Coming Home (5 Stars)

Zhang Yimou's "Coming Home" (2014) presents a restrained yet emotionally resonant study of memory, trauma and enduring love in post-Cultural Revolution China. Departing from the visual spectacle that characterized his earlier works, Zhang adopts a subdued aesthetic and an intimate narrative mode to explore how political violence fractures personal identity and collective history. Through nuanced performances by Gong Li and Chen Daoming, "Coming Home" transforms a private tragedy into a meditation on national amnesia and the human need to remember.

Introduction

The Cultural Revolution (1966–1976) remains one of the most traumatic periods in modern Chinese history, leaving indelible scars on both individuals and institutions. Zhang Yimou's "Coming Home" situates its narrative at the aftermath of this upheaval, not as a political exposé but as an emotional and psychological inquiry. Adapted from Yan Geling's novel "The Criminal Lu Yanshi", the film narrows its focus to a single family torn apart by ideological persecution and time. The story's apparent simplicity – a husband returning home to a wife who no longer remembers him – belies a profound investigation into how trauma reshapes love and identity.

Aesthetic Restraint and Visual Composition

Unlike the vivid colour symbolism and choreographed dynamism of Zhang's early masterpieces ("Raise the Red Lantern", "Hero"), "Coming Home" embraces minimalism. Cinematographer Zhao Xiaoding constructs a muted palette dominated by greys, browns and dim natural light, evoking both the drabness of the Cultural Revolution era and the emotional desolation of its survivors.

The film's mise-en-scène is marked by enclosed spaces – stairwells, narrow corridors and the family home – which function as visual metaphors for confinement and psychological entrapment. Zhang's use of static framing and long takes amplifies the sense of temporal suspension, suggesting a world frozen between remembrance and forgetting. The recurring motif of doors and thresholds underscores the emotional distance between characters: Lu Yanshi's homecoming is perpetually deferred, both spatially and emotionally.

Performance and Embodied Memory

The performances of Gong Li and Chen Daoming constitute the film's emotional core. Gong Li's portrayal of Feng Wanyu transcends mere pathology; her selective amnesia becomes an embodiment of collective trauma. Her gestures – hesitant, repetitive, and constrained – articulate a form of bodily memory that persists even when cognitive recall has failed. In contrast, Chen's Lu Yanshi performs devotion as ritual, a repetitive act of care that affirms love's endurance amid erasure.

Their relationship functions as an allegory for the nation itself: Lu represents the persistence of historical truth, while Feng embodies the wilful or involuntary forgetting that accompanies survival. Zhang's direction avoids melodrama, allowing silence and gesture to communicate what language cannot. The absence of recognition between the couple thus becomes a site of ethical inquiry – can reconciliation occur without remembrance?

Narrative Structure and Temporal Dislocation

The film's temporal structure reinforces its thematic preoccupation with loss. By beginning after Lu's release from prison, Zhang displaces the political violence to the background, focusing instead on its psychic aftermath. Time in "Coming Home" is fragmented and recursive; letters, dreams and songs serve as mnemonic devices attempting to restore continuity. Yet each attempt at recovery collapses under the weight of absence.

This non-linear temporality aligns with trauma theory – particularly Cathy Caruth's conception of trauma as an "unclaimed experience", one that resists integration into narrative memory. Feng's amnesia can thus be read as a cinematic manifestation of collective repression, while Lu's unwavering attempts to reintroduce himself signify the ethical imperative to remember.

Sound, Silence and the Ethics of Remembering

Composer Chen Qigang's minimalist score underscores the film's meditative tone. The sparse piano melodies function less as emotional cues than as echoes of memory itself – faint, incomplete and cyclical. Silence, conversely, operates as a structural principle. Zhang allows moments of stillness to stretch uncomfortably long, forcing the audience to inhabit the same suspended temporality as his characters.

In doing so, the film poses an ethical question central to post-revolutionary Chinese cinema: How can a society confront the violence of its past without reopening unhealed wounds? "Coming Home" does not offer resolution. Instead, it constructs a space for mourning – an acknowledgment of what has been lost and what must still be remembered.

Conclusion

"Coming Home" represents Zhang Yimou's evolution from visual formalism to psychological realism. By eschewing spectacle, he achieves a film of quiet devastation and moral clarity. The story's intimacy – a husband and wife divided by memory – becomes a universal allegory for historical trauma. Gong Li's fragmented consciousness and Chen Daoming's patient fidelity embody the dialectic of forgetting and remembrance that defines modern China's relationship to its past.

Ultimately, "Coming Home" is less a story of reunion than a requiem for memory – a cinematic elegy that asks whether love alone can withstand the erasures of history.

Shanghai Triad (4 Stars)

This is the seventh film directed by Zhang Yimou, made in 1995. As in his previous films, Gong Li is the lead actress.

