Zhang Yimou is a mystic figure belonging to the "Fifth Generation" of Chinese film directors.
With primitive, exotic scenes, barbaric, brutish yet noble and tragic protagonists and exhilarating
or suffocating stories he won more international awards than most other Chinese film directors.
Though received at home with very mixed views, his stature as an eminent, avant-garde artist
has been unequivocally recognized.
As a prominent director, Zhang has captivated the audience with a multitude of distinctive
features. One of the most salient is primitivism, as most evidently demonstrated in his
film productions during the late 1980s and the early 1990s. The present paper focuses on
Red Sorghum, Judou, Raise High the Red Lantern, and Qiuju Goes to Court in an attempt
to discuss its discernible, pervasive and multifarious manifestations and to examine
its ramifications in terms of the socio-political development in China during the corresponding period.
Primitivism as a literary mode expresses a form of nostalgia for a pre-civilised way of life,
alleging that there was a paradisal era, a "golden age" when the natural or innate instincts and
passions prevailed over the dictates of reason and prudential forethought. It is characterised by the
laudation of spontaneous instinctual life in place of the anxieties and frustrations engendered by a
complex and highly developed social organization. Primitivists strive to escape from the complications
and alienation of modern civilisation into the elemental simplicities for a lost natural, carefree and
idyllic life.
Set in a remote, barren and almost virginal hinterland, Red Sorghum (1987) presents to the
audience precisely such a primitive, natural existence in a society of "noble savages" who
led a simple, unrestrained, barbaric and yet mythical, heroic, admirable life. "My Grandpa"
rescues "My Grandma" from the hands of the highwayman at the risk of his life, has the sacred,
wild "consummation" with her in the open space frantically trampled out among the luxuriant
overgrowth of bright red sorghum, mysteriously brings about the death of the leper, the winery
owner "My Grandma" was supposed to have married to, and together the man and the woman take
over and run the winery in a highly unconventional and ritualistic manner. Likewise, the
sedan-chair bearers and the men at the winery are rustic, uninhibited, and barbaric, drinking
to their hearts' content, singing at the top of their voices and behaving in most intoxicated
and vulgar ways. In this isolated, primitive land, they revel in the freedom from social
restraint, revert to the innocence of wild animals and satisfy their hidden urge without
taking into consideration any social scruples.
If these scenes evoke an idyllic, wild society uncontaminated by civilisation and untouched
by suffocating codes of refined human conduct and therefore depicts the avarice and gratification
of instinctual, even animalistic desires, the bravery of the people in their fight against the alien,
Japanese invaders imbues these savages, especially "My Grandpa" and "My Grandma", with a noble,
heroic quality. In face of the blood-thirsty invading army who loot, burn, and rape everywhere
they go, these simple, patriotic and unarmed country folks fight to their last drop of their blood.
"My Grandpa" dies in battle. "My Grandma", though a physically frail woman, joins the men in the
combat and dies a lofty death as well.
With the presentation and affirmation of the life and death of these men and women, Zhang Yimou
has undoubtedly demonstrated a longing for a life with the gratification of natural, innate
instincts and passions. But such a life does not exist in Judou (1990) and Raise High the Red
Lantern (1991), the two films that have a more somber note with a different connotation and
dimension of primitivism.
Contrary to the charm of simplicity, masculinity and freedom as eulogised in Red Sorghum,
Zhang presents in Judou and Raise High the Red Lantern scenes that are depressing, repugnant
and lamentable. Instead of the wild, open space with much possibility of a carefree, enjoyable
life, Zhang presents in these two films a dye-works amid a criss-cross of low-lying, ugly houses
and a mansion walled in by rows upon rows of compounds. The hemmed-in atmosphere itself foreshadows
a deadening, suffocating effect upon the lives of the characters who live in these suffocating
abodes in an era with growing materialism, industrialisation and progress. The two heroines in
the films are deprived of the freedom that "My Grandma" in the pre-civilised times can enjoy to
the fullest. With the negation and denunciation of the subhuman, abysmal life as a result of
social progress, Zhang displays, in a very subtle, profound manner, a nostalgia for a life fettered
by restraints of traditions. Instead of lauding the primitivist way of life, as he does in Red
Sorghum, Zhang has turned to condemn the wretched existence his heroines have to endure under the
yoke of feudalism. With the depiction of the despair and defeat of the people struggling for freedom
and the gratification of their natural, innate instincts and passions, Zhang has perhaps presented a
more fervent longing for a simple, primitivist life.
