Stephen Chow: The Life Story Behind Hong Kong's Comedy King

Stephen Chow is the funniest man in Hong Kong, and also one of the most serious. That sounds like a contradiction, but it is the key to his whole career. His films are full of silly jokes, wild fights, and absurd situations, and they make millions of people laugh. Underneath the laughter, though, there is always something serious: a poor man trying to survive, a lonely person trying to be loved, a dreamer trying to be respected. Chow knows how to make people laugh, and he also knows how to make them feel, and that combination is why he is called the Comedy King of Hong Kong.

He was born in Hong Kong in 1962, into a poor family, and he grew up in a crowded housing estate, watching Bruce Lee films and dreaming of being a hero. He did not have money, and he did not have connections, but he had a gift for making people laugh, and he had a determination that would not let him give up. He worked his way from children’s television to small film roles, to leading roles, to directing his own films, and each step was harder than the last. His story is about a boy from a poor home who became one of the most successful filmmakers in Asia, by turning his own life into comedy.

What makes Chow different from other comedians is that his comedy is never only funny. It is also sad, and it is also true. His characters are often poor, often overlooked, often laughed at by others, and they fight back with humour, with courage, and with a kind of stubborn hope. That is Chow’s own story, and it is why his films mean so much to people in Hong Kong, in China, and around the world. They are not just jokes. They are stories about people who refuse to give up.

A Poor Boy Who Loved Bruce Lee

Stephen Chow was born on 22 June 1962 in Hong Kong, into a family that had very little money. His parents separated when he was young, and he grew up with his mother and his sisters in a public housing estate, in a small flat, with little space and little privacy. Life was hard, and Chow learned early what it meant to be poor, to be looked down on, and to want more than you had. That experience would stay with him for his whole life, and it would become the material for his films.

As a boy, Chow loved films, especially the films of Bruce Lee. He watched Lee’s films again and again, and he dreamed of being like him: strong, brave, and respected. He also loved the films of other stars, and he spent hours watching television and going to the cinema when he could afford it. He was not a good student in the usual sense, and he was not interested in a normal job. He wanted to be in films, and he wanted to make people laugh, and he held on to that dream even when it seemed impossible.

Chow’s mother supported him, even though the family had little money, and she encouraged him to try. He applied to the acting training class at TVB, the main television station in Hong Kong, and he was accepted, although not at first as a leading actor. He started as a children’s television host, on a programme called 430 Space Shuttle, where he had to be cheerful, energetic and funny for young viewers. It was not the job he had dreamed of, but it taught him how to perform in front of a camera, how to talk to an audience, and how to make people laugh on demand. Those skills would serve him for the rest of his career.

In the late 1980s Chow began to get small roles in films, and he began to show his gift for comedy. He was not a handsome leading man in the usual sense, and he was not a traditional action star. He was a funny man, with a quick tongue, a expressive face, and a way of turning a normal situation into something absurd. Audiences liked him, and directors began to give him bigger roles. He was on his way, but he was still far from being a star.

Final Justice, All for the Winner and the Rise

The turning point came in 1988, with the film Final Justice, in which Chow played a supporting role that won him an award and brought him to the attention of the film industry. The film showed that he could act as well as make people laugh, and that he had a talent that went beyond comedy. It was a sign that he was more than a children’s television host. He was a real actor, and he was ready for bigger things.

In 1990 Chow starred in All for the Winner, a comedy about gambling, which became a huge hit in Hong Kong. The film was funny, fast and full of energy, and it made Chow a star. He followed it with a series of hit comedies, including Fight Back to School, God of Gamblers II, and many others, in which he played a young man who was clever, cheeky and always ready with a joke. These films were popular because they were funny, but also because Chow’s characters were like the audience: ordinary people, trying to get by, trying to win, trying to be respected. The audience saw themselves in him, and they loved him for it.

