Raise The Red Lantern (1991)

(original title: Da hong deng long gao gao gua)

Directed by Zhang Yimou

raise the red lantern

“Isn’t that the fate of a woman?”

This week on Camera Coverage we turn back to Asia, more specifically, to China. Zhang Yimou is one of the most prolific Chinese directors of the last twenty years. Before estabilishing himself as one of the masters of the modern wuxia film with works like Hero (2002) or Curse of the Golden Flower (2006) he made a bunch of diferent films related to either Chinese history or your regular to-go drama picture. That said, his first three feature films, consisting of an unconnected trilogy, are to this day some of his best, especially the one we selected to elaborate upon. Raise the Red Lantern is a period film based on a novel by Su Tong, Wives and Concubines, that managed to do the impossible task of balancing pure cinema aesthetics and important statements on many political, social and cultural problems that are relevant to this very day.

The film follows Songlian (Li Gong), a young woman in 1920’s China. She appears to have been an university student that had some sort of conflict with her family. In a revenge act towards her family she decides to marry an old, powerful rich man in northern China. All of it happens really quickly, and Yimou puts the viewer straight into the complicated relationships between all of the four wives inside the mansion. Each of them have their own house/room that will be lit up with red lanterns if the master of the house (his name is never mentioned in the film) chooses to stay with that wife for the night or not.

raise the red lantern 1Saifei Ha as Meishan, the second wife, an opera singer.

Right off the bat we are faced with the aesthetic beauty of the film. Yes, the visuals are incredibly, but even the soundtrack works briliantly well with the images. There is a real sense of composition and structure in the film that contrasts well with its cathartic and dynamic ideas. More than just pure aesthetics the film manages to utilize many ingredients from the very beginning that make even the casual viewer to question some of the meanings and possible themes that the film will develop. Not only is the use of colour obviously important – hence the title of the film – but framing is key in the film, as is the decision of what to show and what not to show.

Raise the Red Lantern is not a sympathetic film when it comes to its protagonist, nor it is sympathetic to its viewer. The film has a claustrophobic feeling to it. There are rooms inside houses inside a village, and the four depicted woman are most of the time depicted inside these rooms like prisoners. The cold hand of the director when it comes to the depiction of these problems is felt in aspects like these, even if when picturing the master of the house there is never a shot of his face or, like we mentioned before, the mentioning of his very name. This decision would supposedly work in a way that would make us connect with the women inside, but quickly we realize that, yes, the man is a villain, but there is a bigger problem inside this world that dictates all these feelings of oppression. We must think that from the very beginning we are shown that Songlian’s decision was her own, and if she is a prisoner it is because of her doings. Despite the focus on the relationship between the women regarding their marriage, the film’s decision to avoid direct picturing of the husband puts us far away from any of his personal responsability we could have thought of.

raise the red lantern 2The quest for power of these wome led to lies such as fake illness, and even fake pregnancy.

All of this combined with the cruelty and evil depicted in these four women (being it at the same time a characteristic of each of them and a consequence of their situation), Raise the Red Lantern quickly goes from what could be a go-to bland feminist statement to a complex proposition of an overarching structure that is responsible for such issues. It is a controversial reading of the film, yes, but the catharsis we take from such a film is relevant enough to question these problems further and create a reaction in the viewer that, while mesmerized by the beauty of it, it is shocked by how contrasting it is with its ideas. Zhang Yimou made a beautiful film that manages to embellish and strengthen these women’s cages with the purpose of breaking their own metal bars.

A Portuguesa (2019)

a portuguesa

Sempre a guerra. Agora já leva crianças pobres com ele. Para morrerem.

[It’s always the war. Now he takes the children of the poor with him. To their deaths.]

The new Rita Azevedo Gomes film may seem meaningless to people outside Portugal, but as a Portuguese Cinema fan it is exciting to know that a director with such a small but critically acclaimed filmography just released new work. As a director, she has claimed her main influences, and this time she did not even needed to talk about them, as they are clear to anyone that goes through the film. She is working with an old-school film festival favourite actress, Ingrid Caven, and her performance is probably the highlight of the picture. Despite being an interesting homage to many visionary directors and containing great shot compositions (with the help of what is arguably the greatest Portuguese cinematographer, Acácio de Almeida) and a hypnotic soundtrack by José Mário Branco, The Portuguese Woman falls short in its delivery.

The film adapts a story from the 1924 novella by Robert Musil with the same name, with dialogues adapted by Agustina Bessa-Luís, a favourite of Manoel de Oliveira. It follows the story of a Portuguese woman (weird hun?) when she marries a German lord and lives in a castle in Germany while his husband is busy leading a war. It trails their romantic lives while he is in war, and what changes in their relationship when he comes back from it.

a portuguesa 1.pngThe ever beautiful Ingrid Caven in the beginning of the film.

Before I present the reasons I think why this film does not fall into the category of being great at all, let me first point out what holds the film up. There is a clear sense of cinematic conceptualization. A balance between the images and the sound and the music that is absolutely mesmerizing and engaging enough to create hope in the viewer for something great. The incredible care with framing reminds me of, of course, Oliveira’s work (as the director herself has mentioned the film as being a follow up tribute to Oliveira’s body of work), but mainly reminds me of Dreyer and, oddly enough, Peter Greenaway. There is an insistence in The Portuguese Woman of transforming beautiful roccoco painting archetypes into film, working almost like tableaux vivants. Rita works with the tools of camera movement and actor movement to lead us through these living paintings in a way that is diegetic enough to counterpart the hardship you will have in deconstructing the dialogues themselves (especially if you are a casual Portuguese citizen watching the film without subtitles). The soundtrack complements beautifully the rhythm of the scenes, even though that sometimes you feel the sound design of the film (especially regarding dialogue) to sound a little strange in the overall composition of the scenes (at least odd enough for me to notice).

The main problem with the film, and comparing it with some of Oliveira’s films for instance (and I know comparing is not the right way to analyse a new film), is that despite having some brilliant scenes, as a whole, it leaves the viewer feeling like the film is an exercise in futility. There are singular moments that are brilliant, and most of them are visual moments. I have no disdain for Agustina Bessa-Luís’ work (especially considering her words in Vale Abraão (1993) and her novels), but I truly feel that her script combined with the less-amazing and unoriginal scenes create a feeling of decadence that hasn’t the right to be in a tribute film. It is frustrating to deconstruct a film that is as beautiful and competent as this to only find banal and tired ideas that were already messed with a million times, and no overarching concept to hold its existence. And this is where the comparison with Peter Greenaway disappears, because there is no breaking of the narrative conventions in The Portuguese Woman that compensate for the extensive use of the aforementioned indulgent filmmaking decisions. I know that the screenplay is supposed to sound theatrical and poetic (just as it was in, again, Vale Abraão or Francisca (1981) ), but there is something in this particular picture that is profoundly distasteful and tiring.

a portuguesa 2.pngAn example of the mentioned idea of tableaux vivants.

It is a frustrating film for the potential it had to be great. The faces, the costumes, the voices, the colours, all of the small elements are meticulously chosen to compose every scene. The presence of Ingrid Caven brings a mesmerizing element of a Greek Chorus-like nature to the film, another ingredient added to what could have been a great cinematic work. The themes of womanhood, lethargy and class-relations are there though, even if disappointing in their scope. The lighting is great and magnetic. The music – enchanting. Even Bessa-Luís’ words are beautiful, but feel misplaced, and even misspoken at times. The film itself… it really has nothing new to say, and while it is presenting nothing new, and in spite of its cinematic beauty and being a noticeable tribute, it is remarkably unsatisfying and inconsequential.

5 out of 10