Zhang Yimou's Chinese Ghosts

Today is a sad day in a small Chinese village saturated with Confucian thinking: Jinshan has passed away. To prove their loyalty, his wife Ju Dou and his nephew Tianquing must block the path of the coffin 49 times. Each time, they would scramble towards the coffin in sobs, stumbling through snowing strips of paper. Dressed in all white, mourning, and clawing at the white confetti, they resemble the helpless ghosts who float through most of Zhang Yimou's films. As a fifth generation Chinese filmmaker, Yimou is well versed in Western filming conventions and styles. With an expert hand, he wields his skills into making deeply moving literal and allegorical films set in communist China. While the themes are snowed underneath a deceptively lush visual palette of images and colors, a common thread of power corruption, helpless entrapment, and ultimate devastation runs underneath the surface.

Beginning to understand these threads, it is often useful to start at the most accessible and common level - the image. As a former cinematographer, studying under Chen Kaige, Yimou has a deep appreciation for the composition of images on the screen. Every scene is as carefully composed as a painting. It is quite obvious, for instance, that the recurring color red that bathes Gong Li's features in Raise the Red Lantern (Zhang Yimou, 1991) has some deeper significance. In Chinese culture, the color red signifies joy, wealth, longevity, and good luck. Red is used in abundance whenever there is cause for celebration, whether it is the color of the envelopes used to wrap gift money on Chinese New Years, or the color of the dresses and gowns worn in traditional weddings. In his films, however, Yimou has turned that meaning upside down. Preferring to assault the viewer with bright saturated reds in the most devastating scenes, Yimou is subtly connecting the color red to the Western interpretation of blood and danger.

For example, in Ju Dou (Zhang Yimou, 1990) the long strips of dyed red cloth that hang over the heads of Ju Dou and Tianquing are associated with both joy and grief rolled into one - as if one inevitably comes with the other. When Jinshan, the infertile husband who whips and abuses Ju Dou into submission, leaves for town, Ju Dou and Tianquing discover a moment of freedom. Their oppression is temporarily lifted from them as they have sex for the first time. Meanwhile, the camera shows us a strip of cloth tumbling into a vat of blood red dye. Whereas this could be understood as the red of joy and happiness, it could also signify the red of devastation that is to come upon them. In an obviously parallel shot near the end of the movie, the lovers' son Tian-bai - whose hatred for their illegitimate relationship resembles Jinshan's own blind hatred - brings doom upon his own father. As he mercilessly bashes Tianquing over the head and causes him to drown in a pool of red dye, we see Tianquing disappear under a long strip of cloth that falls into the dye and covers up the tragic result.

It is through no coincidence then, that in his next movie Raise the Red Lantern, Yimou uses the color red as if it were a weapon. As in Ju Dou red is a color that covers both joy and grief, although the joy here is a little more forced and muted and the grief is only amplified. For example, the red spots of menstrual blood on her white pants give away Songlian's plan. Later, in a vengeful attempt she throws out Yan'er's red lanterns onto the white snow, a visual parallel to the red blood on her white pants. This eventually leads to Yan'er's death. More powerful, however, are the red lanterns, and the bright reds they cast into the rooms. Hanging over their heads like the dyed cloth in Ju Dou, the red lanterns serve as a constant reminder of their situation. Even as it is a concrete representation of power, it is also a very fleeting power that is given to and taken away at will. The first time Songlian sleeps with the master, she asks if the red lanterns would be put out. The reply is simple: "I have all these lights so I can see. I like it bright and formal."

Even though the master has the power to watch Songlian under the bright red lights, the master’s own face is never shown clearly. The audience does not have the power to even look at him. Meanwhile, the audience is invited to watch the beautiful Songlian in every scene, just as the faceless master is allowed to stare at her as he directs Songlian to raise the lantern higher and look upwards. Songlian is as helpless under the master's gaze as she is under ours. In this regard, we the viewers are led into the guilt of spectating, and we feel this more and more as we begin to relate to Songlian's character. Here, the red lanterns could also be seen as a curse. When the lanterns are lit at a particular house, it's a sign of imaginary power; it's something all the wives want. However, it's also something that would make them even more powerless as they secretly wish the master would turn off the lights as Songlian does in the first scene with the master. Their visibility makes them more and more vulnerable. Nevertheless, each wife still vies for the womb-shaped lanterns, not because they really care for the lanterns, but because of the ephemeral rush of illusory power that comes with them.

