Hong Kong Director Kiwi Chow Faces Career Sabotage Over Dissenting Film ‘Deadline’

Asia Daily
10 Min Read

Hong Kong Director Targeted Over Dissenting Film

In Hong Kong, public criticism of the government has largely vanished, yet one filmmaker continues to speak out despite facing increasing professional consequences. Kiwi Chow, a 46-year-old director known for politically charged works, recently learned that the latest film of his production company, “Deadline”, would not receive approval for public exhibition in his home city. The film censorship authority cited national security concerns for the refusal, marking another instance of how the film industry faces tightening restrictions under the National Security Law imposed by Beijing in 2020. The film stars veteran Hong Kong actor Anthony Wong and explores the intense academic pressure facing high school students and the resulting mental health crisis. While filmed in Taiwan and set in an unnamed Asian city, Chow believes authorities targeted him personally rather than the content. “They do not want to arrest me, but they want to destroy my creative career,” Chow said from his home in Hong Kong.

Chow announced he would not appeal the decision, viewing the process as futile given the current political climate. In a statement, he expressed frustration at the situation. “This film is the hard work and dedication from so many people. It is heartbreaking to all of us. When confronted with injustice and absurdity, we feel helpless, and anger seems to be inevitable.”

“In response to this the unfair judgement, my reaction is: I will stick to my filming path.”

Shelly Kraicer, an independent cinema curator specializing in Chinese film, noted that Chow stands apart for his willingness to directly address the political constraints he faces. “It is striking that he does not shy away from addressing quite directly the political constraints that he perceives he is under,” Kraicer observed. The situation highlights the shrinking space for artistic expression in the region. This climate of fear has permeated the industry since the imposition of the security law.

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The Expansion of Censorship Powers

Film censorship in Hong Kong has changed dramatically since Beijing imposed the National Security Law in June 2020. In October 2021, legislators passed amendments to the Film Censorship Ordinance, authorizing the chief secretary of the city to ban productions deemed to undermine national security. The legislation also increased penalties for unauthorized screenings to a maximum of three years imprisonment and a fine of HK$1 million. Under the new rules, film censors must actively assess whether productions might endanger national security during the approval process.

The guidelines instruct examiners to guard against content that could be perceived as endorsing, supporting, promoting, glorifying, encouraging or inciting acts of secession, subversion, terrorism, or collusion with foreign forces. Critics argue these vague criteria create uncertainty and encourage widespread self-censorship. The law requires censors to consider the “objective and reasonable” perception of the content, a standard that is difficult to predict.

The Statistics of Suppression

According to official data, the impact has been measurable. Between November 2021 and July 2025, authorities reviewed over 39,000 films. During this period, 50 productions were required to make edits due to national security considerations, and 13 titles were denied approval entirely. While this represents a small percentage of total submissions, the shift from the previous era is stark. In the five years before the law was amended, no films were barred from screening.

Officials have declined to release a list of the banned films or explain the specific reasons for each decision. The Office for Film, Newspaper and Article Administration stated that disclosing such information would harm public order and the efficient operation of the department. This opacity leaves filmmakers uncertain about where the boundaries lie. The lack of transparency means directors must guess what might trigger a ban, leading to a cautious approach to storytelling.

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Economic Fallout and Industry Fear

The political changes have created substantial economic challenges for filmmakers in Hong Kong. Investors have grown increasingly risk-averse, fearing that association with controversial directors or politically sensitive topics could jeopardize their business interests in mainland China. Chow experienced this firsthand when working on his romantic drama “Say I Do To Me”. Investors withdrew 80% of the HK$8 million funding for the project, and the main actor dropped out due to concerns about political risk.

“Actors under the Hong Kong film companies are very afraid, and this fear shadows everything,” Chow explained. “This is what makes it scary, it does not need to suppress you directly, but it has already made all these people scared.” Several actors told Chow that their contracts now include provisions barring them from making speeches that violate the National Security Law or cooperating with people considered political risks. These contractual restrictions use economic pressure to silence potential criticism before it can be expressed publicly.

Government funding has also become more restrictive. Since 2005, Hong Kong has injected HK$1.54 billion into the Film Development Fund. However, Culture Secretary Kevin Yeung warned in 2021 that funds would not be allocated to projects that might infringe the National Security Law. For many independent filmmakers, access to public financing now seems nearly impossible. Faced with these constraints, some filmmakers have adapted by shifting production overseas or focusing on non-political content. Chow filmed “Deadline” in Taiwan with partial government funding there. The film was released in Taiwan on November 7, where it could reach audiences without censorship restrictions.

