to an end,” he said bitterly, “I feel as though my family will die, and my hand will rot as it holds the writing brush. You can sing the story of the tragic end of the Heike clan at Yashima and Dannoura, but I don’t like the stories of the Ashikaga clan. It’s a path of power and famine. There are no people there.”

He spoke in a low voice but with a strong tone, and looked at us with sharp eyes, as if to express a writer’s anger towards the rotten history of humanity…. It was only later that I finally grasped the meaning of what he said at the time.

One was the spirit of his anger about writing a history of a corrupt era. The other was: don’t start a song you can’t sing.

From Tomu Uchida’s posthumously published memoir, Fifty Years a Film Director (1999). Jonathan Clements is the author of A Brief History of the Samurai.

Bridge of Bodies

“And this is not the last time that a film with strong Chinese opera connections is prepared to drag itself out any sense of naturalism, away from any shadow of realism, and instead into a world that is evocative, and allusive to the world of the stage.

“For example, if you look at 8 Diagram Pole Fighter, the entire opening sequence depicts a clash of cavalry forces with no horses, and a massacre of Song loyalists presented in a format that seems designed to line them all up, as if facing an audience beyond a proscenium arch. And that’s because 8 Diagram Pole Fighter, like 14 Amazons, is associated so strongly in the Cantonese mind with these opera performances, that one almost expects such distractions, in much the same way, that people seem to be more forgiving, of cartoonish action in films based on comics.

“‘A bridge of human bodies’ is a phrase I have heard before in Chinese military history, and it tends to be used in a much more prosaic fashion, much as Henry V ‘blocks up the walls with our English dead.’ As far as I can remember, I can’t actually recall exactly which author it originates from, or even if it is an official proverb, but I do recall seeing it referring to siege warfare where a pile of bodies becomes the ramp by which a victorious army descends.

“So this sequence frankly carnivalises it, turns it into a literal bridge, of living bodies, who somehow perform the function of allowing all the Amazon’s army to cross this ravine, and it’s, for me, at least, it’s a low point in the film, because it throws realism completely out the window. Not naturalism, because this is clearly a fictionalisation of events, but true realism, adhering to the rules that the text has set for itself. But I think I’m in a minority here, because everybody else thinks this is just bonkers, and suitably entertaining for the cheap seats.”

From my commentary track to 14 Amazons, found in Arrow’s Shawscope #3 box set.

Diebuster

“…he leaned on different sporting allusions, particularly a fusion of pilot and mecha evocative of equestrian sports or bicycle racing – where Gunbuster imagined the machines as fighter jets, Diebuster reconceived them as more like living mounts with wills of their own. They were not so much vehicles now as participants in school life, organic personalities that invited a form of cross-species bonding, like a young girl befriending her pony, which can fly, and shoot things.”

From my essay in the sleeve notes to Anime Limited’s release of Diebuster.

Angel’s Egg

Like several other notable titles of the 1980s, Angel’s Egg was briefly shown in a Tokyo cinema in order to qualify it as a “film”, and hence command attention from movie magazines. However, it was hardly a major splash – an early morning screening on Sunday 22nd December at the Toei Hall, a week after the video cassette was already on sale, ironically on the release day of the fourth film in the Urusei Yatsura franchise that Oshii himself had once helmed, and only a day after the premieres of both Vampire Hunter D and the Captain Tsubasa movie. If you were an anime fan that weekend, you would have had a busy schedule. Angel’s Egg, it seems, lost out in all the competition, an avowedly arthouse project in an anime scene that had a very different idea of what “grown-up” cartoons should be.

The reaction to the film on its original release was muted. Yoshikazu Yasuhiko damned it with faint praise in Animage by comparing it to Eiichi Yamamoto’s Belladonna of Sadness (1973), itself a film that flopped on its original release, only to be praised by later critics as an arthouse classic. Hayao Miyazaki commented that Oshii had gone on a “one-way trip” with no notion of how to come home. In the most cutting of bad notices, Oshii’s own mother told him that she doubted anyone would want to see another one of his films ever again.

From my article in the sleeve notes to the Umbrella (Australia) release of Mamoru Oshii’s Angel’s Egg.