The early 1990s were a busy time for Chow. He made many films, sometimes several in a year, and he became one of the most popular actors in Hong Kong. His style of comedy, known as mo lei tau, which means nonsense, was a mix of wordplay, slapstick, and absurd situations, and it was very different from the comedy that had come before. It was fast, it was silly, and it was very Hong Kong, with jokes that only people from the city would fully understand. That local feeling was part of its charm, and it made Chow a hero in Hong Kong, even if some of the jokes were hard to translate for audiences in other countries.

During this period Chow also began to think about directing. He was not happy just acting in other people’s films, and he wanted to control the story, the jokes, and the look of the film. He began to work more closely with directors, to suggest ideas, and to shape the films he was in. That desire to control his own work would become more important in the years that followed, and it would lead him to become a director in his own right.

King of Comedy and the Dream of Being a Star

In 1999 Chow directed and starred in King of Comedy, a film that is now seen as one of his best works, and one of the most personal. The film is about a poor, struggling actor who works as an extra, who dreams of being a star, and who is laughed at by everyone around him. It is a comedy, but it is also a sad film, about the pain of wanting something badly and being told you are not good enough. Many people in Hong Kong saw their own lives in the film, and it became a classic, even though it was not a huge commercial hit at first.

King of Comedy showed a different side of Chow. He was not only a comedian. He was a filmmaker with something to say about the film industry, about dreams, and about the cost of chasing them. The film was also a sign that Chow was ready to direct, and that he had a vision that went beyond acting. He wanted to make films that were funny, but also true, and King of Comedy was the first full expression of that vision.

After King of Comedy, Chow’s career changed. He began to focus more on directing, and on making fewer, bigger films, rather than many small comedies. He also began to think about the audience in mainland China, where his films were becoming popular, and about how to make films that would work for a larger, more diverse audience. That thinking would lead to his biggest successes, and to a new phase in his career as a director.

Shaolin Soccer and Kung Fu Hustle

In 2001 Chow directed and starred in Shaolin Soccer, a film about a group of Shaolin monks who use their kung fu skills to play football. The film was absurd, funny and full of energy, with special effects, with wild football scenes, and with a story about teamwork, about friendship, and about never giving up. It became a huge hit in Hong Kong and in Asia, and it introduced Chow to a new generation of fans, including young people who had never seen his earlier films. Shaolin Soccer was a turning point, because it showed that Chow could make a film that was both a comedy and a blockbuster, and that he could do it as a director, not only as an actor.

Three years later, in 2004, Chow directed and starred in Kung Fu Hustle, a film about a poor neighbourhood in 1940s Shanghai, where a young man pretends to be a gangster, and where the residents turn out to be kung fu masters in disguise. The film was a mix of comedy, action and fantasy, with stunning fight scenes, with funny characters, and with a story about kindness, about courage, and about the power of ordinary people. Kung Fu Hustle became a global hit, playing in cinemas around the world, and it made Chow famous outside Asia for the first time. It was praised by critics, it won awards, and it became one of the most loved Hong Kong films of all time.

Kung Fu Hustle also showed Chow’s skill as a director. He had learned how to use special effects, how to stage a fight, how to build a world, and how to balance comedy with emotion. The film was not only funny. It was also beautiful, with a look that mixed old Shanghai with fantasy, and with a feeling that was both nostalgic and new. Chow had become a filmmaker, not just a comedian, and the world had noticed.

CJ7, Journey to the West and The Mermaid

After Kung Fu Hustle, Chow made CJ7 in 2008, a film about a poor father and his son, who find a strange alien creature that brings them joy and trouble. The film was gentler than his earlier work, with a story about family, about poverty, and about love, and it showed a different side of Chow as a director. He was not only interested in making people laugh. He was also interested in making them feel, and CJ7 was a film about feeling, about the bond between a father and a son, and about the hope that a better life is possible.

Chow then moved behind the camera full-time, directing Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons in 2013, a fantasy film based on the classic Chinese novel, and The Mermaid in 2016, a romantic comedy about a mermaid who falls in love with a businessman. The Mermaid became the highest-grossing film in Chinese history at the time, and it confirmed Chow as one of the most successful directors in Asia. He was no longer acting in his films, but he was still the creative force behind them, writing, directing and producing, and shaping every joke, every scene, and every character.