Judou is a bought wife for a sadist who runs the dye-works with his nephew, a de facto hired hand.
The master lords it over her, makes her a sex slave, a laborer and forces her to abide by the family
rules and feudalisitc codes of conduct. Even after the death of her husband, she has to continue
the practice. Since the master is probably impotent and the young nephew is full of vitality, Judou
and the young man become attracted to each other. They finally manage to meet secretly and satisfy
their primitive, hidden, sexual urge in defiant of the social mores. But their clandestine communion
is by no means as glamorous, uninhibited as the love and love-making between "My Grandpa" and "My Grandma".
Caution, trepidation and fear are evidently manifested every time they manage to meet. Whereas "My Grandpa"
blatantly carries his woman off and has passion in the day light, Judou and her man have to watch every
step and meet in a sheltered and hidden spot. Whereas "My Grandpa" and "My Grandma" valiantly fight the
bandits and heavily armed invading army without regard of consequences, Judou's man can only vent his
despair and anger by cutting the rail with his chopper and then cautiously taking it out without even
daring to make a sound. The burial rituals with 49 times of kneeling and howling in a mock demonstration
of grief have finally depleted the two lovers of their energy and last bit of courage for the pursuit
of a happy life. What is more tragic, the frustrated man is clubbed to death by his own son, the product
of the brief, occasional fulfilment of their passionate love, and Judou sets the house aflame, dying a
death that is no comparison with that of "My Grandpa" and "My Grandma".
Evidently, we see in Judou the corruption of an otherwise happy, unrestrained life with the advent
of materialism and industrialisation. A primitive way of life is no longer in existence or has turned
to be abhorrent and nightmarish. In this sense, Zhang has an about face in so far as his attitude
towards primitivism is concerned. From the advocation and adoration of a primitive way of life he
switches to a repudiation and blasphemy of an existence that can also be categorised as primitive
in nature. To put it another way, we see here the swing of the pendulum from one extreme to another.
In Zhang's next film Raise High the Red Lantern, the pendulum swings even further.
Illuminated by the red lanterns that are raised high or darkened by the extinguished lanterns that
are taken down the Chen Family mansion epitomises a suffocating, decadent, and primitivist life in
China dominated by traditional, feudal doctrines. Among the houseful of concubines condemned to a
living death lives a refined, educated and perhaps most aspiring fourth victim who becomes sick and
tired of her hellish existence, but has no audacity or courage to seek love and emancipation the way
Judou does, let alone the way "My Grandma" does. If the pursuit of love and happiness on the part of
Judou is a frustrating experience, the attempt the fourth concubine has made is futile, landing her
nowhere but an even more abysmal existence with a lunatic mind. At least Judou has borne a son for
her lover, while to win attention and favour of her polygamous husband, the fourth concubine can only
resort to a lie of pregnancy, little realising that she would soon be exposed by the rival, jealous
wives and reduced to eternal isolation and neglect. Though Judou's rendezvous with her lover is secretive
and restricted, the fourth concubine has never managed to get close to the young master she has a passion for.
The repressive, debilitating existence in the mansion poses a striking contrast to the unrestricted,
revitalising life in the wilderness among the uncultivated, yet thick, luxuriant red sorghum.
And here in the two walled-in compounds, the primitivism takes on a dimension of ignorance and decadence.
In place of the "noble savages" who can roam the vast expanse of land at will, fulfilling themselves
and performing heroic deeds, Zhang enfolds in the dye works and the Chen Family mansion an enclave with
frustrated, incomplete, and unfulfilled individuals who are depleted of even a glimmer of hope for a
decent life. Clearly, Zhang moves even further to the other extreme from the unconditional laudation
of primitivism to a scathing criticism and denunciation of the evils primitivity has brought about.
