Curse of the Golden Flower: Making Matters 'Curse'

In the course of Hollywood history, movie genres have grown from the the lower regions, among the ticket buyers and popcorn munchers, in the Saturday matinees and with the dime store, penny-a-word trash classics. The Western was the first of these, making its movie debut as early as the movies themselves, with The Great Train Robbery (1903). Not fifty years had gone by before some wise guy had the idea to take this ground-level idea and turn it into an impressive, blue-ribbon pageant, a noble, tasteful new object worthy of respect. These came in the form of High Noon (1952) and Shane (1953), praised through word of mouth, as Westerns for people who don't ordinarily like Westerns. Critics ate them up. And, if you'll notice, the Western genre is more or less gone.

The same thing happened to musicals. As soon as pictures learned to talk and all through the 1950s, musicals ruled, and plenty of great, small ones crooned and tapped their way across screens, much to the unfettered joy of fans. But in the 1960s, the graceless, inflated, gargantuan West Side Story (1961) -- a musical for people who don't ordinarily like musicals -- came along. And now the musical is more or less gone (and, I'm sorry, but Dreamgirls doesn't count).


Now, we're witnessing the death of the martial arts movie, and Zhang Yimou's Curse of the Golden Flower is one of the first -- and perhaps one of the last -- coffin nails. Martial arts movies first crossed over to the U.S. in the early 1970s with Bruce Lee. Like the Western and the musical, they appealed mainly to converted fans -- with their bad dubbing, noisy soundtracks and the fact that they only played in the seediest and most out-of-the-way theaters. The tradition continued throughout the 1990s, as fans sought badly transferred videos and DVDs, or turned up at revival houses to catch their favorite films. When something like Rumble in the Bronx (1996) came to theaters, it remained a present for fans, complete with its bad dubbing and laughable production values.

Ang Lee changed all that with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000). It took the genre, slowed it down and decorated it with pretty baubles. Suddenly the mainstream media began getting excited about "the martial arts" film, as if, finally, there was a "good" one. Lee has moved on, but Zhang has contributed three more of these pageants to cinema history. I consider his Hero (made in 2002, released in 2004) the genuine article, since it had the good fortune to cast the formidable Jet Li in the lead role. When he moves, jumps, kicks or spins, you'd better believe it's for real. But House of Flying Daggers (2004) tried to accomplish the same thing with mere actors and failed miserably, although you'd never notice from reading the reviews; most critics lumped the two films together as twin masterworks. Zhang's Curse of the Golden Flower is even slower and more ridiculous. Frankly, not even Chow Yun-fat and Gong Li, two of the world's most impressive actors, can inject any dazzle into this dud.

Chow plays the Emperor, circa the tenth century, who arrives home just before the start of a big annual festival. All manner of intrigue abounds; the Emperor is slowly poisoning the Empress, and she is secretly sleeping with her stepson, Crown Prince Wan (Liu Ye). Wan is in love with Chan (Li Man), the daughter of the Imperial Doctor (Ni Dahong), who is in charge of slipping the poison to the Empress. The Emperor and the Empress have two sons of their own, Prince Jai (Jay Chou), who dotes on his mother, and the younger Prince Yu (Qin Junjie).

The festival is the turning point for everything; everyone has a secret plan that will unfurl. Instead, Zhang treats us to endless, soulless and completely un-thrilling battle sequences made up of faceless CGI figures hurling thousands of spears over a wall. Lots of people die, and lots of blood spills, but the minutes do not tick by any faster.

The main problem here is that Zhang is a staid director, best known for his use of colors, and more suited to still, quiet images than to action. Hero was divided up into neat, color-coded set pieces that worked beautifully, but Curse of the Golden Flower is confusing sludge. This problem is exacerbated by the fact that Curse of the Golden Flower is based on a play (by Cao Yu), and Zhang has decided to remain slavishly devoted to its pages rather than having a bit of fun. It's like a droning, extended Hamlet, when it could have had a bit of bounce.
Thus, history repeats itself: What started decades ago like a fight song has now turned into a dirge.

::this article is officially published at www.cinematical.com

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Movie Review: Curse of the Golden Flower

In the ten years since Chinese director Zhang Yimou (Hero, House of Flying Daggers) and his one-time muse and mistress, actress Gong Li (Memoirs of a Geisha, Miami Vice), parted personal and professional ways, their respective careers have flourished, crossing international film barriers. It was together, however, that they created a series of memorable masterpieces (Ju Dou, Raise the Red Lantern, Shanghai Triad) - films which relied less on traditional Chinese martial artistry and instead, engaged audiences with compelling narratives and cinematic beauty. The historical epic, Curse of the Golden Flower (which marks their first reunion in over a decade), is no exception. Lush with lavish costumes and exotic set designs, Yimou intricately weaves wuxia martial arts with tragedian elements of passion, betrayal, incest, fratricide and murder in order to create an eye-popping extravaganza about the familial decay beneath the gold and jaded walls of the Imperial Palace. And it is no surprise, that his most precious Flower, the incomparable Li, is at the center of it all.

