The Fiercely Beautiful Film "Farewell My Concubine"
#MovieReview
#SpoilerAlert
"Farewell My Concubine." The moment I saw the poster visual on Twitter, I knew I had to go see it. I had hardly ever watched Chinese films, and I didn't know of the existence of the great actor Leslie Cheung, but I was captivated by his dignified profile. There was an overwhelming presence amidst the artificial, gorgeous colors based on red that are so characteristic of Chinese cinema. Now that I've finished watching it, this film has become number one in my life. I feel like I've only just realized what it means to call something a "film."
<Official Website>
The protagonists have no choice but to follow their fate in an environment so harsh it is unimaginable to me, living in modern Japan. With no time to resist the arts they learned to survive or the freedom and dignity that were trampled upon, they simply perform the roles given to them within a narrow world, and in the midst of that, love for their senior brother begins to sprout. Ironically, it is that very lack of freedom that makes Dieyi's beauty stand out even more.
When watching video works, especially domestic ones, I often find myself unconsciously projecting unnecessary subjectivity, perhaps due to the impressions I have of the actors from other works or variety shows. However, in this case, I could only see the person Leslie Cheung as the character Dieyi, and even after it ended, I couldn't distinguish between reality and fiction, wondering if this person was actually from a Peking Opera background or if he was homosexual.
What is this presence? An overwhelming beauty and transience. The passive parts and the strong-willed parts are feminine, and the gaze he directs at Xiaolou, both on and off the stage, is endearing. Even though he is a character who seems to lack reality, it feels strange that he is there. Is it because he is an onnagata? Because he is wearing makeup? No, it must be because it's Leslie Cheung. The atmosphere this person exudes is one of a kind. He is the first person I've thought was born to be an actor.
Juxian, who appeared as a romantic rival, initially gave the impression of being an obviously unpleasant woman, but I realized that she, too, had no choice but to live that way, and that she was a human being who contained both purity and impurity. I didn't think she was particularly beautiful at first, but as the story progressed, I found myself thinking, "Was she this beautiful?" every time I saw her. I cannot get the face of Juxian at the end, when she was in despair after being betrayed by her husband's words during the Cultural Revolution, out of my head. It wasn't regret or anger; I think this is what a look of despair that has gone beyond loneliness looks like.
Recently, I haven't felt like watching domestic films unless they feature famous people everyone knows or actors I like (though I suppose this also made me realize my own foolishness in being swayed by television and internet information). By watching a Chinese film I wasn't familiar with this time, I was taught that truly good works and good actors are good regardless of whether I know them or not. Furthermore, even though I am ignorant about Chinese history and culture, I was happy to discover that beautiful things are beautiful across borders, and that the moments when the human heart is moved are the same.
This work, which links the culture of Peking Opera, the children entrusted to it, the war, and the Cultural Revolution to the reality of China, depicts a harsh era that is unthinkable today, and it seems that people's ideologies were swung to extremes by the policies of those at the top. To experience all of this in 50 years—how intense is that? Even though it is fiction, there must have been real people in similar situations.
Although the protagonists were at the mercy of unreasonable fate, the people who survived that fierce era, just like in this film, were likely just fulfilling their own lives, whether they were good or evil. From my perspective, living in a peaceful modern age with a certain degree of freedom and choice, it might be imprudent, but I am a little envious. I remembered that I used to think about things like that when I was in my early 20s. At the time, when I told a friend, they got angry and said, "You're definitely happier now, aren't you?" Well, that's true, but still. It is human nature to feel more alive when you are full of dissatisfaction and craving something than when you are in a state of no dissatisfaction. Comparing my childhood to now, I think the difference is obvious. Life is still long. I shouldn't be living aimlessly, me. That's what I thought.
I learned after watching it that this is a 30-year-old work. Astonishing. I want to watch it again in a little while, if possible, on the big screen.
I love "Farewell My Concubine" so much that I wrote another article about it.
[Updated 2025.6.26]
I also went to see "National Treasure"