In this task, you are given news articles and you need to generate a highlight, i.e., a short summary, with a maximum length of 10 lines.

Input: Consider Input: HONG KONG, China (CNN) -- In the decade since the 1997 handover of Hong Kong to China, local movie-makers have faced daunting changes in the industry. A trend of fewer films being produced each year in Hong Kong at the time of the handover has continued into the 21st century. Stephen Chow's "Shaolin Soccer" is one of Hong Kong's all-time top-grossing films. People in Hong Kong's industry point to several causes for the comparatively leaner times: a lack of opportunities for new acting talent, inadequate training and schooling for people who produce movies and changing tastes within the Hong Kong public. At the same time, local film-makers have had to refocus their cameras for a new audience: mainland China. "The Hong Kong film industry came to a rude awakening [in the late 1990s] that the world was changing faster than it was in the age of new delivery systems for home entertainment and the Internet," says Bede Cheng, a local film archivist and curator. "Unfortunately, it seemed to be blinded by the 'golden age' of the '80s, where any film could easily rack in over $1.3 million." The box office numbers are sobering. In the early 1990s, Hong Kong released around 200 local features a year. By 1997, that number dropped to 85 films grossing $69 million, according to the Hong Kong, Kowloon and New Territories Motion Picture Industry Association (MPIA). By 2006, those figures slumped to 51 films grossing $37 million. Ten years ago, the top 10 grossing films accounted for 47 percent of the total box-office return; today, the portion is 58 percent. "1997, unfortunately, coincides with the beginning of the collapse of the local film industry -- a well-documented fact," says screenwriter Jimmy Ngai. "On the other hand, it also commenced the opening up of the mainland market. "The result is that the industry has grown more and more accustomed to looking north for both investment and box return -- nothing political, but more of a survival instinct. What needs not to be spelt out for film-makers venturing north is that one plays according to what goes with the territory." The new Chinese market has translated into an emphasis in contrasts of Hong Kong-made films, says film archivist Cheng. "Today production is down, with many majors like Chinastar and Golden Harvest scaling back," he says. "Most films are high-end productions with big stars, or low-end made with a shoestring budget for an easier return. "The number of screens is also down, with the consolidation of more multiplexes, usually owned or partly owned by distributors, which already have a steady supply of foreign films to fill the screens. Some once video distributors like Mei Ah and Universe have gone into production as a way to keep the pipeline flowing." In 2006, Hong Kong closed five small cinemas and re-opened one multiplex. Gary Mak, director of Broadway Cinematheque -- Hong Kong's last-remaining alternative-screening venue -- remains optimistic about more adventurous programming and distribution. But Mak points to a shortage of creativity in the local industry. "No talents, no formal training, in most areas such as script-writing, directing, acting, etc," he says. "Even the independent scene still needs more real talents -- or at least, real producers to pull together a really good project." Tim Youngs, Hong Kong consultant for Italy's Far East Film Festival, says changing tastes among Hong Kong movie-goers has also affected the industry. "Audiences have become increasingly dismissive of local movies, often referring to them as poor quality, and there are much fewer paying cinemagoers these days. "So the hometown audience shows less support for local movies, whether by not seeing local films or opting for piracy, while the declining number of films means less opportunities for film-makers, fewer chances to try out new things, and damage to confidence." Elizabeth Kerr, film critic and curator formerly based in Seoul, South Korea, agrees with Youngs' assessment. "For all the risk-taking businessmen out there [in Hong Kong], no one is willing to put their money where their mouth is and throw in some support. "The industry for the most part suffers from the cleave between that fluff -- which makes money -- and the more adult film-making of the smaller studios, distributors and indies." How is South Korea's film industry different from its Hong Kong counterpart? "The drive to attain world adoration," Kerr says. "Koreans truly believe they're making great art all the time. South Korea launched an active campaign on all levels -- corporate, government, education -- to train and cultivate a modern film industry." Still, Kerr sees reason for optimism. Films that best retain a Hong Kong style, Kerr maintains, likely carry "Category III" (under 18 not allowed) ratings: Movies that are "grown up and smart," she says. "Even if the films don't work, someone tried." In the end, it may be culture that poses one of the greatest challenges for Hong Kong's movie industry. "Around 1997, like lots of Hong Kong people, I kind of lost myself," says independent film-maker Chan Wing-chiu. "The film industry was already almost dead in the '90s. Why work for a sunset industry?" Chan's own first feature in 2005, "A Side, B Side, Sea Side," includes a scene with a gaggle of girls on Hong Kong's Cheung Chau island who are unable to communicate in Chinese with an Australian man speaking fluent Mandarin. The two parties end up conversing in English. "That's me," says Chan, referring to the girls. "I speak English better than Putonghua [China's official common language, also known as Mandarin]. Many Chinese say that now that Hong Kong is part of China, Hong Kong people must learn Putonghua. I disagree. In Hong Kong we all speak Cantonese. Hong Kong already has a bad reputation for Putonghua, but I don't feel ashamed. I'm proud to have grown up during the transition between 1997 and SAR. "Why do we have so many problems with China? Because our language, our culture, our values, our way of thinking are different. So we are not good at speaking Putonghua. Even in the cinema, we see Western movies, Japanese movies, Korean movies... but not many Chinese movies." Adds independent director Yan-yan Mak: "We are monsters. China says: 'You are not Chinese.' Gweilos [Hong Kong slang for Caucasians] say: 'You are Chinese.' After 1997, we lost the confidence to be Hong Kong people." E-mail to a friend .