The different shades of red in these two movies may allude to a more present and dangerous shade of red that is openly critiqued in To Live (Zhang Yimou, 1994). In the film, a family goes through countless personal hardships that are brought on by a combination of bad luck and political pressure on all sides. Throughout the film, images of Mao's calm smile are set on a red background. Even though chairman Mao and his Red Guards are the source of many troubles for the family, his image and his message are supported by the same people whom he oppresses. Murals of his face are plastered on the walls against a bright red background. Mao's face is the red lantern in this movie. Every facet of life is imbued with Mao's communist ideals. In one comical scene, the wife Jiazhen tells Fugui to return a gift. Fugui comes in with a framed picture of Chairman Mao and says "But it's Chairman Mao!" In stark contrast to Raise the Red Lantern, here the face of the master is all we see, and all we can see -- a jovial expression of Mao that must be embraced by all unless they wish to be politically "backwards". Ironically, Mao's painted face mocks its audience. As approachable as it seems, Mao is still a faceless master, a person who never appears in the film but whose power is felt throughout. Later on, the mute daughter Fengxia dies while giving birth. The young nurses that have taken over the hospital are clueless, and the only real doctors have all been locked up as capitalists. In this final tragic turn of events, as the nurses clamor about in confusion, the camera focuses on the pile of white cloth that is soaked in blood.

As we see in these films, red is only a concrete reminder of something else that is much more threatening. The corruption of power and the social acceptance of this power loom over the victims of Yimou's films as the real threat. In Ju Dou, the oppressive power is clearly the abusive husband Jinshan. Even after he is paralyzed and unable to physically torture and force Ju Dou into submission, he still has an undeniable control and presence that haunts her long after he passes away. In Raise the Red Lantern, the faceless master does not physically abuse his wives. However, his power over them is clear as he can come and go as he pleases and can give or take away power from any wife. This dominance comes up quite often in Yimou's films, as it is quite a fitting allegory for a government's oppression towards its people. In To Live, the devastating effects of such a government are shown through the personal angle of a family's turmoil. Jiazhen expresses her humble ambitions in this movie when she says "All I ask is a quiet life together." Staying true to her words, she leaves her wealthy husband Fugui who was gambling away everything and neglecting his family. As the movie progresses, it becomes clear that Fugui has given up gambling and is also looking for the same thing: to live a simple life. But even this becomes a difficult task in the midst of a rocky political climate.

Despite the victims’ unfortunate fates, oppression could only go so far without social acceptance. However, as this oppression is solidified into laws, rules, and traditions used to brainwash the oppressed, what little hope for escape becomes almost nonexistent. The power that is exerted on the victims is also the power that the victims enforce on each other. Only by internalizing the power of the master can the characters of these films gain a glimpse of what they want. The traditions and customs that the elders in the town held as sacred in Ju Dou are also what keeps the lovers from openly being together. The social mores of the time prohibited a widow from remarrying, even when the husband is dead. Thus, Ju Dou's cruel husband continues to haunt the couple's lives, and their will to free themselves from an oppressive past is impossible. Townspeople talk behind their backs about the widow and laugh as they continue to live in shame. Meanwhile, their son, having adopted the same ways of age old thinking, develops a deep hatred for his real father. In a final executive judgement, the son carries out the twisted logic of social expectations and delivers a deadly blow that kills Tianquing. These last scenes suggest that the oppressive powers that keep them down are not only from one source, but from a community of passed-on beliefs that are unquestioningly followed. This oppression is like a virus that does not die off easily, and is kept alive through many generations.

