Plot Intro
Pu Yi (John Lone) is crowned Emperor of China at the age of 3 in 1908. But very quickly, Republican uprisings across the country lead him to abdication and a life of isolation within the Forbidden City. The film charts his life through his forced exit from the Forbidden City by the Nationalists under Chiang Kai-Shek, his attempted allegiance with Japan to win back his imperial power, and his eventual imprisonment after the Second World War for his associations with the Japanese.
Our 60th film is probably one of the last lesser-known Best Picture winners. Up until watching it, I knew very little about the content of this film, and had never seen a clip, scene or heard of anything about it that made it particularly famous. This is surprising, as it is one of the few Best Picture winners to have a majority non-white cast, and it also garnered a whopping nine awards at the 1987 Oscars, so you’d expect something quite groundbreaking.
I think The Last Emperor fades into the background somewhat because it maintains the '80s style of filmmaking, but doesn’t develop it. I can’t fault the film’s visuals, particularly in the first hour almost entirely set within the Forbidden City in an age when the Emperor would live amongst opulence and grandeur that would stun even the Russian Tsars. The sheer size of the palace complex, the elaborateness of what the royal court wore, and the almost comical manner in which the Emperor is worshipped are all captured brilliantly by director Bernardo Bertolucci (who also won Best Director). In particular, there is a scene in which the 5-year-old Emperor and his brother start chasing each other in a game, and the colossal group of courtiers, who are also carrying his chair should he wish to sit down, have to run after him in circles to ensure that the Emperor is constantly accompanied. The film doesn’t shy away from humour here which I really enjoyed- it accentuated the sense of awe.
These visuals are further amplified by the contrasting scenes of Pu Yi in prison, where the atmosphere is a lot greyer, more miserable, but ironically just as confined. The Emperor was not allowed to leave the Forbidden City, and the recurring image of imprisonment throughout the film provides a lot of insight into Pu Yi’s life and actions.
But where The Last Emperor fails quite badly is in script. I’ve already criticised the '80s for its trite over-writing. But this film swings to the opposite end of the spectrum and felt under-written. For a film that covers a vast amount of events (Chinese history in the early 20th century is pretty transitional), the dialogue is surprisingly simple. The result is that, as in Out of Africa and Platoon, events happen, they are interesting and educational, but I felt nothing.
This is especially apparent in the second half of the film which charts Pu Yi’s life as an adult. According to the film (and a quick Wikipedia read will tell you that there are some inaccuracies), Pu Yi was determined to re-establishment himself as a reformed Emperor, and was convinced that the intervention of the Japanese would facilitate this. But the script jumps through events in leaps and bounds leaving us little time to process them. Pu Yi has allies who suddenly become traitors, his secondary consort suddenly wants to leave him, his wife suddenly becomes an opium addict, Pu Yi has suddenly been in Tokyo and come back to a mysteriously pregnant wife. We probably needed a stronger, more explanatory script that could help us access these events and know who to boo and who to cheer.
The first half is far stronger because it focuses more on telling story through imagery, and we saw the world through Pu Yi’s over-protected eyes. We hear rumours and sounds of revolution coming from outside the Forbidden City, but Bertolucci is careful not to reveal too much, so we share Pu Yi’s unease, but also his determination to escape.
As a biopic, The Last Emperor provides insight into an area of history that the western world doesn’t usually hear about in school, and visually it’s an effortless tourism advert for China. But like most of this decade, it lacks the magnificent atmosphere of Gone With the Wind and the urgency and tragedy of Gandhi, epic movies that tackle similar themes of political change and discord. If you like Chinese history, then give it a go.
Highlight
There is a scene in which Pu Yi, as a teenager, hears sounds of gun fire and battles in the city outside of his palace. The camera pans upwards and shows the rooftops around him, but we can see nothing, just like Pu Yi himself. It’s a poignant insight into his frustration that the real world is so close, and yet kept so far.
Lowlight
The really awkward love scene between Pu Yi and his new wife is nauseating. They kiss each other like 3-year-olds licking the jam off toast. Yuck.
Mark
5/10
Once again I am faced with the annoyance of finding the DVD doesn’t have subtitles. As a pretty deaf person, subtitles have become pretty much essential to the way I watch television and films, and when I have to watch without them, I become rapidly aware of the fact that I’m hearing about 50% of the dialogue. Couple this with the fact that there are lots of muttering actors and heavy accents in this film, and I would confidently say I heard about three lines over the whole two and a half hours.
So my experience of The Last Emperor was already going to be hindered, but luckily for me - this is very much a visual feast. It’s an epic, with thousands of extras and no expense spared in recreating the opulence and excessive grandeur of the Chinese Royal Court. One particular moment, in the opening scenes, sees the toddler Pu Yi being declared Emperor by his dying grandmother. She sits, with the most extraordinary headpiece balanced on her fragile head, in a bed, on a raised platform with a wall of shimmering gold behind her. It is only through the scene that you suddenly realise they are moving, and the camera pans out to show the bed, platform and wall are all on wheels, being pushed through the palace by an army of servants. It’s utterly bizarre and spectacular.
The film is at its strongest when director Bertolucci is focused on this opulent wealth. We see private lakes within the palace where boats of painted and bejewelled courtiers placidly float by; and as Paul says, we see the rather disgusting way in which every servant bows and scrapes to the ten year old boy. It starts to become very obvious why China became communist.
So when the film moves away, showing Pu Yi as a Westernised playboy affiliating himself with Japan, it loses some of the glamour and excessiveness that make this fun to watch, and doesn’t really replace it with anything else. As for the scenes in the prison, these were the most dialogue heavy and so with the aforementioned subtitle issues, I didn’t get anything much out of this, and had to wikipedia what was going on.
It’s also a film where performances don’t stand out (and it’s worth noting no one was nominated for an acting Oscar). However there is one performance that begins normally and then builds to an exceptional, fascinating climax - and that is Joan Chen as Pu Yi’s wife and empress, Wanrong. It’s a performance that doesn’t draw much notice, but then Wanrong descends into boredom - and opium addiction. Chen plays the tragedy of the role so jarringly well that I was wishing it was actually a biopic of her by the end. High out of her mind and sat in the next room Wanrong devours a bunch of fresh flowers at her husband’s party, before vanishing off for some adulterous action with a spy/princess/aviator (apparently a real person?!). In her final scene, having lost a child and been essentially betrayed by her husband, she returns from the hospital, devastatingly changed. Chen bends her whole body, shuffling and limping through the house, stopping only to spit in her husband’s face. Her face, once beautifully poised, is now somehow warped, her jaw slack and her eyes unfocused. It’s a horrible, gripping moment, and made even worse by the spy/princess/aviator/former lover seeing her and her stunned reaction makes it all the more nasty.
I wasn’t overwhelmed by this film, but there were moments of sheer wonder and opulence, and Chen’s performance was a real unexpected treat. If only there had been subtitles…
Highlight
I’ve talked about it here, but that scene when Wanrong returns, mentally unstable from having her child killed by the Japanese state (or so the film implies) is just phenomenal. I’d watch Chen in The Last Empress any day.
Lowlight
As with many of these films, the second half begins to drag. Film makers would do well to take a tip from Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again and when it starts flagging, deploy a Cher-sized narrative bomb to giddy it up again.
Mark
7.5/10
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