Output: Hong Kong film production has dropped almost 75 percent since early 1990s .
Mainland investment and market influences quality of Hong Kong films .
Problems include few opportunities for new talents and little audience support .


Input: Consider Input: ATLANTA, Georgia (CNN)  -- Dressed head to toe in black, designer Isaac Mizrahi is wearing an outfit that seems to contradict his personality -- and his usual fashion flair. Isaac Mizrahi has earned four awards from the Council of Fashion Designers of America. "I always start with color when I'm designing things. Always. If the color is right, I feel better," he touts on his Web site. But Mizrahi has an explanation for his less than colorful attire on a recent visit to CNN Center in Atlanta. "We have this very quick trip, and we have to go right back and there's no time to pack and we can't check luggage ... so I focused it to black, gray and white." It's just one more style tip you can pick up from Mizrahi's new book "How to Have Style" (Gotham). Despite the slightly audacious title, Mizrahi, who has won four awards from the Council of Fashion Designers of America, has earned the right to tell women how to dress. For five years, the New York fashion designer has been selling low-priced clothing and home furnishings at Target. But with his new book comes a new job -- as the creative director of Liz Claiborne. CNN talked to Mizrahi about his love for theater, the most common fashion mistakes and why bad flowers are never OK. The following is an edited version of that interview: . CNN: You started in acting at the High School of the Performing Arts. How do you combine that love and your love for design? Isaac Mizrahi: Well, you know what, I think it's all theater. I think that fashion is a form of entertainment. And I think that these days, as a fashion designer, it's almost like you represent a political party or something. Like women say, "Oh, that's a brand name I associate with because I've worn it before. I love it. It seems to fulfill who I am really easily." Whatever it is, she knows that it just makes her life really easy so she associates with it, you know? And in the end, I am like this personality that represents that.  Watch Mizrahi talk about his new book » . But more than that, I have designs [in] the entertainment business. There's a movie called "Unzipped" about me that was a really successful movie. I had two TV series. I design costumes constantly for theater and ballet and opera. So to me it's all one big world. It's seamless to me. CNN: What's your daily schedule like? It has to be crazy with all that you do. Mizrahi: It changes every day, and I really like that. There's a base to it. I wake up, I go swimming every day, and I eat the same breakfast almost every single day. But when I get to work is when it changes up. Some days I work in the showroom; some days I work in the design room; some days I actually work in my own private studio, where I just do sketches and sketches and sketches. Other days I work in the TV studio taping segments and my Web show. I don't really love travel. I feel like it really disrupts what I love doing most, which is this creation, you know what I mean? When I finally let myself enjoy it, I can enjoy traveling. But it takes a great agony for me to separate from New York City and my studios and the people that I work with. CNN: Say you're walking down the street. What's the most common style error that you see in people? Mizrahi: I see a lot, a lot, a lot of bad hair. I would say that's the most common style error I see is bad hair. You know people have excuses for bad shoes -- because you know some people have back problems, it is the street and they're walking and walking and walking -- but I do think that people have no excuse for bad hair. Because you know what? There's a hat, if your hair is really that bad that day. But I always think that women should be encouraged to spend a lot of money on their hair. It's like you should spend your most money ... on your hair. You'd think I had a chain of hair salons, but I don't. [Laughter]. CNN: What about in home furnishing? You do a line for Target that's ending this year. What's the most common mistake people make there? Mizrahi: You know what it is with people? I think people get lazy when it comes to being at home -- they leave things around. I like to think about cabinets. I like to put things away as much as possible. It's like salt shakers on the table? No. You put the salt shakers in a cabinet, and the table looks so much better when it's plain. You know what I mean? And people just think that bad flowers are better than nothing, but I disagree with that. I think that nothing is way better than bad flowers. You either have gorgeous, gorgeous flowers, or you have no flowers. Like at a dinner party, I prefer no flowers usually to the flowers that people have on the table. That's awful, but it's true. CNN: How has your personal style evolved over time? Mizrahi: It's gotten a lot quieter, my personal style. I used to dress, dress, dress, dress, dress, and I don't know, I dress in a very particular way now and it's almost like clockwork. And every once in a while I break out and do something crazy. CNN: Can you describe your personality for me, and how it affects your style? Mizrahi: I don't know. It's very hard to describe one's personality. I can't say about my personality, but I like to think that I'm very exposed to what's going on out there in the world culturally, and that's what influences my design. It's kind of like here's the 360 degrees of what's going on [in] the world culturally, you know? Socioeconomically, culturally, and here's my response to it. Here's what the clothes look like; here's what you should be wearing. And it's kind of like a wonderful edge, you're standing, and yet there's room enough in there for your own interpretation or to move in one direction or another. Oh! Here's a good description of my personality: claustrophobic. I am very claustrophobic. I don't like to commit to one thing necessarily, but when I do commit to it, it's whole and complete.