The film shows seven days in the life of a 14-year-old peasant boy called Shuisheng. His uncle summons him to Shanghai to work for a criminal gang. He's assigned to be the personal servant of the boss's mistress Xiao Jinbao, a beautiful but haughty night club singer.

After a failed attempt to assassinate the boss, the gang's elite takes refuge on a small island, along with Xiao Jinbao and Shuisheng. In the claustrophobic environment deceit and betrayal lead to internal battles within the gang, while Shuisheng looks on with wide eyes, hardly able to understand what's unfolding around him.

It's a gangster movie, but it can't be compared with films like "The Godfather". It's much more emotional, and the intricate plot subtleties are spellbinding. It deservedly won several international awards. Unlike Zhang Yimou's previous films, it wasn't banned in China.

To Live (4½ Stars)

This is the sixth film made by Zhang Yimou in 1994. Like the previous five films, it features Gong Li as the lead actress, although the lead actor Ge You plays a more important role. He was well known for playing comedy roles, but his serious role in "To Live" has since been praised as his best performance.

Ge You plays Xu Fugui, a young man who's inherited a sizable fortune. He's also a gambling addict. Despite the protests of his wife Jiazhen (Gong Li) he gambles away everything he has, including his family home.

Before losing his money Fugui had never worked. Now he turns his hobby into a career. He entertains people with shadow puppets.

The film is told in episodes from the 1940's to the 1970's. It shows the life of Fugui, Jiazhen, their children and their grandchildren under the rise of Communism. Neither Fugui nor his wife are politically motivated. They don't care who's in charge and do what they're told.

Does the story have a happy ending? Of course not. Zhang Yimou's films are tragedies.

This time there was a bigger budget, leading to the use of more locations. Zhang Yimou requested the Chinese army to send him extras, and they gave him 2000 extras. This makes the war scenes spectacular.

I would have given the film five stars, but I found the opening scenes with the gambling silly. Maybe I just don't understand gambling. How can anyone throw away everything he has when he has a beautiful wife and daughter at home? Interestingly, Zhang Yimou agrees with me. In a later interview he said that he should have omitted Fugui's decline and started the film with his life as a poor puppeteer.

"To Live" won a series of awards, including three prizes at the Cannes Film Festival. Nevertheless, it was banned in China, which hardly surprises me. Zhang Yimou claims to have shown China's cultural revolution neutrally, as it was, but this includes the bad as well as the good. After the film was released abroad, Zhang Yimou was barred from making films for five years, but fortunately this decision was taken back.

The Story of Qiu Ju (4 Stars)

In my review of "Codename Cougar" I claimed that it was Zhang Yimou's only film set in the present day. I was wrong. His fifth film, "The Story of Qiu Ju", made in 1992, is another present day film. In some ways it's also untypical for his films, even though it deals with themes that are common in his early films.

Qinglai is a peasant who grows red chilis. He wants to build a small wooden barn to store them on his land, but the local chief doesn't allow it. He says that the land is only for growing, not for any sort of buildings. It comes to an argument. Qinglai says that the chief can only grow hens, referring to the fact that he's only had daughters. The chief kicks Qinglai in the groin, injuring him so badly that he's unable to work for two months.

This is where the film starts. Qinglai himself is a humble man and accepts what the chief did to him. His wife Qiu Ju demands justice. She complains to the local constable, who tells the chief to pay Qinglai's medical bills and give him 200 yuan to compensate for lost earnings. That's only $30, but in rural China it was considered adequate. For Qiu Ju it's not about the money. She wants the chief to apologise, but he insists that Qinglai deserved the kick. She appeals to the county, who pass the same judgement. Then she travels to the (unnamed) large city, who increase the compensation to 250 yuan, but she's still not happy.

The film is about a woman's stubbornness in the face of Chinese bureaucracy. The film historian Tony Rayns points out that the Chinese bureaucrats are portrayed as untypically friendly, which is probably the reason why "The Story of Qiu Ju" was the first of Zhang Yimou's films that wasn't banned in China.

The film seems to have a lot of extras, but they aren't voluntary participants. It was filmed in busy streets with hidden cameras. That probably wouldn't be legal in America. In the 1990's the Chinese film industry was in a state of turmoil, which meant that nobody knew what was allowed and what wasn't.

Gong Li is the pregnant woman in the red coat. She was a famous film star in China, but nobody recognised her dressed as a peasant.

It's a very slow moving film. For the first 30 minutes I didn't enjoy it. It seemed boring. Then it grew on me, as I began to appreciate the film's subtleties.

Codename Cougar (3 Stars)

I recently bought a Blu-ray box set with eight films that Zhang Yimou directed with the actress Gong Li. At the time I thought it was all their collaborations, but when I checked I found that one film was missing: "Codename Cougar", Zhang Yimou's second film, made in 1989. As far as I can tell, it's never been released on disc. It's a curiosity. Gong Li won awards for her performance, but Zhang Yimou himself disowned it, calling it his worst film. After some searching I managed to download a copy, which seems to have been ripped from television. As you know, I don't approve of film piracy, but I make an exception when a film is otherwise unavailable.