In recent years Chow has continued to work as a director and producer, developing new projects, and working with new actors. He has become a mentor to younger filmmakers, and a symbol of Hong Kong cinema, even as the industry has changed. His films are still watched, still quoted, and still loved, in Hong Kong, in China, and around the world. He is a reminder that comedy can be serious, that a poor boy can become a king, and that a dream, held on to for a long time, can come true.

Why Stephen Chow Still Makes People Laugh

Stephen Chow matters because he changed Hong Kong comedy, and because he showed that comedy could be about real life, about poverty, about dreams, and about the struggle to be respected. His films are funny, but they are also true, and that truth is why they last. People in Hong Kong see themselves in his characters, and people in other countries see a universal story, about a person who is overlooked, who fights back with humour, and who refuses to give up. That is a story that everyone can understand, and it is why Chow’s films travel so well.

Today Chow is a legend in Hong Kong cinema, and he is respected as a director, a writer, and a comedian. He has built his career on laughter, on hard work, and on a belief in the audience, and he has done it without losing his connection to the poor boy he once was. His story is a reminder that the best comedy comes from real life, and that the funniest people are often the ones who have known sadness, and who have learned to laugh through it.

The Mermaid, Producing and Mentoring the Next Generation

The Mermaid, released in 2016, was a romantic comedy about a mermaid who is sent to kill a businessman, and who falls in love with him instead, and it became the highest-grossing film in Chinese history at the time, with a story that mixed comedy, romance, and a message about the environment, about the sea, and about protecting nature. The film was a huge success, and it showed that Chow could make a film for a mainland Chinese audience, with a story that was both funny and meaningful, and with a cast that included new actors, who he had chosen and trained. The Mermaid was not only a hit. It was a sign that Chow had become a director who could speak to a new generation, in a new market, and with a new kind of story.

After The Mermaid, Chow continued to work as a director and producer, developing new projects, including a new version of Journey to the West, and other films that he has been working on for years. He has become a mentor to younger filmmakers, sharing his experience, his ideas, and his approach to comedy, and he has helped to train a new generation of actors, including the actresses in The Mermaid, who were chosen from thousands of hopefuls, and who became stars through his films. That mentoring is an important part of his later career, because it shows that he cares about the future of Hong Kong and Chinese cinema, not only about his own films.

Chow has also been involved in producing films by other directors, using his name, his experience, and his company to support projects that he believes in. That work behind the scenes is less visible than his acting, but it is important, because it helps new filmmakers get a chance, and it keeps the industry alive. Chow is now a senior figure in Chinese cinema, a man whose opinion matters, whose films are studied, and whose comedy is imitated, and he has used that position to help others, as well as to make his own films. That generosity, done quietly, is part of his legacy, even if it is not as famous as Kung Fu Hustle.

Mo Lei Tau, Nonsense Comedy and a Hong Kong Style

Chow’s style of comedy, known as mo lei tau, which means nonsense, is a key part of his legacy, and it is a style that is very Hong Kong. It is fast, it is silly, it is full of wordplay, of slapstick, and of absurd situations, and it does not always make sense in a logical way. A character will say something strange, will do something unexpected, and the audience will laugh, not because it makes sense, but because it is surprising, because it is true to the character, and because it captures the feeling of life in Hong Kong, which is fast, crowded, and full of surprises. Mo lei tau is not easy to translate, and some of the jokes are hard for audiences outside Hong Kong to understand, but the feeling behind them, the humour, the energy, and the humanity, travels well, even when the words do not.

The style was a break from the comedy that had come before in Hong Kong, which was often more traditional, more polite, and more predictable. Chow’s comedy was rude, fast, and unpredictable, and it spoke to a younger audience, to people who lived in housing estates, who worked in shops, who took the bus, and who knew what it was like to be poor, to be overlooked, and to want more. That audience recognised themselves in Chow’s films, and they loved him for it, because he was not making fun of them. He was making fun with them, and he was showing their lives, their jokes, and their dreams, on screen, for the first time.

