Chef Peng
I make films. I love being able to take a story and bring it to life in a new way. For me the whole process of making a film, whether a documentary or drama, is a great adventure- there are so many choices to make, so many people to collaborate with and so much to potentially go wrong! It’s always great when a film is finally finished and you can show it to people, but ultimately, it’s the making of it that I love the most.
I used to want to be a journalist, and making films isn’t that different – you’re still essentially a storyteller. Since I was young, I have been intrigued by people and characters - much to my Mum’s despair, I always talked to everyone and anyone. I think I write scripts and make films to be able to connect with people on a deeper level, to get closer to their stories and to see the world through a different pair of eyes.
Most of my ideas come from experience – meeting people, travelling places, living somewhere. Often the end result of a project will be an amalgamation of a few different inspirations. A short film that I'm about to shoot began with me wanting to tell an alternative version of a funeral I had gone to that was celebratory, fun and a laugh as opposed to the sad and impersonal affair it was in reality. The film is now an LGBTQ comedy about a vicar in the midst of an identity crisis who lets his imagination run wild when asked to organise a last-minute funeral…. So, you see how things change!
All my ideas begin with a spark and then I sit with it, thinking about what shape it could take. When I begin, the first thing required is normally a lot of research, where I can deep dive into the subject and the context of the script I am writing, the characters and the story I’m trying to tell. Without a solid foundation in reality, people and plots can quickly become weak.
After I’ve finished the research, I’ll thrash out a clear outline of the script of the film, before starting to write. The directing process is far more collaborative and starts with getting a great team on board; a producer, production designer, cinematographer, editor and composer. Then it’s an exciting few weeks of pre-production, planning with each part of the crew exactly what is required and trying to show them what my vision for each element of the film is and work together to make it happen. Essentially directing is all about being an effective communicator and then surrounding yourself with super talented people who are amazing at their jobs and will elevate your ideas into something even better than you imagined!
Once the ball is rolling it’s impossible to stop- there are so many people invested in it. Making films is super exciting and each stage brings its own challenges to overcome, so being committed right until it’s finished takes some stamina, but is a necessity.
It can be tempting to over work a film, to keep moving things around but often the simplest solutions are the best. If I’m struggling with something in the edit I will step away for a few days to get some perspective and when I return to watch it, the answer usually comes clearly.
My most recent film is titled Chef Peng – a short documentary about a brilliant Chinese chef on the brink of retirement.
My love affair with Chinese food started young. Sunday lunches were spent at the Red Lion in Richmond, devouring piles of crispy duck whilst my parents enjoyed a moments silence. As I grew, I began an exploration into the more ‘obscure’ corners of the cuisine and soon discovered there was far more to Chinese than your average takeaway would lead you to believe. I was hooked, not just by the delicious flavours, but the education that arrived with each new dish.
When he’d arrived in London from Taiwan, Chef Peng looked at the menus of 1970s Chinatown - Spare Ribs, Spring Rolls, Sweet-and-Sour Pork - and knew he could do better. Much better. So, he opened his own restaurant, Hunan, where he began innovating, refining and pushing the boundaries of Chinese food in the UK ever since. Chef Peng is a man who does not compromise. The epitome of strong-willed, he has struggled and fought against expectations of Chinese cuisine and British culture for the past four decades, leading Hunan to become one of London's most unique and surprising food destinations.
Hunan became a firm family favourite. Here, there was no menu. Chef Peng served you as he wished until you asked him to stop. As with all the Hunan guests, my family knew Chef Peng because he spent much of the service chatting animatedly with his customers, welcoming them as if they were eating in his home. My brother Fred and I, both documentary filmmakers, were drawn to Chef Peng’s character and knew he had a great story to tell.
After years of deliberation and pouring over his cookbook, attempting to emulate his signature dishes, we persuaded Chef Peng to show us the beating heart of the restaurant. He invited us down and like so many kitchens, the Hunan’s proved to be underwhelming. It was cramped, hot as Hades, but incredibly well organised. Soon, with the help of our fantastic and fluent-Mandarin-speaking cinematographer, Seppe, we were filming the master at work.
As a self-funded passion-project, our film took a while to take shape as we juggled it between jobs and persuaded our creative peers to help us out. The shooting was the fun part, spending time with Chef Peng and his son Michael (who is also front of house at Hunan) and learning about his extraordinary philosophy. ‘The chef is like a doctor’, he said, ‘you must find the right medicine, the right combination of ingredients and flavours to heal’.
The shoot was the easy part, the struggle was the edit. We made the decision to ditch much of what we shot, including the interviews, and instead chose to focus on the man at work in his kitchen. To give a sense of the atmosphere of the restaurant we weaved in audio from his interactions with his guests upstairs, without ever revealing the restaurant itself.
We also decided to do away with any moments that he spoke to us in broken English and instead chose to have the entire film in his native language which, conveniently, neither of us spoke. It’s safe to say the language barrier became the biggest hurdle. It required us to develop a keen ear for even the smallest inflections of a language that is brutally foreign. In addition to that, Chef Peng has a tendency to speak in a form of Chinese that is highly specific and generously peppered with ancient proverbs that are very poetic but impossible to translate. Some of his musings were so indecipherable that even his son Michael was at a loss.
After much back and forth and a lot of laughter in the process, in spring last year, after two years of working on it, we were able to send Chef Peng the eight-minute film. Safe to say, documentary is labour of love.
We found ourselves filming as Chef Peng began to consider retirement after half a century of service, and our documentary captures some of his final days in the kitchen. The aim with my work is to tell compelling human stories, but what I really love about filmmaking is the excuse to spend time with the incredible humans whose stories I tell.
Fabia Martin