The film is a political thriller set in the present, i.e. 1989. That sets it apart from all Zhang Yimou's other films, which take place in the past. A private plane carrying a senior businessman is hijacked when it's flying from Taiwan to South Korea. The hijackers foolishly fire a gun in the cockpit, damaging the landing gear. The plane is forced to make a crash landing in mainland China.

What's interesting is the way the governments of China and Taiwan are forced to work together to solve the crisis. China sends soldiers to the scene, but a senior Taiwanese diplomat leads the negotiations.

It's obvious that corners were cut to reduce the budget. Scenes are linked by a series of still shots to prevent the use of extras. It's not a bad film, but it's not my taste.

Raise the Red Lantern (4½ Stars)

Introduction

Zhang Yimou's "Raise the Red Lantern" (1991) is a visually stunning yet emotionally harrowing portrait of power, desire, and control in a rigidly patriarchal world. Set in 1920's Republican-era China, the film follows Songlian, a young woman who becomes the fourth wife of a wealthy feudal lord and finds herself trapped in a system of ritualized domination. Beneath its exquisite surfaces, the film offers a profound critique of social hierarchy and the persistence of Confucian patriarchy. Through its careful use of color, space, and ritual, "Raise the Red Lantern" reveals how beauty and tradition can serve as instruments of oppression.

Plot Synopsis

After her father's death leaves her family destitute, nineteen-year-old Songlian (Gong Li) agrees to marry a rich master, becoming his fourth wife. Upon arriving at the vast, stone-walled estate, she learns that each wife lives in a separate courtyard, and that the Master's favor is signified by the lighting of red lanterns outside the chosen wife's quarters each night.

Initially, Songlian believes she can manipulate this system, but she soon discovers a world steeped in deception and rivalry.

First Mistress, Yuru, is resigned and embittered, holding onto seniority but little affection.

Second Mistress, Zhuoyun, feigns kindness while scheming to undermine others.

Third Mistress, Meishan, a former opera singer, is passionate and rebellious, pursuing a secret affair with the family doctor.

Songlian's own attempts at self-assertion – including a false pregnancy meant to win attention – spiral into tragedy when Meishan's infidelity is discovered and punished by execution. Isolated and powerless, Songlian descends into madness. As a new fifth mistress arrives, the red lanterns are lit once more, restoring the appearance of order. The cycle continues.

Symbolism and Visual Style

The Red Lanterns

The film's central symbol, the red lantern, embodies the seductive face of power. Lit outside a wife's quarters to mark the Master's favor, the lanterns appear warm and intimate yet signify ownership and control. They represent both privilege and imprisonment, their glow a reminder that desire has been institutionalized. When Songlian is punished and her lanterns are covered in black cloth, the extinguished light becomes a symbol of erasure – a literal and emotional darkness.

Color and Composition

Zhang Yimou's visual precision transforms every frame into a tableau of meaning. The film's dominant red palette – vibrant yet oppressive – connotes both passion and danger. The cold gray architecture of the compound heightens the contrast, underscoring how ritual beauty conceals emotional sterility.

The camera's symmetrical framing and static long shots evoke a sense of confinement. The courtyard's geometry traps the characters within invisible lines of power, and the repetition of movement and color mirrors the monotony of their ritualized lives.

Architecture and Space

The mansion functions as a visual metaphor for the patriarchal system. Its walls are high, its courtyards uniform, and its servants omnipresent. Women occupy separate, near-identical quarters, creating proximity without intimacy. The film's frequent use of doorways, windows, and screens to frame characters within frames suggests surveillance and fragmentation – a world where private emotion is constantly on display but never free.

Sound and Silence

The soundtrack relies heavily on silence and repetition. The sound of ritual – servants' footsteps, bells, and chants – replaces music, reinforcing the mechanical nature of life within the compound. When music does appear, as in Meishan's operatic singing, it becomes a fleeting act of resistance, silenced as swiftly as it begins.

Cultural and Historical Context

Confucian Patriarchy and Feudal Hierarchy

The Master's household represents a microcosm of Confucian social order, where hierarchy, ritual, and obedience define every relationship. The Master is an unseen but omnipotent authority – the patriarch whose approval determines identity and worth. The wives' ranked positions mirror the Confucian emphasis on structure and stability at the cost of individuality.

Zhang Yimou contrasts this static order with Songlian's modern sensibility. Educated and self-aware, she embodies a generation caught between feudal submission and modern independence. Her suffering reveals how outdated moral codes continued to dominate even as China entered a new century.

