Xiao
Hong became a patron literary saint for Chinese leftists, but she was often
done wrong by her comrades, particularly those she was romantically involved
with. She was one of the first to give voice to China’s peasantry, but her later
work became increasingly less political, despite the wars ravaging Republican
China. Her short life and problematic loves are dramatized in Ann Hui’s
intimate epic The Golden Era (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in New York.
Xiao
never had an easy existence, despite being born into a land-owning family. Her
mother died at an early age, leaving her and her protective grandfather at the
mercy of her physically and emotionally abusive father. Rebelling against an
arranged marriage, Xiao tried to elope with the man she thought she loved, only
to find herself abandoned in a financial lurch. This pattern will repeat
itself, but with subtle variations.
Soon,
Xiao takes up with her colleague and savior Xiao Jun, who is initially quite
taken with her beauty and talent. Yet, the latter becomes an issue when she is
recognized as the superior writer. They will come together and break apart
several times, while great macro-geopolitical forces sweep across China.
Like
most of their milieu, the unrelated but profoundly linked Xiaos are drawn to
Mao’s Reds, but for different reasons. Xiao Jun seeks to compensate for his
literary failings as a revolutionary, whereas Xiao Hong feels personal
loyalties to comrades such as the thoroughly radicalized Ding Ling. Of course,
since Xiao announces her ultimate death right at the start of the film, her
ever declining health obviously portends a suitably tragic end, but she will
experience the Japanese invasion and yet another ill-fated love affair first.
Considering
the politicization of Xiao’s legacy, the ideological agnosticism of Hui’s film
is rather remarkable. In fact, it comes at a particularly interesting time,
with students and capitalists alike taking to Hong Kong’s streets to protest
for genuine democracy. Nevertheless, it has been chosen as Hong Kong’s official
Academy submission for foreign language film (appropriately it will also screen
next month as part of the San Francisco Film Society’s annual Hong Kong Cinema
series).
More
than anything, Golden Era is a deeply
personal woman’s story that happens to be set against a sweeping historical
backdrop. In many ways, it is reminiscent of Stanley Kwan’s Center Stage, covering a similar time
period and periodically using characters as third wall-breaking commentators. The
film even takes on further meta-significance with the casting of Tang Wei as
the “scandalous” Xiao, given the Chinese film authorities’ rumored obstructions
to her career in the wake of her controversial sex scenes in Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution.
Regardless,
Tang perfectly balances Xiao’s delicate sensitivity and pseudo-proletarian
grit. There are plenty of screen actresses who could supply her beauty, but she
also credibly conveys Xiao’s intelligence. It is her film and she makes it work
from start to finish. Still, Feng Shaofeng delivers some of his best work yet, bringing
out real human dimensions in Xiao Jun, rather than playing him as a simple cad
or a revolutionary stock figure. However, amongst the large cast of supporting
characters, only Ding Jiali stands out as their stately literary benefactor, Lu
Xun.
Clocking
in sixty seconds under the three hour mark, Golden
Era could arguably stand a bit of trim, yet the third act still feels a bit
rushed. Frankly, it just seems like the dramatic spark dims when Xiao and Xiao
separate. Nevertheless, they supply the guts of the film and they are
definitely worth seeing. Recommended for fans of historical dramas, The Golden Era opens this Friday (10/17)
in New York at the AMC Empire, via China Lion