A Clements Christmas

So many wonderful gift ideas to choose from, from your friendly neighbourhood historian. For the family foodie, The Emperor’s Feast: A History of China in Twelve Meals; for the military-minded uncle, Japan at War in the Pacific: The Rise and Fall of the Japanese Empire in Asia 1868-1945; for the politically curious, Rebel Island: The Incredible History of Taiwan, and for the weebs, Anime: A History, now in a posh second edition.

And if you already have all those recent Clements history books, then there’s always something lurking in the backlist, like an acclaimed translation of The Art of War, or a Brief History of the Martial Arts. And for those planning to travel in 2026, histories of Japan and China, Tokyo and Beijing.

Other authors are available. But are they as fun?

Bringing a Knife to a Gunfight

‘There was an attack on Jin Yong’s writing in the Party newspaper, Zhongguo Qingnian Bao, by someone called Wang Shuo, which was a real hatchet job against his popularity with the young. Wang specifically called out Demi-gods and Semi-Devils for criticism, and said that it was unconscionably awful.

‘He only read the first volume, which is to say, the events that we see in this Battle Wizard movie, and said that he had to finish it “while holding his nose” accusing Jin Yong of “making every single error that someone can make in writing fiction” including shunting his characters around through predictable obstacles like “pigs driven through a narrow alley.”

‘So as you can perhaps already tell, it was a significant hatchet job, and went on and on about how Jin Yong’s books were so terrible, and so popular, that as far as Wang could see there was only one possible explanation, which was that people needed escapism from their modern lives, and that wuxia fiction served as, what he called, a “head massage.”

‘Unfortunately, Wang Shuo seemed to have forgotten the golden rule of literary criticism, which is not to pick a fight with someone who writes for a living, because only a few weeks later, Jin Yong published an absolutely rip-roaring response of his own in the Wenhui Bao newspaper in Shanghai.

‘He said that he was always pleased to read criticism of his work, and that he basically agreed that his fiction was over-rated, and he was sorry for all the awards it had won, and all the copies that it sold, and the millions of people who loved reading it. And, you know, it was probably a sign of terrible times that these books that Wang Shuo hated so much were the subject of a graduate course at Beijing University, and it was surely of great embarassment that American academics had staged a whole conference on his fiction in Colorado.

‘And he went on to say that it was kind of weird that Wang Shuo said he could barely finish the first of seven volumes, because the story actually only had five volumes, so it sounded to him that he was reading an illegal pirate edition, or maybe even a completely different book. But whatever, he was very grateful for millions of enthusiastic readers, and one troll whining about it didn’t bother him much.’

From my commentary track to Battle Wizard, to be found in Arrow Films’ new Shawscope #4 box set.

The Price of Horses

Two years previously, when the Studio Park had been opened to great fanfare, Toei had sent sixteen truckloads of cinema-grade scenery, costumes and armour off to the trash heap, convinced that it would be a waste of money to keep storing samurai sets and material in an era of thrillers and detective dramas.

Red-faced producers were obliged to rebuild many interiors from scratch, leading to complaints from the studio head, Shigeru Okada. Despite his earlier enthusiasm, he now remembered somewhat tardily that he had been the bean-counter who had shut down period dramas at Toei in the first place. It was all very well making samurai films, he fumed, but horses now cost ten times what they used to.


From my booklet article in the new Eureka Blu-ray release of Shogun’s Samurai, a.k.a. The Yagyu Conspiracy.

Tadashi Nishimoto (“Ho Lan-shan”)

“Without enough bulbs to adequately light the set, Nishimoto focussed on key-lighting the principles, rendering many backgrounds into moody shadows. The resultant film, The Magnificent Concubine, was a visual triumph, going on to win the Technical Grand Prize at the Cannes Film Festival, although Nishimoto kept away from the celebratory party, in order to preserve the illusion of the film as an all-Chinese achievement.”

From my article on Tadashi Nishimoto and other Japanese film-makers working under false Chinese names in the Hong Kong industry, included in the Arrow Films Shawscope #4 box set.

Edinburgh Loves Anime

And while the rest of you were sleeping, I was on a train from London, where I interviewed the directors of ChaO and All You Need is Kill this weekend, to Edinburgh, where tonight there is a second bite of the ChaO cherry with director Yasuhiro Aoki, and later in the week I will be interviewing Baku Kinoshita about his gentle movie The Last Blossom, a love letter to the mid-1980s before everything fell apart. For Japan, not for me.