The "Three Obediences and Four Virtues"

Traditional gender ideals in Confucian thought dictated that women obey their fathers, their husbands and their sons. In the film, the wives' entire existence revolves around pleasing the Master. Their rivalry is not natural but socially engineered, ensuring that they police each other instead of challenging authority. Even rebellion, such as Meishan's affair, is framed as moral corruption rather than an act of human longing.

The four virtues are morality, proper speech, modest appearance and hard work.

Ritual as Control

Zhang's portrayal of ritual – from lantern lighting to meal service – illustrates how repetition sustains power. Ritual replaces morality; appearance replaces sincerity. The system endures because everyone participates in it, willingly or not. The film thus becomes a critique not only of patriarchy but of any ideology that disguises domination as harmony.

Political Resonance

Although set in the 1920s, the film's critique extends beyond its historical setting. Upon release, "Raise the Red Lantern" was banned in mainland China, partly because its depiction of ritualized obedience was seen as an implicit commentary on contemporary authoritarianism. The Master's invisible control and the household's blind conformity evoke the mechanisms of political as well as domestic power.

Conclusion: Beauty as a Mask for Tyranny

Raise the Red Lantern is a masterwork of cinematic irony – a film that uses beauty to expose brutality. Zhang Yimou's meticulous aesthetics lure the viewer into admiring the very system that destroys his characters. The elegance of the lanterns, the symmetry of the architecture, and the precision of ritual all serve as metaphors for how oppression disguises itself as order.

Songlian's tragedy lies in her awareness: she sees the system's cruelty yet cannot escape it. Her descent into madness marks both defeat and protest – a final refusal to participate in the game of submission. The closing image, as a new mistress enters and the lanterns glow once again, freezes the story in perpetual repetition. The household – and the society it represents – endures through ritualized renewal of suffering.

In the end, "Raise the Red Lantern" transcends its historical context to become a universal meditation on the seductions of power and the cost of conformity. It is a film about how tradition, beauty, and control intertwine – and how, beneath the red glow of ritual, human freedom flickers and fades.

Ju Dou (4 Stars)

Like most of Zhang Yimou's films, "Ju Dou" is a tragedy. That's a forgotten genre nowadays. Putting it in simple terms, a tragedy is a film that doesn't have a happy ending. The main character usually dies, but not by sacrificing himself as a hero. His death is a failure. His death is often the result of character flaws. The best known tragedies were written by William Shakespeare, in particular "Hamlet" and "Romeo and Juliet".

Ju Dou is a woman who's been bought as a wife by Yang Jinshan, a merchant who owns a dye mill. His previous two wives died young, and it's implied that he was responsible for their deaths. He blamed them for not giving him a son. Now it's Ju Dou's turn to satisfy him. He's cruel to her, beating her when he's not satisfied with her work in the mill.

Yang Tianqing, Yang Jinshan's nephew, works in the mill. He's devoted to his uncle, but he's shocked when he sees how Ju Dou is beaten every day. She asks him to kill her husband, but he refuses. Nevertheless, they have an affair, and she becomes pregnant with his baby. Yang Jinshan thinks the baby is his, and they don't contradict him. Tinbai is the heir, and they don't tell him who his real father is.

In a typical Hollywood film things would be sorted out in the end. Ju Dou and her lover would find happiness. But this is a tragedy. Everything ends with sadness and death. That's the only spoiler I'll give you.

“Ju Dou” is a critique of feudal patriarchy and moral hypocrisy. The vividly colored dye vats contrast with the bleakness of the characters' lives, symbolising both passion and entrapment. The film's lush cinematography and restrained performances heighten its emotional intensity, making it a haunting tale of love crushed by social constraints.

Red Sorghum (4½ Stars)

I was lucky enough to discover this Blu-ray box set last week. It was released in 2023, but I missed it because it was only released in Australia. It's now being offered for horrendous prices on Amazon's web sites, but I was lucky enough to find it for sale on Ebay, direct from Australia. The Blu-rays are locked to Region B, which isn't a problem for me, because Australia is in the same Blu-ray region as Europe. It's only a problem for American customers.

Note that Greenland is also in Region B. If Donald Trump succeeds in taking over Greenland, it will cause problems for Blu-ray sales. I'm betting that he never thought about that.

Of the eight films in the collection, I only owned one as an individual Blu-ray. I had two of the films on DVD, and I'd never seen the other five. Zhang Yimou is one of my favourite directors, so I've been looking for these five films for years. Thank you, Australia!

The box set collects the eight films that Zhang Yimou made with the actress Gong Li. "Red Sorghum" was the first film that he directed and it was Gong Li's first film as an actress. They began their careers together.

The film is told in two parts. In the first part, that takes place round about 1930. A poor woman is given in marriage to a rich leper who owns a distillery that makes sorghum wine. She doesn't love him, but her father wants her to marry him to receive a wedding gift of a black horse. It's a sad world when that's all a woman is worth. A short time later the leper is murdered, and the woman (who's never named) marries a sedan carrier. She takes over the wine making business, and becomes rich.