Mo lei tau has influenced many other comedians, directors, and actors in Hong Kong and in China, who have tried to copy Chow’s style, to use his kind of wordplay, his kind of timing, and his kind of absurdity. Few have matched him, because the style is not only about jokes. It is about a way of seeing the world, a way of finding humour in sadness, in poverty, and in difficulty, and that way of seeing comes from Chow’s own life, from his childhood in a housing estate, from his love of Bruce Lee, and from his determination to make people laugh, even when life is hard. That is why mo lei tau is still associated with Chow, even after many years, and why his films are still quoted, still watched, and still loved.

Fight Back to School, God of Gamblers and the Early Hits

Fight Back to School, released in 1991, was a comedy about a policeman who goes undercover as a student, and it became a huge hit in Hong Kong, with Chow playing a young man who is clever, cheeky, and always ready with a joke, even when he is in trouble. The film was funny, fast, and full of energy, and it showed Chow at his best as a comedian, with a style that was both silly and smart, and with a character who was like the audience: ordinary, trying to get by, and trying to win, even when the odds are against him. Fight Back to School was followed by sequels, and it became one of Chow’s most popular series, with fans who still quote its jokes, still watch it, and still laugh, decades later, because the humour is timeless, even if the setting is a school in Hong Kong in the early 1990s.

God of Gamblers II, released in 1990, was another hit, a comedy about gambling, about a young man with a special talent, and about the world of casinos, of luck, and of skill, and it showed Chow working with other stars, including Andy Lau, in a film that was both funny and exciting, with a story that kept the audience guessing, and with jokes that were fast, clever, and very Hong Kong. The film was a success, and it confirmed Chow as a star who could carry a big, commercial film, with a large cast, with a complex story, and with a lot of pressure, and still make it funny, still make it entertaining, and still make the audience love him, for his humour, for his energy, and for his ability to turn a normal situation into something absurd, and then into something funny.

These early hits, together with All for the Winner, form the foundation of Chow’s career as a film star, and they are the films that made him famous, that made him loved, and that made him a household name in Hong Kong, in a time when Hong Kong cinema was at its peak, with many films, many stars, and many audiences, who went to the cinema every week, to see a new comedy, a new action film, or a new drama. Chow was at the centre of that world, making films that were funny, that were popular, and that were, in their own way, about Hong Kong itself, about its people, its humour, its energy, and its dreams, and that is why those films are still watched, still quoted, and still loved, even today, when Hong Kong cinema has changed, and when the world has changed, around them.

The early films are also important because they show Chow learning his craft, learning how to be a star, how to carry a film, how to work with other actors, and how to make an audience laugh, night after night, film after film, until it became second nature to him. He made many films in a short time, sometimes several in a year, and each one taught him something new, about timing, about a joke, about a character, and about the audience, and that learning, done quickly, and done under pressure, made him a better comedian, a better actor, and eventually, a better director, who would go on to make Shaolin Soccer, Kung Fu Hustle, and The Mermaid, with the same humour, the same energy, and the same understanding of what makes people laugh, and what makes them feel.

My Take:

I think Stephen Chow is the funniest sad man I have ever watched, and I mean that as the highest praise. His films make me laugh, often out loud, and then, a moment later, they make me feel something else, something quieter and sadder, like the feeling of being poor, or being ignored, or wanting to be loved and not knowing how to ask for it. That mix, of laughter and sadness, is very hard to do well, and Chow does it better than almost anyone else. I think that is because he has lived both sides of it. He was a poor boy, he was overlooked, he wanted to be a star, and he turned all of that into comedy, without ever pretending that the sadness was not real.

King of Comedy is the film I think about most, because it is the most personal. It is about a man who works as an extra, who dreams of being a star, and who is laughed at by everyone, including the people who should support him. I have felt that feeling, of wanting something badly and being told you are not good enough, and I think many people have too. Chow does not make the film only sad. He makes it funny, too, because the man keeps going, keeps trying, keeps believing, even when the world tells him to stop. That stubborn hope is, I think, the heart of Chow’s work, and it is why I love that film. It does not promise that the dream will come true. It promises that the dream is worth having, even if it does not come true, and that is a more honest promise.

