The Forbidden Kingdom is a fun, light-hearted film for people interested in Chinese culture and its representation in popular culture in the West.  The movie features big names in Chinese cinema, including Jacky Chan and Jet Li, and both make the movie lots of fun.

The movie centers around a boy, Jason, who is something of a misfit because of his interest in kungfu movies and other geeky sorts of entertainments.  He gets sucked into his fantasy world via a DVD he finds in a pawn shop, the classic kungfu film The Ten Tigers of Guangdong.  It is fun to watch him try to make his way through the world of old China, as much as it is fun to see how that world looks through Western eyes.

The overall plot is a little cheesy, but that’s OK.  It’s not really about an impressive plot, but about the fun aspects of a good Jacky Chan and Jet Li movie — outstanding choreography in the action scenes, and a lot of laughs.  It is a fun movie all round.  Not a bad way to while away a couple of hours.

I first saw Chen Kaige’s The Promise on a plane a year or two ago.  The visuals were pretty good, and the fantasy atmosphere was pretty impressive.  All the same, the film didn’t really work well for me, and I could easily see why it wasn’t very warmly received in China.  The promise entered into by the orphan girl and the goddess, and the way it all works itself out, is probably a little too fairy tale-ish for Chinese audiences.

There are several scenes that impress in the film, and make it worth having a look at for viewers who are interested in Chinese cinema in general.  It was sad, though, to read about the criticism leveled at the film over the damage done in Yunnan during filming.  Many environmentalists complained that the filming crew not only damaged the land where the movie was shot, but also that a good deal of rubbish was left behind to continue doing damage.  This is made all the worse when compared to the great beauty seen in the film it self.  What a pity to bring any small amount of damage to such a gorgeous landscape.

The other night, I watched the film The City of Life and Death (also known as Nanjing! Nanjing!), which was released in April 2009.  Being pretty familiar with the Nanjing Massacre, I thought I knew what to expect from the film.  And in many respects, it was what I expected.  It showed the atrocities of war, the brutality of the Japanese soldiers in 1937, and the torment of the civilians (especially the women) in Nanjing at that time.  It shows disappointment, love, confusion, hope, and despair, all as expected.

What I did not expect, though, was the relatively sympathetic picture of one of the Japanese characters.  In Kadokawa, we get the idea that seeing what his compatriots were doing was not easy.  It is probably the first time that I’ve seen any representation by a Chinese artist that suggests that there might have been a Japanese soldier or two during that time that was not a complete monster.  I liked the way this was treated in the movie.

The filming of The City of Life and Death was very nicely done.  I really liked the choice to go with a black and white film.  Several of the shots look exactly like photos I’ve seen of Nanjing during the horrify days of December 1937.  It was put together in such a way, for the most part, that let the viewer feel as if those photos were coming to life on the screen.

Of all the things that impressed me, perhaps what I liked most (or at least, what most got me to thinking) was the dance of the Japanese soldiers toward the end of the film, with the practice scenes showed earlier.  It was a victory dance, but also a time to honor their own dead soldiers (as the white boxes and the placing of flowers and incense in front of the slabs with the names of the deceased suggest).  Kadokawa here, as through much of the film, provides us with a certain point of view that reminds us that there are two sides to what is going on amongst the Japanese.  The most obvious is the brutality and cruelty.  But there is also a matter of pride, honor, or something else that I can’t quite put a finger on.  And there is a feeling of sadness and meaninglessness that seems to underlie it all.  This one Japanese soldier in the midst of a whole lot who qualify as that monster of the stereotype serves to disrupt the whole image we have of the Japanese army and it’s bloodthirsty nature during that era.  It doesn’t, of course, bring the whole image tumbling down (and a look at history shows that the image is well-deserved), but it does remind us that at the individual level, there might have been things going on that are not recorded in the history books.  And for me, thinking of that makes the whole scene of the atrocities at Nanjing all the worse.