Nine years later the Japanese invade. The sorghum fields are cut down to make a new highway. The woman leads the resistance against the Japanese.

It's a very patriotic film. The sorghum symbolises the Chinese spirit. It grows wild, and nobody can remember who planted it. When it's cut down, it grows back. And the wine tastes so sweet.

Farewell my Concubine (4 Stars)

This is a film that's been on my list for a long time, and I finally watched it today. It's a highly acclaimed film that won the Palme d'Or at the 1993 Cannes Film Festival and was nominated as the Best Foreign Language Film at the 1994 Academy Awards. It's a film about the friendship between two actors from 1924 to 1977, told against the background of the political upheavals in China.

In 1924 a prostitute hands over her young son Douzi to be trained as an opera singer for a Peking Opera group. "Peking" is the type of opera, not the town where he was based, which is never named. Douzi is rejected by the other boys because of his background, but an older boy, Shitou, protects him. The two become close friends. As the years pass the two boys become famous performers. The main piece that they perform together is a classical opera called "Farewell my Concubine". I haven't been able to find a detailed synopsis of the opera, but I could piece together a few things from the film. A king has lost his battles and expects to be captured and killed. He begs his lover, his concubine Yu, to run away, but she insists on staying with him to the end.

In the Peking Opera it's usual for men to play the female parts, so the picture above shows Douzi on the left as the concubine, with Shitou on the right as the king.

Shitou frequently accuses Douzi of not being able to distinguish the opera from real life. Douzi loves Shitou in the opera and in real life, but Shitou prefers real women. He frequently visits an expensive brothel, where he falls in love with a prostitute called Juxian. She leaves the brothel to marry Shitou, which greatly disturbs Douzi. Their friendship is finally broken up when the Japanese invade in 1937. Shitou speaks out against the Japanese occupation and is arrested. Douzi performs operas for the Japanese. He doesn't think of it as collaboration. Douzi says that art is above politics and all men deserve to enjoy the Peking Opera.

Douzi manages to look like a woman on stage...

... but I still prefer Juxian, played by the beautiful actress Gong Li.

The two friends reunite after the Japanese surrender in 1945, but they can't continue to perform indefinitely. In 1966 the new Chinese leadership considers Peking Opera to be bourgeois, so they have to publicly renounce their acting to save their lives.

There are other subplots that run through the film. Douzi is wooed for years by a rich Chinese businessman called Master Yuan. He doesn't consent to become his lover, but he accepts lavish gifts. Xiao Si, a young man from the opera troupe, fully accepts Communism and turns against the Peking Opera, saying it's no longer relevant in days of revolution.

I'm surprised to see homosexuality mentioned in a Chinese film. Admittedly, there are no homosexual acts, but there are several cases of men loving men. Fifteen minutes was cut from the domestic Chinese version of the film, but the international version is uncut.

This is an epic film. I admit that I need help understanding it. I only have a vague understanding of Chinese post-war politics. I'd like to sit and watch the film with a Chinese friend. Are there any volunteers among my readers? If you're Chinese and live in Germany near Stuttgart, please let me know.

Curse of the Golden Flower (5 Stars)

Dancer's Top Films #19

This is one of the most beautiful films ever made, but it has a different style to "House of Flying Daggers", made by Zhang Yimou two years earlier. The atmosphere in "Curse of the Golden Flower" is much more intense and foreboding. It's obvious from the opening scenes that only bad can come.

Ping is the Emperor of a large dynasty. (In the original Chinese he's only called a king, but I'll keep to the English translation). The film takes place in the Tang Dynasty, some time between 618 AD and 907 AD. He used to be a lowly captain, but he rose to the level of Emperor after marrying the daughter of the King of Liang. He has three sons: Wan, Jai and Yu. Wan was born to his first wife, Jai and Yu to his present wife. Jai is his official heir, but Wan is his favourite son.

The palace is run efficiently, presenting a perfect harmony to the world, but the Emperor's family is far from perfect. The Empress is having an affair with her step-son, Wan. The Emperor knows about it, so he's arranged for poison to be mixed in with her regular medication for anaemia. After the Empress's death he intends to make Wan his heir.

Years ago the Emperor, while still a captain, exiled his first wife so that he could marry the daughter of the King of Liang. He expected her to die, but she married the Emperor's chief physician. He doesn't know she's still alive, because she lives in a house outside of the palace. Her daughter is a servant of the Empress, and Wan has fallen in love with her, not realising that she's his sister.

It's difficult for me to write about this film without giving away too much. All I can say is that it's an epic in the true sense of the word. There are only a few action scenes, but they're exquisitely filmed. The suspense and the emotional content are in perfect balance. The palace shown in the film is the biggest film set ever built. Over 4,000 extras were used. It's a film that has to be seen to be believed.

