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Culture shock

FRINGE CLUB FOUNDER Benny Chia Chun-heng isn't an old man. But, as he meticulously prepares a cup of Fujian ti guanyin with his favourite clay tea set, scarf wrapped around his neck against the cold, he's sure beginning to sound like one.

'The people who attend art events aren't the same as they were 20 years ago,' he says, referring to the days when he first opened Hong Kong's alternative culture centre.

'Twenty years ago, we didn't have such competition. There weren't so many shows and concerts, bars and clubs. If people went out, it was really a special occasion - especially if it was to see an overseas performer.

'Back then, there was no home entertainment system with widescreen flat-screen televisions and surround sound,' he says 'People didn't sit at home and watch DVDs of their favourite opera or ballet. Back then, you couldn't access foreign culture with a click of a mouse. That's what made art festivals so special, so exclusive.'

Chia is coming to terms with a challenge facing all Hong Kong arts promoters, as they struggle to remain relevant to a younger generation accustomed to having endless entertainment options at their fingertips. The Fringe has an additional challenge because it's perched on top of Hong Kong's hottest and constantly growing dining and nightlife district.

'Twenty years ago, all that was in Lan Kwai Fong was Disco Disco and 97 - and there was no SoHo district,' says Chia. 'Now - bing! bang! - there's a new bar, restaurant, cafe, gallery or club opening within walking distance of the Fringe every week. There are so many I can't even keep track of them.'

Last year, arts insiders secretly wondered if all that competition - plus the economic toll the Sars crisis took on Hong Kong - would finally kill City Fringe, the club's annual arts festival, which was much smaller than usual.

So, there was a collective sigh of relief when the 2005 City Fringe programme was released recently, showing a healthy bounce back, with almost double the number of performances and shows as last year.

'Last year was almost like a stop-gap,' Chia says. 'We regrouped our resources because of the economic downturn and Sars. During that period of time, we looked at how we could remain relevant. The whole lifestyle changed, so we needed to change the way we promote the arts. It isn't just a matter of selling tickets, it's a matter of arts education. If we can't tune into the way the new generation thinks, we'll never teach them anything about culture.'

One major difference, Chia says, is how much busier people are. 'In other cities, audiences often come to shows a half-hour in advance, and then stay an extra half-hour afterwards, to have a glass of wine and discuss the performance. This doesn't happen today in Hong Kong. Most of [the Fringe's audiences] rush in with their suitcases, hungry, one minute before the show.'

With the possible exception of the Hong Kong Arts Festival, promoters trying to hold three-hour-long operas have had a hard time convincing busy Hongkongers to dedicate all evening to culture. Today's professionals get off work at seven, not five, and seeing a long show usually means skipping dinner. Many art lovers have spent nights at the Cultural Centre desperately queuing to buy a pre-packed tuna sandwich that's then scarfed down during the 10- minute intermission. This is exactly the situation Chia wants to avoid.

This year, the Fringe has been careful to be as practical as possible in its events planning, which includes tastings and lunchtime theatre performances (including lunch, of course). If traditional operas, dramas and orchestral concerts are like expensive, five-course French meals, then the Fringe Club is now offering the cultural equivalent of dim sum. At the 2005 City Fringe, there are no tickets priced at more than $180 and no performances that last more than an hour. This means audiences have the option of fitting shows into busy schedules and tight budgets. Those who wish can catch two or even three performances, plus dinner, in one night.

Aside from practical concerns such as scheduling and ticketing, the Fringe also has to capture the imaginations of a wider audience who might be intimidated by high-brow, traditional cultural offerings. 'We can't just appeal to art people and art students,' Chia says. 'We need to appeal to the busy lawyer or businessman who also has an interest in culture. That means we have to mix in accessible, humorous, interesting works instead of just minority interest performances.'

This year's lineup is heavy on cabaret, stand-up, comedies and multi-media shows, and light on serious fare. Musically, it's all about jazz and rock, not classical or experimental contemporary composition. The sole operatic offering comes in the form of Max Sharam's one-woman Madame Butterfly spoof Butterfly Suicide. Even violinist Beni Schmid is paying homage to jazz great Stephane Grappelli, as opposed to performing the classical works he'll be playing the same month with the Hong Kong Sinfonietta.

There are also more talks and seminars than before, which makes sense considering how much the arts have been in the news recently. Taking pride of place as the City Fringe's first event is an exhibition and talk series dedicated to the West Kowloon cultural district controversy. 'We have to keep things topical,' says Chia. 'We have to refer to things that people see in the papers and on television everyday.'

The 2005 lineup also includes a six Korea-related events, including talks such as Seoul Cool, Seoul Kitsch and the Lee Byung Hun Fan Forum. They're a reflection of how hot Korean movie stars and pop music are among Hong Kong youth (although Fringe Club coordinator Catherine Lau's well-known love of all things Korean probably also has a lot to do with it).

'It was only after we announced our K-pop programme that we realised how many of our members - maybe a bit secretly - see all the Korean movies and collect all the memorabilia at home,' says Chia.

The Fringe has added some programmes for students, in an attempt to form attachments with what will become the next generation of potential audiences. 'For our excavation, we've invited along 11- to 14-year-old kids from about 10 Central and SoHo area secondary schools,' says Chia. 'The excavation can be like a treasure hunt for them. I hope this will make them look at all of Central differently, to become more curious about the history of the buildings they might be living or studying in.'

Whether this new approach will work or not remains to be seen, but the Fringe seem determined to become as hip and fast-moving as modern society.

'I know how young people think nowadays,' Chia says. 'They'll see an ad on a bus, say 'Hey! The new Langham mall in Mongkok is open!', call their friends on their mobiles, and that's their Friday night.' The days when people booked theatre tickets a month in advance are almost gone, he says.

'We want people to poke their heads in, see that there will be a show on, then call their friends on the spot,' Chia says. ''Hey, I'm at the Fringe. Wanna see a cabaret?' We have to be able to generate that level of excitement.'

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