Output: Designer Isaac Mizrahi moving from Target to creative director at Liz Claiborne .
Mizrahi says he believes "bad hair" is the most common style mistake  Designer says he prefers no flowers to "bad" ones .
Mizrahi admits he has a "claustrophobic" personality .


Input: Consider Input: Bogota, Tennessee (CNN) -- Those who say no man is an island never met Danny Hayes. The 61-year-old retired construction supervisor lives in Bogota, Tennessee, a farming community so small that when asked how to find the town, locals respond, "Don't blink." Hayes' trailer in Bogota is about seven miles from the Mississippi River. Historic flooding across the region brought "the Old Muddy" much closer to him. The two-room trailer is more than 5 feet off the ground, but the river's invasion reaches Hayes' door and, at its height, threatened to evict him. "There's the possibility the trailer could shift, could turn. Could flip over," Hayes said, standing on the trailer's small porch. "Then again, I am not worried about that because I will get out." The Mississippi's flooding has already forced hundreds to flee small towns like Bogota to cities like Memphis. And meteorologists say the heavy rainfall across the South could mean weeks more of high water. Whatever comes, Hayes said he will not be moved. "I'd say for the average person who grew up in towns, you'd be in a dangerous situation," he said. "I'd say a person who learned to live off the land and to survive, it's not a big thing." The one acre of land Hayes retired to is no longer recognizable to him. Groves of pecan trees now stand half-covered in water. Homes abandoned by neighbors sit in several feet of dank and stinking water. To get to dry ground, Hayes paddles a small boat about 50 yards to Highway 78. Once on shore, he then walks the half-mile to town each day for a pack of cigarettes and a little conversation. The homes around Hayes' trailer sit empty, but as he waits out the flood, he is hardly alone. Since the waters began to rise, Hayes said, all manner of animals have swum by the trailer, looking for higher ground. The snakes, he shoots. "It's illegal to kill snakes in Tennessee," he said with a serious look before breaking into a wide smile. "Unless it's for your own protection." The nine-shot revolver with a long barrel that Hayes keeps close also works to ward off other predators. Empty homes in the rural area could make for an inviting target for looters, he said. But his and his neighbors' homes are safe, Hayes said, while he patrols his small "island." To make his point, Hayes suddenly shoots the pistol three times in sudden succession into the invading waters. "I am a crazy old man," he said with a laugh, "And I will shoot the hell out of you, and I am serious about that." As he waits for the waters to retreat, Hayes' family checks in with him regularly by cell phone. His two sons and their families fret about his decision to ride out the flood. But Hayes said he never considered leaving. He's too stubborn. So stubborn he married and divorced the same woman three times before they finally called it quits. Too stubborn "to run for the hills over some water." "Rescue all them poor people and don't worry about this 61-year-old man," he said. "Don't waste no 911 on me." But with the water slowly receding, it appears that Hayes will be spared from the flood's wet grasp. Still, it could be another week, he predicted, before Bogota begins to dry out. Asked what he will do while the floodwaters retreat, Hayes replied with a ready joke. "I got to sell this here land," he said, "while it's still waterfront property!" CNN's Sara Weisfeldt contributed to this report.


Output: Danny Hayes, 61, lives in Bogota, Tennessee .
The flooded Mississippi River has reached the door of his two-room trailer .
Armed with his revolver, he is refusing to evacuate .
"I got to sell this here land while it's still waterfront property," he jokes .