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Mulan [2020] (4½ Stars)

This is the 2020 version of the story of Mulan, made by Disney Studios. According to the information on Wikipedia, this is the 13th film about her, and it's considered to be a remake of Disney's 1998 film about Mulan. Since I had doubts about the accuracy of this description, I watched it today with the question in mind whether it qualifies as a remake.

What makes a film a remake? If a story is written for film, an original screenplay, a repeat telling of the story is a remake. If a film is based on a book, an adapted screenplay, a repeat telling of the story isn't a remake. A borderline case is stories based on true events. Usually the second or third film about the same person isn't a remake, but if it concentrates on the same specific events in the person's life it can be considered a remake. It's a matter of opinion.

"Mulan" (2020) definitely refers to the same events in Mulan's life as "Mulan" (1998). She had a long successful life, but both Disney films refer to the same events early in her career. Furthermore, they're the same contentious events that deviate from the official story as maintained by historians. Chinese critics have complained about the new film's cultural and historical inaccuracies. These are things that are based on the 1998 film, which already had these inaccuracies. There were less complaints about that film, because it was made as a children's film and wasn't meant to be accurate. The new film is for adults (certificate 12A in England), so the Chinese critics have analysed it with a toothcomb.

There are many differences in the way the new film is told, in content and style:

1. It's a live action film instead of a cartoon film.

2. The 1998 film was a comedy, but the 2020 film has only a few comedic elements.

3. In the 1998 film Mulan is aided by the comic characters of a dragon and a caterpillar; in the 2020 film Mulan is aided by a phoenix force.

4. In the 1998 film the invading enemies are the Huns, in the 2020 film they're the Rourans. My brief research hasn't been enough to tell me whether the two names refer to the same people. If anyone can answer this question for me, please leave a comment below.

5. The 2020 film adds a new character, Xianning, a powerful witch who aids the Rourans.

6. In the 2020 film, Mulan has a younger sister instead of being an only child.

7. In the 2020 film, Mulan reveals her gender after the first battle and is expelled from the army.

Hua Mulan is played be the beautiful Chinese actress, Liu Yifei. She was 32 at the time of filming, but she manages to look like a teenager.

Even more beautiful is Gong Li as Xianning. Is she really 55 already? She's one of the most beautiful actresses I know. I always associate her with the director Zhang Yimou, for whom she's appeared in several of his films.

Like the first film, the new film has strong feminist messages, but in this film there are new messages that emphasise the feminist theme even more. Mulan is a capable warrior from the beginning, but she doesn't reach her full strength until she stops pretending to be a man. There's so much I could say about this. In today's business world there is (theoretically) equal opportunity for women, but it's offered at the cost of women having to behave like men. This is wrong. A truly powerful woman should reveal her femininity in all situations. Femininity shouldn't be perceived as weakness, femininity is power.

Another message is the power of women combined. Mulan and Xianning are on opposite sides of the war. They're enemies, because they serve different men. They reach their full potential when they work together. Men make war, but women seek peace.

But getting back to my original question, is this a remake or not? It's not a clear cut case, but there are so many changes to the original story that I answer No. If you disagree with me, I shan't argue. It's a matter of opinion. One thing that I shan't give way on is that the 2020 film is better than the 1998 version. It's an excellent film that I want to watch again, preferably on the big screen.

Yes, the big screen. The film should have been released in the cinemas last year, but the Coronavirus lockdowns prevented it being shown in Germany (where I live) and most other countries. The poor performance at the box office is a result of the film not being shown in many countries. There were posters for the film at German cinemas, but it was never shown, and now Disney has released it direct-to-video, as well as including it on the streaming service Disney Plus. I'm hoping that it will be shown in cinemas retrospectively after the lockdown.

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Curse of the Golden Flower (5 Stars)

Today is the fourth time I've watched this film, but it hit me hard today, as if I were watching it for the first time. The suspense, the drama and the tragedy overwhelmed me. It's definitely one of the best films I've ever watched. Ironically, it's not included in the list of my top 100 films that I intend to publish next year. There's a good reason for that. When compiling my list I made a selection of the films that I've rated five stars, but for some reason this film only received four and a half stars last time I watched it. That shows how difficult it is for me to make a Top 100 list. I keep on changing my mind about films, so I need to make a new list every week, even if I don't take new releases into account.

Even the music emphasises the film's character. From the beginning we can feel that there's an atmosphere of doom, even if we aren't consciously aware of it. The greed, the lust and the jealousy of the main characters destroy everyone in the royal family. The golden flowers (chrysanthemums) are stained with blood that can be brushed away, but never forgotten.

The palace's beauty is luscious and exaggerated. It makes the film seem like a surreal dream. It's too beautiful to last. At the time the film was made the palace was the largest film set ever created. I don't know whether the record still stands, but it was an amazing feat. I hope it wasn't wasted by being torn down too soon. It could be used for other films for decades to come.

