Absurdity, Allegory and China

As the flap over the audio and video enhancement of the Olympic opening ceremony widens, Zhang Yimou, the director of the spectaculorama, is taking it on the chin. The foundation of his reputation was built upon his portrayal of life in the countryside, showing the world a side of China that the Chinese were not very happy to acknowledge, especially the rising urbanites. “Why does everyone in the world want to know about that?” was a frequent complaint among many Chinese who were doing their best to make a go of it in the new age of acquisition. Back then Zhang was seen as the guy who lusciously showed the warts, more an international darling than a Chinese one. We didn’t know that hard life could look so good. He was popular in the wider world, but seen as an embarrassment by many of his fellow countrymen and women. His earlier films, such as Ju Dou, Red Sorghum and The Story of Qiu Ju, and the classic, Huo Zhe – To Live – are works that cut to the bone. These films showed a hard-scrabble China that could not be spun into perfection by the agitprop machine.

To Live, a stunning work of a family’s life from pre-Liberation days through the Cultural Revolution, is one that many Chinese who lived through that period claim to be an accurate portrayal of the confusion and pain of those times. (At one point as the CR gets cranked up, Fugui (Ge You) desperately says something along the lines of, “I am not sure what I should be,” which for me explains it all.) This was ZYM at his storytelling best. But since then (1994) he has worked hard to get into the good graces of the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television (SARFT).

His next two film were sentimental portrayals of Chinese education, which got him into play. I still don’t understand how Happy Times, a film of the south, works into the scheme, but it is not one I’d sit through again. ZYM is a northern filmmaker, and he was clearly out of his element in this one. It was as if he was paying off a debt. But once that bill was settled he got the nod and the subsequent big bucks. Hero was the first sign of what we saw at the opening ceremony: costumes, dazzle, and villages of extras. This sympathetic portrayal of Qin Shi Huang (read ‘Mao Zedong’) set him square with the party. All was forgiven, or, as forgiven as forgiveness gets in China.

That led to House of Flying Daggers, a 30-minute story painfully stretched into 119. This one didn’t know how to end. As Zhang Ziyi did her best not to die, I kept pleading, “Stay down! Please! Stay down. I’ve got other things to do.” Though it was colorful, full of miracles and enhanced wonders, mostly it was empty, just the way things ought to be to make it in this market.

Now there is a great roar over the questionable use of children, computer-generated fireworks displays, and the ‘undermining’ of Adidas’ eighty million USD investment for the Olympic shoe rights by Li Ning, the former Olympian who lit the Flame, and who happens to be a prime competitor of Adidas here in China. The pre-reeducated ZYM would have opted for a concrete-crusty construction worker with a genuine smile running up a broken-tiled stairway, two at a time, to light a little red candle. And that’s why he wouldn’t have gotten the job.

I can hear Steven Spielberg sighing, “Whew!” And Zhang Yimou? Well, he has nothing to worry about. He’ll continue to make approved films and get his large market share despite how this all plays out with the international film set. Don’t expect to see anything like Huo Zhe again. That was then and this is the future where all the money is.

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For some great photos of the opening ceremony have a look at toomanytribbles Flickr set.