Title: “The New King of Comedy (2019): Wang Baoqiang’s Gritty Ode to Dreamers in Chinese Cinema”
In an era dominated by CGI spectacles and franchise juggernauts, Stephen Chow’s The New King of Comedy (2019) stands as a defiantly humanistic work—a darkly comedic mirror held up to the brutal realities of artistic ambition. Starring Wang Baoqiang in a career-redefining role, this underappreciated gem reimagines Chow’s own 1999 classic King of Comedy for the age of social media hustle and disposable fame. For international audiences seeking authentic Chinese storytelling that blends slapstick absurdity with existential despair, here’s why this film demands attention.
- Wang Baoqiang: Subverting the “Foolish Hero” Persona
Known globally for his roles as earnest underdogs in films like Lost in Thailand, Wang delivers a seismic shift as Ma Ke—a washed-up actor clinging to relevance through tantrums and delusions of grandeur. In one blistering scene, Ma Ke storms off a WWII film set, screaming, “I’m a thespian, not a clown!” only to later beg for the same role he disdained. This tragicomic duality showcases Wang’s range, dismantling his trademark “lovable fool” image.
The genius lies in how Ma Ke’s narcissism mirrors the entertainment industry’s obsession with vanity metrics. When he demands his assistant livestream his “craft” to fans, only to show him napping between takes, the film critiques China’s influencer culture with surgical precision.
- Dreams vs. Delusions: A Timeless Theme Rebooted
While Chow’s original focused on struggling actors, the 2019 iteration broadens its lens to examine modern China’s gig economy dreamers. Protagonist Ru Meng (E Jingwen), a 30-year-old delivery driver turned aspiring actress, embodies millions chasing opportunities in China’s cutthroat creative industries. Her nightly routine—applying zombie makeup for horror gigs by day, studying Stanislavski by night—captures the exhausting duality of survival versus aspiration.
The film’s most haunting sequence sees Ru Meng rehearsing a death scene while actual blood drips from a head wound sustained during a humiliating stunt. This grotesque poetry epitomizes Chow’s thesis: In today’s China, the line between artistic sacrifice and self-destruction has never been thinner.
- Meta-Humor and Cultural Satire
Chow weaponizes his signature mo lei tau (nonsense) humor to skewer China’s entertainment ecosystem:
- A cringeworthy product placement scene where Ru Meng promotes a dairy brand mid-audition, only to vomit from lactose intolerance
- Reality TV parodies where judges critique actors’ “marketability” over talent
- Ma Ke’s viral comeback via a Shrek-inspired meme—a jab at China’s trend-driven content mills
Yet beneath the laughs lies systemic critique. When Ru Meng’s father (a staggering cameo by Chow himself) screams, “My daughter isn’t trash to be stepped on!”, it’s both a father’s cry and a director’s indictment of an industry that commodifies human dignity.
- The Live-Streaming Lens: Fame in the Digital Age
Chow astutely identifies live-streaming as modern China’s new “theater”—a platform where Ru Meng’s acting coach (Zhang Quandan) hawks courses to desperate aspirants. In the film’s pivotal twist, Ru Meng’s accidental viral video (a security cam clip of her rehearsing) propels her to fame, questioning whether success stems from talent or algorithmic luck.
This narrative thread resonates globally. As Ma Ke bitterly observes: “Yesterday’s joke is today’s trending topic.” The film argues that in the attention economy, everyone’s both performer and product—a theme echoing Western works like Joker and Black Mirror.
- Why It Challenges Western Perceptions of Chinese Cinema
Western audiences accustomed to China’s wuxia epics or propagandist blockbusters will find The New King of Comedy startlingly raw. Unlike the polished nationalism of Wolf Warrior, this film exposes societal fractures:
- Ageism: 30-something women deemed “expired” for lead roles
- Class divides: Ru Meng’s family mortgaging their home to fund her dreams
- Artistic compromise: Directors forced to cast influencers over trained actors
The closing scene—a Brechtian play within a film where Ru Meng’s “success story” gets reinterpreted as farce—leaves audiences questioning every feel-good underdog narrative they’ve consumed.
Conclusion: Not Just a Movie, a Cultural X-Ray
-The New King of Comedy* (2019) transcends its comedic shell to become a sobering study of ambition in late-stage capitalist China. Wang Baoqiang’s fearless self-parody and Chow’s self-critical direction (he essentially mocks his own legacy) create a work that’s equal parts hilarious and harrowing.
For foreign viewers, this film offers more than entertainment—it’s a gateway to understanding the human cost behind China’s economic miracle. As streaming platforms erase borders, Ru Meng’s struggle to be seen mirrors every artist’s fight against algorithmic oblivion.
So log off Douyin, silence your WeChat, and let this unflinching masterpiece remind you why we chase spotlights—even when they burn.