What a magnificent film! Probably Zhang Yimou's best.

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Coming Home (4 Stars)

This is a bittersweet romantic drama. It begins in China in the mid 1970's. 13-year-old Dandan is a highly skilled ballerina. She wants the lead role in a production of "The Red Detachment of Women", but she isn't allowed the part because her father, Lu Yanshi, is in prison as a revolutionary. A supposed revolutionary. During China's Cultural Revolution it was typical for people to be imprisoned if they said anything which only slightly disagreed with Chairman Mao's thoughts.

Dandan's father was a university professor before his imprisonment. After 10 years he manages to escape and travels home to see his wife and daughter. His wife, Wan Yu, is happy to see him, but Dandan despises him, blaming him for all the suffering in her life. She reports him to the police, and he's returned to prison. He's threatened with execution, but a Communist Party official called Fang says his life will be spared if Yu sleeps with him. She does what she has to for the sake of her husband.

Three years later Chairman Mao is dead, and most of the political prisoners are freed, including Lu. He returns home, but Yu doesn't recognise him. She's suffering from psychogenic amnesia. From what I understand it's a condition where a person completely forgets someone or something essential to his life, although he remembers everything else. It's brought on by a psychological trauma. It usually only lasts a few years, but in some cases it's permanent.

At first Yu thinks her husband is Officer Fang and throws him out, so he moves into an unused shop opposite her house. The next time she sees him she doesn't recognise him at all. He pretends to be a piano tuner who has come to repair the piano that he used to play. When he plays one of her favourite songs she's emotionally moved and almost recognises him, but it's not enough. A few days later a package arrives from the prison with the unsent letters that he wrote for the last 13 years. Yu can hardly read them because he had to write them in the dark, so he offers to sit and read them to her. For weeks he's her letter reader. He writes her new letters which he smuggles into the large collection. For instance, she's been angry with Dandan for years because she had her father arrested, so Lu writes that she should forgive her. Yu is moved by the content of the letters, but never realises that her husband is sitting in front of her.

In the last letter that Lu wrote from prison -- a letter that was actually delivered -- he said he would return home on the 5th, but he didn't say which month. Every month Yu travels to the train station to wait for her husband. The whole time Lu stands next to his wife, heartbroken that she doesn't recognise him.

It's a moving story, but I find it hard to relate to it. I assume that the strange illness from which Yu suffers is accurately portrayed, but I had never heard of it before watching the film. The illness's selective amnesia is alienating. The film's irony isn't lost on me. Lu's wife loved him although his daughter hated him. When he finally became reconciled with Dandan, three years later, he lost his wife.

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2046 (3 Stars)

Everyone who goes to 2046 has the same intention, they want to recapture lost memories, because in 2046 nothing ever changes. But we don't know if that is true or not, because nobody has ever come back.

"2046" is a sequel to "In the mood for love". After spending a few years in Singapore, Chow Mo-Wan returns to Hong Kong in 1966. Just as in the first film he has twisted relationships with women. He moves into room 2047 in a hotel. Room 2046 is empty for a few months, but through the thin walls he hears the hotel owner's daughter, Wang Jing Wen, using the room to practise Japanese. She has a Japanese lover, but she isn't allowed to marry him because her father hates the Japanese. The lover, who we never see, has now returned to Japan, and they stay in contact by mail. The father doesn't allow her to receive letters from him, so Chow acts as an intermediary, receiving the letters and passing them on to her. Chow falls in love with Wang, even though she has no feelings for him. Eventually Wang has a mental breakdown and goes into a mental hospital.

After this a young prostitute, Bai Ling, moves into Room 2046. They have a torrid sexual relationship. Bai falls in love with Chow, but he feels nothing for her and wants to pay for her services. As a compromise she accepts 10 Hong Kong Dollars as a special reduced rate, the equivalent of less than one US dollar. Bai even gives up working as a prostitute to devote herself to Chow, but he cold-heartedly turns her away. He only loves Wang.

At this time he begins to write a story called "2046". 2046 is both a year and a place. The characters in the book are based on the people he knows. The film shows scenes from this futuristic world played by the same actors as the real world. Chow is the only traveller on a train leaving 2046, a journey that will last many years, maybe forever. To keep him company there is a pleasure android that looks like Wang. In the story Chow has sex with Wang, which never happened in the real world. But just as in the real world, she doesn't love him, even though Chow imagines himself to be Japanese in the story.

This is a sad, sad film. What makes it all the more tragic is that Chow can't even be happy in his fantasies. I have to ask, what's the point of a fantasy if it's just as depressing as real life?

On the other hand, any man who falls asleep when he's on the back seat of a car with Zhang Ziyi deserves to be miserable. No wonder she looks annoyed!