Adapted from one of China’s most famous plays (Cao Yu’s Thunderstorm), Curse of the Golden Flower takes place during the flamboyant Tang Dynasty, circa 928 A.D. On the eve of the Chong Yang Festival, the cold-hearted and chauvinistic Emperor Ping (Chow Yun Fat), along with his second-born son, Prince Jai (Jay Chou), return from a three-year battle with the Mongols. The royal bed has hardly gone cold during his absence, however, for the Empress Phoenix (Li) has been keeping warm with the Crown Prince Wan (Liu Ye), the Emperor’s first-born, from a previous marriage. Although heir to the throne, the less-than-political Wan prefers to evade the deadly ramifications of such love triangles and run away with Chan (Li Man), both the Empress’ servant and daughter to the Imperial Physician (Ni Dahong). Unbeknownst to Prince Wan, however, the Emperor’s faithful have already advised him of the illicit affair.

Rather than confront the adulteress, the Emperor orders the doctor to add black fungus to his wife’s daily medicine; a deadly concoction that will slowly, and painfully, cause her to lose all mental faculties. (And you thought your family was dysfunctional.) Problem is, an unlikely source (Chen Jin) has already advised the Empress of her husband’s diabolical design (a confidante who also proffers family-shattering insight into the tangled web of deceit woven by the Emperor during his rise to power). Thus, with every mandated sip, the Empress aligns a bloody coup that will ultimately pin son against son, son against father and husband against wife.

Martial arts enthusiasts looking for non-stop, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon-esque action, be forewarned: Curse of the Golden Flower plays more like a slow-moving Shakespearean drama, almost devoid of hand-to-hand combat, building psychological tension until it finally explodes in a bitter bloodbath. And even then, the computer-generated armies are less than awe-inspiring. Rest assured, however, that even though martial arts is merely a supporting actor, there are some scenes to behold: the black-cloaked ninjas descending through a mountain pass are, for lack of a better word, awesome; when the steely-eyed Emperor takes on his weak, third son, Prince Yu (Qin Junjie), the beating is brutal; and when a blood-soaked Jai approaches the palace door shielding his father, your heart races, imagining what is to come.

But for what Curse of the Golden Flower lacks in martial artistry, it makes up for in beauty. A $45 million production bathed in pure opulence (the most expensive in Chinese film-history), every inch of every frame is drenched in gold (symbol of economic power) - walls, carpeting, wardrobes, fingernails, the endless sea of chrysanthemums that line the courtyard, even the lips that dare not speak of the atrocities that occur within the royal family’s gilded cage. Although the kaleidoscope of color, at times, nearly swallows its characters, it is a constant and chilling reminder of how even the most self-imploding feudal family must always present a facade of strength and family unity. (The most dramatic example occurs post-slaughter. Watch how after the chrysanthemums are covered in blood and thousands of bodies are strewn across the courtyard, palace servants immediately haul the carnage away, scrub the blood-soaked tiles and replace each and every pot with fresh, blooming chrysanthemums.)

Recorded in Mandarin Chinese with English subtitles, the commanding performances of Gong Li and Chow Yun Fat require no spoken words; be it a defiant stare, a change in posture or a stroke of the beard, their facial and physical expressions speak over and above what the written dialogue can offer. And while Junjie and Ye are, unfortunately, less effective as book-end princes, the only character to upstage this Asian-royalty is the royal wardrobe, itself.

Nominated for an Academy Award, costume-designer Yee Chung Man ensured that his oppressed army of female servants looked stunning while tightly bound, his Empress’ robes could swallow the five servants required to administer her deadly tea, and his males were draped in astounding garb that only reinforce their palatial dominance. (In fact, it took a team of forty, over a two month period, just to embroider the layers of gold necessary for the Dragon Robe and Phoenix Gown adorned during the Chrysanthemum Festival.) Even more astonishing is the “choreography” of the wardrobe. Ornate hair pins fly, releasing Li’s hair when she encounters a struggle; the Emperor’s train swirls violently behind him when he becomes enraged; when the crowns are adorned, strength is invigorated; and when blood touches the Empress’ embroidered chrysanthemum scarves, it symbolizes her own blood to be shed.

No one can deny that the final chapter of Yimou’s wuxia martial arts trilogy, Curse of the Golden Flower, offers a haunting yet visually intoxicating view into the opulence, and decadence, that pervaded the insular palace-world of the Tang Dynasty. A breed of ancient tragedy mixed with pure eye candy, this film is packed with intense, emotional story-lines, veteran performances from Asia’s leading actors and the most luxurious costumes and set designs to grace the screen. And while many action-oriented fans will find that its melodramatic pace, color-drenched palate, host of unanswered questions and less than breathtaking fight scenes cause it to wilt in comparison to its martial arts predecessors, Yimou’s faithful will immediately recognize that Curse of the Golden Flower has blossomed from unique garden of films planted by Yimou and Li years ago. As such, it should neither be compared nor tampered with, but merely admired for the beauty it possesses.

Brandi L. James
www.franksreelreviews.com

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