Likewise, traditions are echoed throughout the narrow hallways and courtyards of Chen's estate in Raise the Red Lantern. Meaningless and rather absurd customs are followed without question. Meals are served daily at the same table that is surrounded by pictures of ancestors. Rules are in place for when the lanterns are lit, and what powers they entail. A formal tradition requires the mistresses to wait at the door of their houses as the master's decision is announced. Whenever rules are broken, there are other rules and traditions that dictate how the situation must be handled. As oppressive as these rules seem to be on the four wives, they have learned to accept them and even use the rules to their own advantage instead of questioning them. As a result, even when the master is away, the wives assume the faceless master's position of power upon each other. As much as Songlian hates the silly customs, she soon realizes their power and inevitably falls into using them as well. In an attempt to get back at the second mistress, she publicly humiliates Yan'er by exposing the lanterns that Yan’er secretly lit. Knowing that she has no power of her own, Songlian reaffirms the idea that this place is run by rules and asks the first mistress what the proper punishment would be.

Mao's China is also a stage where norms and rules get played out to an unfortunate end. Despite the desire to live a simple life, the masses are infused with ideals that must be held up by the people. During the Cultural Revolution, the Red Guards - made up of normal everyday citizens - are constantly suspecting (and being suspected of) anti-socialist ideals. Therefore, in To Live living is not as easy as the title of the film suggests. Fugui ends up burning his treasured puppets in fear of being lumped in with classic feudalism. People live in fear of being found guilty of wealth or personal possessions. Even the head of the town, a guy who constantly advocates socialism and gives speeches on the virtues of communism, is accused of being a capitalist roader by the film’s end. Perhaps the only way to live in this oppressive atmosphere is to play dumb, to entertain, to take no sides and have no stance at all. As demonstrated by the wisdom of naming their grandson "Little Bun", Jiazhen has learned that it is simply safer to lose your personal identity altogether and to assume an uncontroversial name that may be unnoticed when "the Devil wants to take a few lives."

Inevitably, when the victims of this oppression cannot escape their situation, they become entrapped. Throughout his films, the director suggests the learned helplessness of its victims. In Raise the Red Lantern, it is literally spelled out as Songlian reflects "What do people amount to in this house? They're like cats, dogs, or rats." Her words ring even more true when the film ends with an image of the fourth mistress roaming around the square courtyard surrounded by red lanterns. Never leaving the four walls that surround her, the scene begs a metaphor to the caged animal.

Even the architecture of the buildings and the camera angles suggest a physical boundary that may reflect an inner sense of futility. In Ju Dou, the view of the small village from above looks like a labyrinth of buildings that seems inescapable. Likewise, from the sharp right angles and narrow hallways to the isolated "houses" that each mistress is confined in, the architecture of buildings in Raise the Red Lantern also suggests a similar frame of mind. Moreover, the camera never leaves the confines of Chen's estate. Scenes are shot from the same few rooms that, by the end, blur into one indistinguishable whole. Even the red lanterns seem to surround the characters from all directions.

Curiously, the grim picture that is displayed through these three films lead to three different endings. After losing all she possessed except for her son, Ju Dou burns the dye mill in the end of the film. This is an act open to interpretation. One can see it as a form of denial, or a way of wiping away the past. In Ju Dou, we have a sense that the protagonist will live on, trying to escape ridicule and oppression from the strong social structures that surround her. On the other hand, the insanity of the fourth mistress in Raise the Red Lantern is less hopeful. Songlian has lost all sense of reality, and she wanders aimlessly, no longer affected by her environment. By losing her mind, she has freed herself from the oppressive ropes that tie her down mentally. However, a freedom that only comes through self destruction is rather depressing. Perhaps the most hopeful of all three films, To Live presents another conclusion, one in which life continues the way it always has and will. In order to live, the characters of the film have stripped themselves of all personal identity and possessions. As the credits scroll, the audience is at once relieved that Fugui, Jiazhen, and their grandson have managed to live despite the problems that have plagued them in the past. In fact, these problems have brought them closer to each other. However, this sense of relief is quickly accompanied by the apprehension of an uncertain future.

Through the corruption, oppression, and social enforcement that eventually lead to entrapment, helplessness, and destruction, Yimou presents a bleak outlook on Chinese life under the communist regime. The protagonists start off as naive and hopeful people, but they end up resembling the ghostlike images of Ju Dou and Tianquing dressed in white at the funeral ceremony. Perhaps it is even understandable why the fourth mistress would mutter such words as "People are ghosts, and ghosts are people,". In fact, ghosts may have more power than people. As Songlian realizes by the end of the film, ghosts can haunt the living, just as the oppression of a faceless master can haunt the powerless.

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