Red Sorghum (4½ Stars)

"Red Sorghum", released in 1987, was the first film directed by Zhang Yimou. It was also the first film role of Gong Li, who is now recognised as one of China's greatest actresses. It was a bold move to give an inexperienced actress the leading role, but it was successful.

The film, based on a true story, is narrated by an unseen man who tells the story of his grandmother, Little Nine, in the 1930's. Against her wishes her poor father arranges for her to marry a rich old man who owns a distillery that makes sorghum wine. Three days after the wedding she has an affair with a poor sedan carrier. While she is with him her husband is murdered by an unknown assailant, so Little Nine inherits the distillery. Soon after this she marries the sedan carrier, and under her leadership the wine becomes better than ever. Things go well until nine years later, when the Japanese invade and force the sorghum fields to be cut down to build a highway.

The film was obviously made with a smaller budget than Zhang Yimou's later films, but it shows the sparks of genius that would characterise his later work.

Curse of the Golden Flower (4½ Stars)

Tragedies are out of fashion in modern culture. Today people want to see films that have a happy ending. Many of Shakespeare's plays were tragedies. "Coriolanus" showed the fate of a man who suffered because he did the right thing, whereas other tragedies show suffering as a result of his own evil deeds. Judging by this film, as well as other recent films, there is still an interest in China in tragedies.

The film is set in China's Tang Dynasty, which lasted from 618 to 907. The Emperor has three sons, Jai, Wan and Yu. Jai is the oldest, but the Emperor has chosen Wan, his favourite son, as his heir. After the death of his first wife he married a younger woman, the king's daughter. For years Wan had an affair with his step-mother, but now he has met Chan, the daughter of the imperial doctor, and wants to renounce his claim to the throne to run away with her. The Empress is bitter that Wan has rejected her and wants to kill him.

As if that isn't enough, the Emperor knows about his wife's infidelity and is taking revenge on her. He has asked the imperial doctor to add a slow working poison to her daily medicine. When the Empress finds out she decides to continue to drink the poison. She's happy to die, as long as the Emperor and Wan die with her. She involves Jai in a plot to overthrow the throne on the annual Feast of the Golden Chrysanthemum. At first Jai is unwilling to act against his father, but then he decides it's the right thing to do to avenge his father's poisoning of his mother.

But to be a true tragedy, even the love has to fail. We find out that the Emperor's first wife never died, she was simply banished because he wanted to strengthen his kingdom by marrying a higher situated woman. Unknown to him his first wife married the imperial doctor, which means that Wan is unwittingly having an affair with his sister.

And then the youngest son Yu also wants to become Emperor.....

As you can see, this is a complex story. The colours are opulent, as in most of the modern Chinese historical films. The battle scenes look more like ballet than a fight. The palace shown in the film is the largest film set ever built in China, maybe in the world. I didn't realise until today that I already own five films by the director Zhang Yimou. Apart from this film I have "The Road Home", "Hero", "House of Flying Daggers" and "Flowers of War". I should pay more attention to him.

Shanghai (4½ Stars)

This is the best example of film noir that I've seen in years. The film was made with a big budget and is shot in an exotic location, but it retains all the characteristics of film noir. But since there are supposedly differences in opinion on what "film noir" is, let me tell you what the key elements are.

1. There is a murder.

2. There is a male detective working to solve the murder. Though usually a private detective it might be a policeman or someone acting as a detective would. The detective is often flawed, for instance a drinker or a chain smoker.

3. There is a dangerous woman involved with the detective, a femme fatale.

4. The film is made either in black and white, or with subdued colours.

5. The film's pace is slow, relying on a dark mood rather than action.

If you check the Wikipedia page you will find a broader definition, but I disagree with most of what is written. If the five elements listed above aren't included it's not film noir. Wikipedia is a useful tool, but it isn't always right.

The film begins in October 1941, two months before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Paul Soames (John Cusack) is an undercover agent working for U.S. Naval Intelligence. His cover is as a reporter who writes pro-German articles for an American newspaper. After spending time in Berlin he is transferred to Shanghai. While there he discovers that his best friend, also a secret agent, has been murdered. He makes finding his friend's killer his priority.

Shanghai was a fascinating but dangerous city when Soames arrived. Most of China had been conquered by the Japanese, but Shanghai was jointly occupied by various powers and divided into sectors, the British, the French, the German and the Japanese. Nevertheless, everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before Japan took the whole city for itself. The Chinese resistance saw Shanghai as their last battleground against the Japanese.

Soames works in the British sector, where his American newspaper is located, but his investigations lead him into the other sectors. He meets and befriends Anthony Lan-Ting, the city's Chinese crimelord, as well as the city's Japanese intelligence officer, who likes him because of his pro-German articles. But he also embarks on a dangerous relationship with Lan-Ting's wife, the film's obligatory femme fatale.

The film's slow, plodding pace makes a refreshing change to all the Hollywood action films made today. There should be more films like this. I highly recommend it to my readers.