Kung Fu Hustle is the film I would show to someone who has never seen Chow before, because it is the most complete. It has comedy, it has action, it has fantasy, it has a love story, and it has a neighbourhood full of ordinary people who turn out to be extraordinary. I love the idea at the centre of it, that the quiet neighbours, the landlord, the landlady, the cook, are all kung fu masters in disguise, and that they will fight to protect their home when it is threatened. That is a beautiful idea, because it suggests that ordinary people have hidden strength, and that a poor neighbourhood can be a place of heroes. I think Chow believes that, because he came from a poor neighbourhood, and he knows that the people there are not only poor. They are also strong, funny and kind, and they deserve a film that shows that.

I also think about the cost of Chow’s success, because it is not a simple happy story. He is known as a perfectionist, and as a director who is demanding, sometimes difficult to work with, and who expects a lot from the people around him. I have read that he can be tough on actors, and that he will shoot a scene many times until it is exactly right. I understand that, because I know that making a good film takes that kind of care, but I also think it must be hard to work with someone who never settles, and hard to be that person, too. Perfectionism is a gift and a burden, and Chow carries both. I admire the films that come from it, and I also feel a little sad for the man who cannot let go, even when the film is already good.

There is a part of his story that makes me think about Hong Kong itself. Chow’s films are very Hong Kong, with jokes, with language, with places, with a feeling that only people from the city fully understand, and yet they have travelled around the world. That tells me something about Hong Kong, and about the power of a local story to become a universal one. A film about a poor neighbourhood in Shanghai, or about a football team in Hong Kong, can speak to people in other countries, because the feelings are universal, even if the jokes are local. I find that hopeful, because it means that you do not have to erase where you come from to be understood. You can be specific, and still be universal, if you are honest.

The Mermaid becoming the highest-grossing film in Chinese history at the time is a moment I think about, because it shows how far Chow had come. From a children’s television host, to a comedy star, to a director of a film that millions of people watched, that is a long journey, and it is one that few people make. I think about the boy in the housing estate, watching Bruce Lee, dreaming of being a hero, and I wonder what he would think if he could see himself now, as the Comedy King, as a director whose films are watched by millions. I think he would be proud, and I think he would also be a little surprised, because dreams do not always come true in the way we imagine them. Chow’s dream came true, but it came true in a different way, through comedy, through directing, through making people laugh, and that is a good dream, too.

I do not think Chow is perfect, and I think his later films, while successful, do not always have the same raw feeling as his earlier work. CJ7 is gentler, Journey to the West is bigger, The Mermaid is more polished, and sometimes I miss the rough, local, Hong Kong feeling of his early comedies, when the jokes were faster and the world was smaller. I understand why he changed, because he wanted to reach a larger audience, and because the film industry in China is different from the one in Hong Kong, but I still feel a small loss for that earlier, rougher Chow. That is a fair criticism, and it does not take away from his achievement, but it is an honest one.

If a young filmmaker asked me what to learn from Stephen Chow, I would say this: turn your own life into comedy, but do not hide the sadness. Write about being poor, about being ignored, about wanting to be loved, and make it funny, because humour is how we survive those things. Work hard, be a perfectionist, but also be kind to the people you work with, because a film is made by many people, not by one. And do not give up on your dream, even if it takes years, even if people laugh at you, because the dream is worth having, and the work is worth doing.

In the end, I think Stephen Chow has taught me that laughter is not the opposite of sadness. It is a way of living with sadness, of facing it, and of refusing to let it win. His films make me laugh, and they also make me think, and they also make me feel less alone. That is a rare gift, and it is why I will keep watching his films, and why I think Hong Kong will keep calling him its Comedy King for a long time.

