Monsieur Flynn’s review published on Letterboxd:
Raise the Red Lantern was re-watched as my sixth MISTRESS-movie and also re-watched as one of my Push 10 movies of 2013.
But in the end the choice of re-watching Raise the Red Lantern this weekend is simply due to the death of Roger Ebert, and I felt it appropriate to select one of his chosen Great Movies this time around. I'll also use three quotes from his first review of the movie, the first being the same one I used for my Push 10 notes;
Yimou uses the bold, bright colors of Ju Dou again this time; his film was shot in the classic three-strip Technicolor process, now abandoned by Hollywood, which allows a richness of reds and yellows no longer possible in American films.
-the late Roger Ebert
In my view this just goes to show how possibilities are overlooked due to their reputation, while embraced by true talent will shine in a way new technology and all kind of fancy stuff rarely can. Zhang Yimou is such a true talent, with a cinematographers eye for details and beauty, and this is his masterpiece. While it lacks the kind of breathtaking beauty provided in some of the shots in Ju Dou, Raise the Red Lantern is where it all comes together to underline the storytelling in every possible way.
This film, based on the novel Wives and Concubines by Su Tong, can no doubt be interpreted in a number of ways - as a cry against the subjection of women in China, as an attack on feudal attitudes, as a formal exercise in storytelling - and yet it works because it is so fascinating simply on the level of melodrama.
-the late Roger Ebert
You might well argue the brilliance of this movie could never have been achieved in any other period. The Fifth Generation was gaining experience, and Zhang Yimou himself had by this time had several collaborations with Gong Li to hone his skill set, but there were still old rules hanging over them. The need for silence over the past and the censorship of past crimes, and then the artistic need to not be forcefully tied down. As such RtRL can be interpreted as criticism of Chinese government and their history, an allegory that probably wouldn't have been so powerful if made in any other period. Not only because of the changes, but also because of the Fifth Generation's urge to follow their hearts--an urge that needs the kind of fuel that burns from a passion formed in its time.
I wouldn't hesitate to call this the ultimate collaboration between Yimou and Li, and it's still the best I've seen of either separately as well. The subtlety and richness, the powerful imagery and the silent opposition. It's all there in every frame, whether it's on Li's character Songlian's face, or the courtyard, roofs or Songlian's house. Gong Li have always been a powerful actress--and one of my favorites--that manages to achieve every ounce of emotion in simplicity. There's no need going big, for Li will get the job done so much more efficiently in intimate and simple ways.
Songlian is about to get an education, but then her father dies six months into her university experience. Her stepmother isn't going to support her, and Songlian is forced into marriage. With her view of the treatment of women in general, she takes the marriage to the rich man of the Chen family household with all the posture she can compose. Rather than await the bridal carriage, she walks there. As she takes in her new life, it's mostly about ancient customs and house rules she despises. And within there's drama and intrigue, as she's up against three other mistresses of the house, and servants with ideas and aspirations of their own.
If you are only given one game to play, it is human nature to try to win it.
-the late Roger Ebert
I've more than once said this are conditions Jane Austen would have loved to take on, but the truth is Yimou Zhang's adaptation of Su Tong's novel, Wives and Concubines, is as good as such a story gets, especially considering all the ways to look at it in-depth as you decipher it. Ebert's look at it is correct enough, as Songlian is pulled into the house games quickly enough. Sometimes with childish petty, sometimes with a certain pride, and sometimes with the same venomous approach as others. It's easy to lose yourself in such circumstances, and usually none are innocent in these dramas. Songlian provides the first example with how she with an air orders the maid Yun'er to take in her briefcase just after her arrival.
Much have been said, rightly enough, about the cinematography of this masterpiece, but there's a lot to be said about the score as well. Whether it's the Third Wife's singing or the sound of Aunt Cao's foot-massage, it adds to the atmosphere and intimacy of it all.
Only one thing is sure, to me at least; there's no words able to fully capture the brilliance of this movie. Yimou Zhang's masterpiece is just too full of subtle excellence to do it justice. Not everyone will enjoy this kind of movie, but everyone should give it a chance.
It slowly builds itself up stone for stone, but the majestic end result is impressive. While the slow structure might scare some off, there's such a fascinating slow change it's really rewarding for those who appreciates this kind of storytelling.
Often describe as hauntingly beautiful, there's also something to be said about the seasonal changes of the same cinematography. How it's developed as we go from summer to winter, even before snow adding another layer. Not as dominating as the changes with or without lantern lit, but still felt boiling underneath it all.
Another important aspect to this movie is its depiction, or lack thereof, of the master of the house. Even when he's present or in the conversation, he's never the center. Even if it's his household, he's not the dominating force in keeping with the traditions and rules that is held so high. Something to ponder as you consider the allegory of it all....