In the world of creation, Stephen Fung has always been a lucid practitioner and a rational disruptor. His latest original anime project, Bucket Man, begins with a seemingly absurd premise — a superhero with a plastic bucket on his head. But this is not a whimsical invention; it is born from lived experiences, transforming a piece of collective memory familiar to Hongkongers into art and cultural creativity.
On the day of our interview, Stephen Fung walked into the Rosewood Hotel shoot with a smile that instantly lit up the room. Yet, once the cameras started rolling, his poetic obsession with every sliver of light came through. From wardrobe to lighting, backdrop to camera angle, his directorial instincts sharpened every detail, adding subtle layers and texture to the shoot.
Naturally, our conversation began with his latest creative venture, Bucket Man. The project’s origins themselves embody a storm of creative subversion. “It all started with a digital art piece. I saw a character with a bucket on his head, and I found it so amusing — it reminded me of that old red plastic bucket in my childhood home. It was so ‘Hong Kong,’ so everyday,” he explains.
Fung didn’t choose to start with an elaborate worldbuilding exercise or a complex character arc. Instead, he leaned into something incredibly simple, even silly: a bucket, no longer just a container, but a symbol. It represents adaptability, resourcefulness, and resilience — the Hong Kong spirit. “I don’t want this bucket to be too heavy a metaphor.
This anime hero is funny; he fights, but he also makes you think of your childhood — maybe your mom used that same bucket to wash dishes. If you connect, you’ll understand. If not, that’s fine too. It’s just a lighthearted anime; it doesn’t need to be overanalysed. What matters is that it’s bold, local, and distinctive — he can run across rooftops wearing flip-flops.” This light-touch attitude lies at the heart of Fung’s creative philosophy: creativity shouldn’t begin with too many assumptions or calculations. Instead, it should return to the most primal spark, the moment of genuine resonance.
Many people know Stephen Fung from films like Gen-X Cops or Tai Chi Zero, but in truth, humor and subversion have always run through his creative DNA. “I like work that is lighthearted, even a little offbeat. Overly didactic or solemn themes aren’t really my cup of tea. My first feature, Enter the Phoenix, and later House of Fury, even my early project Stephen’s Diary, all leaned toward humor, even outright comedy. Even when tackling something traditionally serious, like martial arts, I try to inject a twist or a subversive element. For example, when I made Tai Chi Zero, I added a dose of wild steampunk aesthetics.”
And he’s right — why must heroes always be tortured and tragic? Why must martial arts always feel heavy? This instinct to dismantle the solemn through humor has run across his career, shaping a distinct personal style. The tone of Bucket Man aligns more with Dr. Slump, early Dragon Ball, or the recent Sakamoto Days — action-packed, yes, but driven even more by humor. “We creators aren’t here to save the world or stop wars. We don’t need to take ourselves that seriously. Sometimes, embracing childlike playfulness actually connects us to people more deeply.” This isn’t just a stance on content, but a critique of the broader creative ecosystem: why must genres be boxed in? Why is comedy equated with a lack of seriousness? Fung shows us, through practice, that humor itself is a powerful creative weapon.
When speaking about creativity and cultural trends, Fung offers a sharp take on the concept of “icon”: “Being an icon isn’t just about success in one field. It’s about recognition and connection from the public.” He stresses that a true icon is forged through time and collective validation. “I can call myself a comedic genius, but if no one laughs, that’s just me flattering myself. Whether in music or fashion, an icon is something time and audiences must prove.” For Fung, icons cannot be manufactured; they emerge only through endurance. “You have to weather storms and still hold your ground before people recognize you as an icon.” This definition reflects his deep grasp of creative work — true classics must withstand time, not just hype.
He uses Bucket Man as an example: “This project wasn’t born from asking, ‘What does the market want?’ It began with a digital artwork I loved, then grew into a story I wanted to tell. If I had asked whether the market wanted a ‘bucket hero,’ this would never have happened.”
From the humble red bucket to his critique of algorithm-driven creativity, Fung’s creative journey embodies a calm yet unshakable resistance against convention — or, in Cantonese slang, “Old Fung refuses to be too old Fung.” “Chinese culture often judges by appearances — long hair means you’re a troublemaker, being a doctor or lawyer means you’re successful. That thinking bleeds into creation too: anime should look this way, movies should look that way, superheroes wear spandex, martial artists wear flowing robes. But creativity is about breaking that inertia. Why can’t a bucket be a hero? Why can’t humor have depth? Why must we always follow formulas for success?” He concludes, “Creativity isn’t about subversion for its own sake; it’s about rediscovering the most authentic spark. Like that red bucket — it might not mean much to everyone, but if even one person remembers their own story because of it, then this creative revolution is worth it.”
And speaking of creativity and culture, Fung has taken Bucket Man further by partnering with Hong Kong’s godfather of designer toys, Michael Lau, who hasn’t released a new figure in years. This collaboration itself is a cross-disciplinary experiment. “Michael hasn’t made a new figure in ages. This time, we took a digital comic character, turned it into a physical model, then brought it back into anime — the entire process is a cycle of creativity.” Fung emphasizes that this isn’t just a crossover collaboration, but a shared exploration of what “trend” really means. “People think being trendy is about what clothes you wear or music you listen to. But to me, ‘trend’ is a mindset — are you open to new things? Do you understand why young people make the choices they do?” Vinyl records coming back, for example, isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s a rebellion against algorithm-driven playlists. “Young people don’t want to be told what to listen to — they want to decide. That attitude itself is ‘trend.’”
In an era dominated by algorithms, categories, and frameworks, Stephen Fung and his Bucket Man remind us: creativity is never about meeting others’ expectations, but about climbing out of the bucket and seeing a bigger sky.
And this revolution has only just begun.
In a world where algorithms increasingly dictate content, creators face unprecedented challenges: Netflix lets data shape plotlines, social media measures success in clicks. How does Fung view this “algorithmic cage”? “It’s a dilemma. The general public may not mind choices being made for them — like Steve Jobs once said, consumers don’t know what they want until you show it to them. But true creatives, young people, they want to express themselves, they refuse to be labeled.” Algorithms, he believes, can be references, but never the scripture. “If you only follow data, all you’ll produce are cookie-cutter copies. Creativity’s value lies precisely in its immeasurability.”
Photography: Reuben Foong
Editorial Director: Jumius Wong
Creative Direction and Styling: Jenine Oh
Production Executive: Second Li
Producer: Carman Lam
Hair: Sev Tsang, Johnny Ho @ Hairculture
Makeup: Hetty Wong
Photographer’s assistant: Amos Lee, Kan Yuk
Lighting: Samuel Chan Tsz Ki
Lighting Assistant: Derek Li
Fashion Assistants: Sing Lei, Lok Chan
Location: Rosewood Hong Kong
Cover Wardrobe: Canali
Cover Watches & Jewellery: Bvlgari