I also think about mo lei tau, and about what it means to make comedy out of nonsense, out of wordplay, out of absurdity, and to do it in a way that is both funny and true. That is a hard thing to do, because nonsense can easily become meaningless, and a joke that does not make sense can fall flat, but Chow makes it work, because his nonsense is rooted in real life, in the feeling of being poor, of being ignored, of wanting to be respected, and of finding humour in that feeling. I think that is a gift, to be able to laugh at a difficult life, without pretending that the difficulty is not real, and Chow has that gift, more than almost any other comedian I know.

I think about The Mermaid, and about the way it became the highest-grossing film in Chinese history, and about what that must have felt like, to go from a children’s television host, to a comedy star, to a director whose film is watched by millions of people, in a country of more than a billion. That is a long journey, and it is one that few people make, and I think Chow must feel a mix of pride, of gratitude, and of disbelief, and I hope he feels it, because he has earned it, through hard work, through perfectionism, and through a belief in his audience. A film that is watched by millions is not only a commercial success. It is a sign that the story touched people, that the comedy made them laugh, and that the message, about the sea, about nature, about love, reached them, and that is a meaningful achievement.

I wonder what Chow will do next, and I hope he will keep making films, because Hong Kong and Chinese cinema need him, need his comedy, need his vision, and need his ability to make people laugh and think at the same time. There are many directors who can make a comedy, and many who can make a serious film, but few who can do both, in the same film, and Chow is one of them. I hope he keeps doing it, even if it takes years, even if the films are fewer, because a good Chow film is worth waiting for, and it is worth watching, again and again, for the jokes, for the action, and for the feeling that, even when life is hard, there is still something to laugh about, and something to hope for.

I also think about the young actors he has mentored, and about the way he has given new people a chance, by casting them in his films, by training them, and by sharing his experience. That is a generous act, and it is one that will last longer than any single film, because those actors will go on to make their own films, to tell their own stories, and to inspire other young people, just as Chow was inspired by Bruce Lee as a boy. That chain, from Lee to Chow, from Chow to the next generation, is how cinema survives, and it is why Chow’s work as a mentor matters, even if it is less visible than his work as a star.

In the end, I come back to the poor boy in the housing estate, watching Bruce Lee, dreaming of being a hero, and to the man he became, the Comedy King, the director, the mentor, and the filmmaker whose films are watched by millions. That journey, from a small flat in Hong Kong, to the top of Chinese cinema, is a remarkable one, and it is a reminder that a dream, held on to for a long time, can come true, even if it comes true in a different way than you imagined. Chow dreamed of being a hero like Bruce Lee, and he became a hero of a different kind, a hero of comedy, a hero who makes people laugh, and a hero who shows them that even a poor, overlooked person can be strong, can be brave, and can be loved. That is a hero worth remembering.

I also think about Fight Back to School, and about what it means to go undercover, to pretend to be someone you are not, and to learn, in the process, who you really are, and I find that idea interesting, because it is a common one in Chow’s films, a character who pretends, who lies, who cheats, and who then learns, through the pretence, what is true, what matters, and who he really is. That is a hopeful idea, because it suggests that even a lie can lead to truth, if you are willing to learn, and that even a joke can lead to a serious feeling, if you are willing to feel it. Chow’s films are full of such ideas, hidden inside jokes, inside slapstick, and inside absurd situations, and that is why they last, because they are not only funny, they are also true, in a way that is hard to describe, but easy to feel, when you watch them.

I think about God of Gamblers II, and about gambling, about luck, about skill, and about the feeling of taking a risk, of betting everything, and of hoping that you will win, even when the odds are against you, and I find that feeling familiar, because we all take risks, in life, in love, in work, and we all hope that we will win, even when we are not sure. Chow’s films about gambling are not only about casinos. They are about life, about the risk of living, about the hope of winning, and about the humour of losing, and then trying again, with a joke, with a smile, and with a determination to keep going, even when you have lost everything, and that is a hopeful message, and one I need to hear, especially when I feel that I have lost, and that I should give up.

