The appeal of foreign film deities in China is a mystery shrouded in cultural niceties and uncontrollable timing

The recent death of an 83-year-old Japanese actor created a wave of commemoration in China, which is quite unusual in the current climate of tense Sino-Japanese relations. Even though Ken Takakura is widely revered in both countries, his unique stature in China was made possible by a film that probably did not feature prominently in his 205-film body of work.

For Japanese audiences, Manhunt was just another of his movies; but for Chinese with a memory of the late 1970s, it was an eye-opener. It opened our vistas to films with chases, suspense, the hero wronged and the girl who dares to go on the run with him.

There is another Japanese celebrity on a - hmm, how shall I put it? - almost similar pedestal in the Chinese consciousness. Her name is Sola Aoi, and her Chinese microblog has 15 million followers. The 31-year-old started her career in pornography and nude modeling, but has been branching out into mainstream entertainment. Although she is well-known to consumers of Japanese adult video, the top Japanese diplomat to China had never heard of her until he arrived in China. Asked by a Chinese reporter about the possibility of hiring Aoi as a grassroots goodwill emissary between peoples of the two countries, ambassador Masato Kitera replied, according to a report by ifeng.com, that he considers it a shame for Japan's art and culture that Aoi, of all Japanese artists, is the most popular in China.

The popularity of entertainment personalities has many variables, some of which cannot be easily explained. (People try anyway.) And their overseas status is often the function of factors that even the best analysts and pundits cannot fathom but, interestingly, may reflect certain cultural variances. For example, why do Chinese movie buffs swoon over Keira Knightley but not Reese Witherspoon? Both are movie-star gorgeous and both have acting chops to boot. You can cite the works they appear in because their public personas are invariably molded by the roles they take on. And the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise is certainly a widely watched platform for Knightley to strut her stuff.

But there is more than hit movies at work here. Shia LaBeouf and Mark Walberg are in the Transformers movies, which got astronomical returns at China's box office, yet their name recognition in China is probably less than that of Wentworth Miller, whose only memorable role is in Prison Break.

Like Ken Takakura, Miller was lucky that his TV series entered the Chinese realm at a special moment, in this case when video content began to be streamed or downloaded en masse and thus made available to a new generation growing up with the Internet. Had he appeared five years later, though, the impact would have been much diminished because Chinese netizens by then were swamped with a plethora of programming choices. Unlike Takakura, Miller turned out to be a one-trick pony who is largely forgotten in his own country.

In business parlance, both actors enjoyed first-mover advantage, coming into a market that had just been opened. Obviously, the meaning of "open" here is hard to define. Your movie could be screened in cinemas and fail to attract an audience of significant size, or it might not find any distributors but somehow stumble upon a huge following, often through a channel newly available and not yet noticed by mainstream distributors.

Right now, if you could tailor-make a show for the fragmentary viewership of the mobile gadget, you would be able to win a viewer base unrivaled by any traditional media.

When debating cross-cultural appeal, two camps usually emerge: One is for sameness, and the other differences. The former argues that, despite our surface differences, human nature is fundamentally the same, which makes possible the appreciation of stories and characters from faraway lands; the latter values the things that set us apart and identify us as who we are.

Both sides, as I see it, have a valid point - if that point is not stretched too far. We may have different skin colors and speak different languages, but deep down we share so much. At the same time, we have all kinds of differences, not just from one country to another, but also from one village to another. If we churn out uniform cultural works, it would certainly facilitate communication - but at the cost of variety. At the other extreme, if differences are highlighted without the foundation of shared emotions and values, watching a foreign film would be like scrutinizing an archaeological relic.

The trick is in the ratio: When we go to an imported movie or stage show, we expect a certain level of unfamiliarity. But it should not be so much that the process of watching becomes arduous or even painful. On the other hand, a sense of ennui may arise if it does not contain anything exotic. That probably explains the failure of Disney's Chinese remake of High School Musical. It took the edge off the original, which had gained a loyal fan base in China, without adding any Chinese elements that would be deemed striking.

In recent years, Hollywood has been experimenting with cameo appearances by Chinese stars in their franchise movies. It is an obvious attempt to enlarge the common base, so to speak, so that Chinese filmgoers may find one more thing endearing to them. However, the reverse does not seem to work: Hollywood's big names in Chinese movies, such as Zhang Yimou's The Flowers of War, failed to make a dent in the US market, despite Christian Bale's role.

Very often, the difficulty lies in which foreign or new elements might go over well with an overseas audience. Westerns with cowboys, despite their universal themes, tend to put off most Chinese film lovers. A space western, as Guardians of the Galaxy is sometimes called, has proved to be no barrier in China even though much of the humor is lost in translation. Romance as a genre should transcend boundaries better than most, but, of the hundreds of movies flowing into China, only a handful, such as Roman Holiday, achieved classic status in China.

There is something about Audrey Hepburn that piqued Chinese fascination just as she did in the rest of the world, but possibly for different reasons. Her beauty is not bound by geography or culture. To the Chinese eye, she is Western, yet not too Western. The way she looks in that movie is perfect by Chinese standards as well. Now imagine the role played by a typical supermodel with exceedingly long legs and striking facial features, and I can guarantee it would not go over well in the Middle Kingdom.

The Chinese standard for feminine beauty, like the Chinese selection of foreign films per se, has a built-in balance of the exotic and the familiar. Sophie Marceau, another favorite in China, has a faint touch of Asianness in her face and posture, or so many Chinese believe. And if such foreign stars make their entrance at the right moment, they may well capture the Chinese heart no matter what works they star in.

When I look around at the advertising images of multinational corporations, it's clear to me that many have not got the message of cultural balance. But that's a topic for another day.

The writer is editor-at-large of China Daily. Contact him at raymondzhou@chinadaily.com.cn