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Social Pressures and Academic Silence

The themes in “Deadline” connect to broader changes in Hong Kong society, particularly in education. The film explores student suicides caused by academic pressure, but Chow believes the situation has worsened because national security is now part of the school curriculum. “What happens when history, society and truth need to be distorted in school? Teachers cannot talk about it, students cannot talk about it,” Chow explained. “They feel that despite what is happening in society, the truth is distorted.”

During research for the film, Chow spoke with a physical education teacher struggling to incorporate national security elements into sports lessons. This pressure on educators reflects a broader trend of ideological control throughout institutions in Hong Kong since the National Security Law took effect. The education sector has seen significant changes, with libraries removing books and teachers facing warnings for discussing sensitive topics.

The Fire and Government Accountability

The recent Wang Fuk Court fire, which killed at least 160 people in November, became another test of how authorities handle dissent in the new era. Less than two weeks after the blaze, Hong Kong held legislative council elections where only government-vetted candidates could stand. With questions swirling about government accountability for the fire, voter turnout reached a near-record low of 31.9%. Chow was among those who chose not to vote, viewing it as the only safe way to express dissatisfaction.

He also spoke publicly about systemic issues contributing to the disaster, criticizing collusion between officials and businesses, poor construction standards, and lax oversight. “How long must Hong Kong endure this?” he asked publicly. In the aftermath, several people were arrested for alleged national security offences, including a student who started an online petition calling for government accountability. The construction company responsible for renovation work at the site has not commented publicly, while the consultancy firm reportedly closed. Directors from both companies have been arrested.

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A History of Dissent

The current situation for Chow stems from years of politically engaged filmmaking. He first gained international recognition as co-director of the 2015 dystopian anthology “Ten Years”, which imagined a future Hong Kong under increasing CCP influence. Despite winning Best Picture at the Hong Kong Film Awards, some cinemas refused to screen the film due to its controversial content. The segment directed by Chow, “Self-immolator”, questioned how much Hong Kong residents would sacrifice for freedom and justice, a theme he felt was answered during the 2019 pro-democracy protests.

During those protests, Chow documented the unrest extensively, with footage eventually becoming “Revolution of Our Times”, a two-and-a-half-hour documentary filmed from the frontlines. The documentary premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 2021 and took its name from the banned protest slogan “Liberate Hong Kong, revolution of our times”. While the film brought Chow international acclaim, it never screened publicly in Hong Kong. The documentary drove away investors and nearly derailed “Deadline”, forcing Chow to seek funding and production support outside his home city.

The Personal Cost of Resistance

Chow acknowledges that he is fortunate not to have faced imprisonment for his work, especially in a society where people have been jailed for wearing “seditious” T-shirts. “It is ridiculous that I can still live in Hong Kong without being in jail,” he said, noting that his surprise is understandable given the current climate. The psychological toll remains significant. Chow has discussed the possibility of arrest with his wife and decided to use his freedom to speak out while he still can.

“Even if we left Hong Kong, the fear would linger,” he said, referring to the practice by Beijing of targeting critics overseas. “I want to stay in Hong Kong and get used to living with fear.” This personal resolve extends beyond his filmmaking. Despite the risks, he continues to criticize government handling of disasters and the erosion of freedoms, making him one of the few remaining voices of open dissent in the city.

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The Future of Hong Kong Cinema

Hong Kong was once known as the “Hollywood of the Far East” with a reputation for creative freedom and bold storytelling. That identity now faces an uncertain future. The film industry employs thousands of people and contributes significantly to the local economy, but political constraints are changing what kinds of stories can be told. While some directors like Ho Cheuk-Tin have chosen to focus on commercial topics like the real estate market to survive, others have chosen to leave. The exodus of talent and capital threatens the long-term viability of the industry as a hub for Asian cinema.

The case of “Deadline” illustrates how national security concerns now extend to content that would not previously have been considered political. The film deals with academic pressure and student mental health, issues common across East Asia. Yet in Hong Kong’s current climate, even these themes become entangled with broader questions about censorship and control. For Chow, the choice is clear. He remains in the city, continuing to film despite the obstacles, determined to document the reality of life in Hong Kong as long as he is able.

The Essentials

  • Hong Kong film director Kiwi Chow and the latest film from his production company, “Deadline”, were banned by authorities citing national security concerns.
  • The film explores student suicide and academic pressure but was filmed in Taiwan and set in an unnamed city.
  • Since 2021, Hong Kong has banned 13 films and required 50 others to make edits on national security grounds.
  • Investors and actors have become increasingly risk-averse due to vague censorship criteria.
  • Chow previously directed “Ten Years” (2015) and “Revolution of Our Times” (2021), both politically controversial.
  • The National Security Law has been used to restrict expression across arts, education, and media.
  • Hong Kong’s film industry faces challenges including funding restrictions, production shifts overseas, and self-censorship.
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