And the primitivism which features ignorance, backwardness and evil as revealed in Judou and Raise High
the Red Lantern mark an abrupt departure in Zhang's artistic creation, too violent a swing of the pendulum
and perhaps too extreme a thematic exploration as well as a very divergent stylistic experiment. The
deviation made Zhang more controversial at home. Red sorghum was an immediate success both in China and
overseas, but the latter two had been out of bounds for the Chinese for a number of years in spite of the
attention and awards accorded them in the international arena.
Realising that he had perhaps gone too far, Zhang bestowed his audience with Qiuju Goes to Court, a 1992
production with a contemporary theme and a moderation in terms of his obsession with primitivism. Set in
a remote region in China's northwestern province of Shaanxi, the story delineates a woman struggling for
justice that has been denied her, a woman whose unyielding and persistent spirit parallels or even surpasses
that of "My Grandma". In the contemporary milieu she insists on her right for "an explanation", for at least
an open apology for her husband's injury in a society that is peopled basically by kindly, warm-hearted, and
innocent country folks who are content with the marginal improvement of their livelihood. Once more, we have
a land and a community characterised by primitivism.
The land is rather primitive and barren, though with visible, burgeoning signs of growing prosperity. The
people are close to nature, hard-working, uncomplaining and content with an austere life that can provide
enough to eat and to wear. Though the village head wilfully inflicts injury upon Qiuju's husband and
refuses to offer an apology, he rushes to Qiuju's rescue when she suffers from acute labour pain. In
her endeavour for justice, Qiuju is helped by virtually everyone she happens to meet and wants to see.
These include government officials such as the police officer and the public security chief as well as
the man in the street such as the janitor and small vendors. The villagers carry Qiuju to hospital through
the rugged country road and throng to the new-born baby's party to offer their best wishes and sincere
congratulations. In such a congenial community, honesty and kindness become prevalent and unpleasant
wrongs forgotten. Life is given an idyllic, humane touch and everything is shrouded in simplicity and
primitiveness.
But unexpectedly, the equilibrium is disrupted. As Qiuju is ready to forgive and forget, as her
family and the villagers bask in happiness and festivity, the village head is whisked away in a
police car, to the loss, bewilderment and shock of Qiuju who has virtually given up hope for justice
and decided to make up with her adversary. Does the ending promise hope or despair, optimism or pessimism?
The artist has let his audience to judge and come to their own conclusion. But the seemingly neutral note
that the story ends on signifies that life is neither carefree, unrestrained and idyllic as evidenced in
Red Sorghum nor restricted, stifling and nightmarish as revealed in Judou and Raise High the Red Lanterns.
And prevailing and pervasive is the nostalgia and pursuit for a primitive life uncorrupted by human civilisation.
In addition to having the locale, the people and the lives the characters lead that feature primitivism,
Zhang makes lavish use of colours, particularly the red, to highlight and symbolise a primitive life that
either brims with warmth and vitality or has the fervent, instinctual passions inhibited or suppressed.
The sorghum, the dyed cloth, the lanterns, and the chilly in the four films all stand out prominently in
sharp contrast to the grey, dull, and depressing landscape as background. Red is a most favoured colour to
the Chinese, a colour that connotes life itself with warmth, vitality, passion, courage and savagery. The
red sorghum that grows tall and luxuriant, the red cloth that rolls out constantly and in rapid succession,
the red lanterns that hang high, and the chilly strings that every household has harvested and hung out
to dry all evoke scenes of an idyllic, passionate and enjoyable life in a primitive land, a life that is
free from the inhibition of human civilisation. On the contrary, the red blood that gushes out, the red
dye that splashes all over, and the red lanterns that are cruelly put out and taken down as neglect or
punishment signify a life that is barbaric, menacing and savage in nature, a life that is also characteristic
of primitivism.
From Red Sorghum to Judou, Raise High the Red Lantern and Qiuju Goes to Court, Zhang Yimou has traversed
a zigzagging road in his thematic concerns. Though it is dangerous to hunt for message in works of
artistic creations, the controversy around the four films and the de facto ban of Judou and Raise High
the Red Lantern makes it necessary for us to associate them with the socio-political events that occurred
in China during the late 1980s and the early 1990s. And the study yields interesting, thought-provoking
insights about the political and economic reform initiatives and their impacts on the broad masses of the
Chinese people.