Kadokawa gives me just a little bit of hope.  Throughout the film, it is obvious that he identifies with the women.  In the early dance scene, when he is practicing, his friend says he is dancing the woman’s part.  His subsequent interactions with the prostitute, his sympathy with the comfort women, and especially his brief encounters with Jiang Laoshi all work to show us that, even in the worst of situations, there is a chance that one might just learn to identify with the Other, the oppressed and downtrodden who, without the sympathy and aid of those in a position to help, have no hope at all.  The help one soldier can offer might be rather paltry, but if there had been more Kadokawas, perhaps there would not have been a Rape of Nanjing.  The trick is figuring out how to duplicate that ability to identify with the Other in more and more of those who are in a position to either oppress or assist — and it has to be done one soldier at a time.

There’s a lot packed into this film.  I am glad I watched it.  I think it is a great movie, even though I know it is one that some more sensitive viewers would have a difficult time watching.  (It’s rough — obviously not for everyone.)  I am glad for the treatment the whole event receives in this fine movie.  I can only imagine the emotional turmoil Lu Chuan must have experienced when researching the film.  He did an excellent job of managing the difficult material, resulting in perhaps the best treatment this troubling event in history has ever received on film.  Certainly it is the best I have seen.

Even though Jay Chou is a better singer than actor, the acting in The Curse of the Golden Flower is pretty impressive — thanks not to Chou, but to Gong Li and Chow Yan Fatt.  While perhaps not among director Zhang Yimou’s best movies ever, it’s still one that gives plenty for viewers to think about.  The film is based on a Tang Dynasty poem entitled “Chrysanthemum,” and does a nice job of creating an engaging narrative in which to work through the ideas contained the poem.

It is hard to decide whether the more interesting power struggles are the political ones or the personal, mostly because the two are too closely intertwined.  There is, in this film, no personal relationship that does not have political implications, nor vice versa.  The intrigue that takes place in the various bedrooms, and in every room throughout the Imperial Palace, is complicated and difficult to keep track of throughout the film.

Chow and Gong are always entertaining to watch, and each brings an illustrious career to the table.  Neither disappoints in this film, demonstrating with great range why they are both so well respected in Chinese cinema circles.  The supporting cast, for the most part, likewise does quite a nice job.  Chou is the least impressive, but I suppose that’s alright, since the song he’s attached to the film made it so big.

The relationship between Emperor Ping and his sons is complex, and somewhat troubling.  I like the way, overall, that the whole situation worked itself out, even if it was a little bloody.  The repeated idea of “what I do not give you, you must not attempt to take by force” works itself out in a very gripping tale with lots of twists and turns, and gives the viewer plenty to chew on when the film finishes.

Ip Man is a biopic about Bruce Lee’s martial arts master, Yip Man.  It is set in the 1930s and ’40s, depicting a dramatized version of the events of Yip’s life during the Japanese occupation of Foshan, China, where he taught martial arts.  In real life, Yip was a master of Wing Chun, and became the first to teach this form of martial arts.  The film portrays both his personal life and his public life in beautiful form, and a sequel is already in the works (one that will prominently feature a young Bruce Lee).  Yip Chun, Yip Man’s son who is important to the plot of the film, served as consultant in the movie’s making.

The movie is quite a touching portrayal of a life lived during a very difficult time in the world’s history.  The driving school of thought behind Yip’s actions is very compelling.  Seeing the combination of raw speed in the fight scenes with the slow, deliberate consideration of Yip’s persona creates the feeling that something seems to have been lost to our world today — and what a pity it is.  The depiction of this power under control, and the representation of it as something uniquely Chinese, demonstrates exactly why Chinese culture has long been both appealing and puzzling to many looking in on it from the outside. 

I will not divulge too much in the way of spoilers here, but I will say that Ip Man is a film very worth watching.  From the time I first saw the trailers (available at the website linked above), I knew it was one I wouldn’t miss, and I am very glad I did not.  I am sure, in fact, that I will see it several more times.  It is a very well-made movie.

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