Zhang Yimou’s “Curse of the Golden Flower”: A Crisis in Costume Drama?
Zhang Yimou’s “Curse of the Golden Flower,” a film nominated for an Oscar for costume design, arrives on screens. This recognition by the Academy is no accident. It marks the sixth large-scale Chinese project in recent years to embrace the costume melodrama-action genre. “Flower” even set a domestic box office record in China, grossing approximately $35 million. However, there’s a growing sense that this particular film might be perceived as a turning point, a sign of fatigue with the increasingly formulaic genre.
The Visual Spectacle: Beauty Beyond Compare?
Following “Hero” and especially “House of Flying Daggers,” it seemed impossible for cinema to become any more visually stunning. Yet, “Curse of the Golden Flower” attempts to surpass them. In “Hero,” the sheer scale of the digitally created crowds rivaled even “Gladiator.” Each of the film’s three main sections is distinguished by a dominant color palette: blue, red, and white. The sight of Maggie Cheung and Zhang Ziyi dueling in the air amidst swirling red fabrics and yellow autumn leaves, or Cheung in blue against a backdrop of stark gray-blue mountains with a dazzling white horse, was breathtaking.
“House of Flying Daggers” presented a similar visual feast, juxtaposing three seasons within a single day: golden autumn in the forest scenes, summer with its diverse field vegetation, and winter, with a final scene set against beautifully falling snow stained with hot red blood. Zhang Yimou seemed unconcerned with logic, prioritizing emotional impact. He sought the perfect color for each shot, whether golden or snowy.
Golden Hues and Shakespearean Intrigue
In “Curse of the Golden Flower,” the dominant colors in the costumes and imperial palace interiors are gold, yellow, and red. Yellow chrysanthemums carpet the vast square in front of the Forbidden City. Gold adornments and brocades abound, and the Empress embroiders chrysanthemums with golden thread. The clash of gold against metallic hues is prominent in the grand battle scene, where tens of thousands of rebels in golden armor clash with the Emperor’s loyalists.
Against this vibrant backdrop, passions ignite, reminiscent of both Indian epics and Shakespearean tragedies. Alliances shift, and poison, daggers, and assassins are employed in a web of intrigue, jealousy, and power struggles within a complex family and romantic dynamic. As Jean-Luc Godard quipped after the Paris premiere, “O là là!”
Star Power and Familiar Tropes
The new Chinese blockbusters are elevated by their star power. “Curse of the Golden Flower” features Gong Li, returning to Zhang Yimou’s films and still captivating at 41, and Chow Yun-Fat, who, while no longer the dashing young killer of John Woo’s classic Hong Kong films, evokes Sergei Bondarchuk as Boris Godunov.
The first half of the film is static, filled with veiled glances and subtle hints within the transparent walls of the imperial palace, which, in truth, conceal no secrets. The second half is dominated by action. To the credit of Chinese directors, each film introduces new fighting styles and weapons. The final battle between rebels and loyalists rivals the mass battles of “The Lord of the Rings” in terms of digitally created bodies. Thus, “Curse of the Golden Flower” is not entirely original. Quentin Tarantino once boasted of learning from Yimou’s films; now, Yimou seems to have learned from Peter Jackson.
Ideology and the Eastern Tyrant
The film’s ideology is both questionable and admirable. While Hollywood’s historical films often stray far from historical accuracy, they are made by outsiders, not descendants of the ancient Greeks or Romans. The Chinese, however, are telling their own story, increasingly convincing themselves and the audience that this is how it truly was: unimaginable luxury, warriors in pure gold armor, and the ability to fly. Nowhere in the film’s descriptions is it stated that it is a legend based on historical facts. Instead, it is presented as a historical film set in the 10th century.
However, Zhang Yimou creates a composite portrait of a cunning and self-righteous Eastern tyrant, a figure relevant throughout history. The film answers the question: what is a classic Eastern emperor?
He is Ivan the Terrible to the hundredth power. He disregards the well-being of his people, justice, reward, and the immense human cost of war. He does not mourn the deaths of his heirs. His sole concern is that no one ever questions his authority. He attempts to corrupt his most worthy son, believing he is shaping him into a true emperor. He likely believes he is acting in the best interests of the country, as any challenge to his authority would irreparably damage the empire.
The People as a Swarm
Whether such an emperor is good for the people is irrelevant; the concept of “the people” is absent from the moral code of an empire builder. And the people themselves, according to Yimou, believe this approach is correct. Life is cheap. Notice how easily and in droves they go to fight, how obediently they die. After the bloody battle, trained thousands of other people appear, cleaning up the corpses, washing away the blood, and redecorating the battlefield with yellow chrysanthemums. They then begin to sing and dance in celebration, each knowing their role. At times, “Curse of the Golden Flower” resembles an adaptation of an absurdist play.
This vision of China is both fascinating (what beauty!) and frightening. China is vast. Perhaps too vast. And too close.