The early 1980s saw the resurgence of nationalistic, patriotic and optimistic sentiments on the part
of a very broad spectrum of the Chinese who had just come out of the throes of the devastating cultural
revolution. Economic restructuring in rural areas turned out to be working and began to yield tangible
results. Reforms in urban areas were started upon the successful experiment in the rural regions and the
political change seemed to be the order the day with increasingly exalted expectations of freedom and democracy.
Red Sorghum is a product of such a roaring, optimistic time characterised by hope and national revitalisation
and, in turn, promotes the prevailing spirit of the period. It is therefore no accident that the film reaped
huge box-office profits and received wide acclaim from all sides. Though there was criticism about its boldness
in depicting sex and boisterous scenes that are not palatable to the Chinese taste, the stature of Red Sorghum
as a first-class film became unquestioned. Even the director of the central government's film bureau wrote and
defended the film, an act which had been unprecedented in Chinese literature and art. In this respect, Zhang is
lucky that he lives and works in a much relaxed political climate, a time congenial and conducive for a creative mind.
But in face of the impasse en route to political democratisation, disappointment, despair and even resentment
reigned during the late 1980s. The formidable force of deep-rooted traditions and the resultant difficulty in
pushing the reform dashed the hopes of many inexperienced yet high-spirited youths. The revolution of the rising
expectations and the ultimate bloodshed in the spring and summer of 1989 plunged the nation into a period of
disillusionment and certainty. The traditional yoke seemed to be too overwhelming and unbreakable, and the future
looked grim. Resistance would be futile. These are echoed in Judou and Raise High the Red Lanterns, which were
understandably shelved for domestic consumption in the censorship process, though reactions on the international
scene were very different. Once again, Zhang Yimou is lucky that he was not labelled and continued with his artistic
creation unhindered. Had he lived and worked during the cultural revolution period (1966-1976) he would have been
crushed to smithereens spiritually, if not physically.
Much rethinking on the part of both the zealous reformers and the authorities led to a balanced development
in social, political and economic realms during the early 1990s. The rationalisation seems to be that China
is a country with a time-honoured tradition and you have to come to terms with it. Any inaction or hasty move
will give rise to undesirable consequences. You have to be imbued with the perseverance and determination as
Qiuju is endowed with, but patience and a realistic approach are likewise essential. Qiuju's patience and wait
pay off eventually, so will the efforts and realistic hope of the ordinary Chinese. This seems to be the message
that Qiuju Goes to Court has sent out. And in the words of a top Chinese government official, "Qiuju has won
her case, so has Zhang Yimou".
B
ut for Qiuju as well as for Zhang, winning the case is not all that important. What matters for Zhang the
most is to continue "to do creative work". To be creative may very likely lead to more controversies. But
it is precisely in the controversy that Zhang's greatness as an artist lies. And in this sense, it is hoped
that Zhang will continue to experiment in style and content, especially since he still has many years ahead of
him.
Ruiqing Du
Xi'an Foreign Language University
References
Berry, Chris. (1988). Zhang Yimou: Film Maker with the Golden Touch. China
Reconstructs, Vol. XXXVII, No. 7, pp. 13-17.
Chen, Haoshu. (1989). About the Discussions on Red Sorghum. China Film Yearbook Beijing: China film Publishing House, pp. 273-276.
Li, Jianguo. (1993). Zhang Yimou: Award-Winning Cinematographer, Actor, Director. China Today, Vol. XLII, No. 1, 1993, pp. 55-58.
Li, Wenbin. (1988). The Film Red Sorghum. China Reconstructs, Vol. XXXVII, No. 7, p. 20
Nietzsche, Friedrich. (1956), The Genealogy of Morals, from The Birth of Tragedy
and the Genealogy of Morals, trans. Francis Golding. In Classics of Western
Thought, Vol. III, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich Publishers.
Wang, Yichuan. (1994). Chinese Films during the Non-Generation Period". Contemporary Cinema, No. 5, pp. 20-27.
Xiao, Wen. (1993). The Story of Qiuju. Women of China, No. 1, 1993, pp. 40-41.
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