I wonder what it must be like to be a young actor, making many films in a year, learning quickly, under pressure, and becoming a star, almost overnight, with fans who love you, with directors who want you, and with a whole industry that depends on you, to make films that will sell, that will make people laugh, and that will keep Hong Kong cinema alive. That must be exciting, and also frightening, because fame can be a heavy weight, and because a star who is popular today can be forgotten tomorrow, if he stops working, if he stops being funny, or if he stops caring. Chow did not stop. He kept working, kept learning, and kept growing, from an actor, to a director, to a mentor, and that growth is a sign of a person who cares about his craft, who wants to be better, and who will not settle for being only a star, when he can also be a filmmaker, a storyteller, and a teacher.

I also think about the audience in Hong Kong in the early 1990s, who went to the cinema every week, to see a new Chow film, to laugh, to forget their worries, and to feel that they were part of something, a shared joke, a shared story, and a shared city, and I find that moving, because it shows that cinema can be a community, a place where people come together, to laugh, to cry, and to feel, even if they do not know each other, and even if they come from different lives. Chow’s films gave Hong Kong that community, in the 1990s, and they still give it, today, when people watch his films on television, on streaming, and in cinemas, and laugh, together, at the same jokes, that they laughed at thirty years ago, and that still work, because they are true, because they are funny, and because they are about Hong Kong, and about being human.

In the end, I come back to the poor boy, to Bruce Lee, and to the dream of being a hero, and I think that Chow became a hero, not by being like Bruce Lee, but by being himself, by being funny, by being serious, and by being honest, about poverty, about dreams, and about the struggle to be respected. That is a different kind of hero, a hero of comedy, a hero who makes people laugh, and a hero who shows them that even a poor, overlooked person can be strong, can be brave, and can be loved. That is a hero worth remembering, and it is why I will keep watching his films, and why I think Hong Kong will keep calling him its Comedy King, for a long time to come.

Frequently Asked Questions

How did Stephen Chow start his career in Hong Kong?

Stephen Chow was born in Hong Kong in 1962 into a poor family, and he began as a children’s television host on TVB’s 430 Space Shuttle after training at the station. He then moved into small film roles in the late 1980s, before his supporting role in Final Justice in 1988 brought him wider attention. His early work taught him how to perform for a camera and make audiences laugh.

What was Stephen Chow’s first big hit as a film star?

All for the Winner, released in 1990, was his first major hit as a leading man, a comedy about gambling that became very popular in Hong Kong. He followed it with Fight Back to School, God of Gamblers II and many other hit comedies in the early 1990s. His fast, nonsense style of comedy, known as mo lei tau, made him a star.

What is King of Comedy about?

King of Comedy, directed by Chow in 1999, is about a poor, struggling actor who works as an extra and dreams of being a star, while everyone around him laughs at his ambition. The film is both funny and sad, and it is seen as one of Chow’s most personal works. Many viewers in Hong Kong saw their own lives and dreams in the story.

Why are Shaolin Soccer and Kung Fu Hustle so famous?

Shaolin Soccer from 2001, about Shaolin monks who play football, and Kung Fu Hustle from 2004, about a poor Shanghai neighbourhood of hidden kung fu masters, were both huge hits in Asia and around the world. Kung Fu Hustle in particular made Chow famous outside Asia, winning praise and awards for its mix of comedy, action and fantasy. Both films show Chow as a director, not only as an actor.

Did Stephen Chow stop acting to become a director?

Yes, after Kung Fu Hustle and CJ7 in 2008, Chow moved behind the camera full-time, directing Journey to the West in 2013 and The Mermaid in 2016, which became the highest-grossing film in Chinese history at the time. He still writes, directs and produces, shaping every part of his films, even though he no longer appears in them as an actor.

Are Stephen Chow’s films popular outside Hong Kong?

Yes, his films are popular in mainland China, across Asia, and around the world, especially Kung Fu Hustle, which played in cinemas in many countries. His comedy is very Hong Kong in its jokes and language, but its themes of poverty, dreams and ordinary heroes are universal. That mix is why his work travels so well.