Xiu Xiu: The Sent-Down Girl (1998)
The red legacy
At the Chinese Film Week at the Cultural Center of the Philippines two years ago, the line-up included two romantic tale of two handicapped teenagers, a bio-film about Genghis Khan, and a historical drama on the Opium War. The ones I saw wer good enough to be recommended for others to see, but none got the ire of anyone.
It's curious how many of the best films from mainland China are either critical statements about the Chinese society or expressions of individuality. Both traits are more acceptable in Western society, but it doesn't sit well with the Chinese government, to the detriment of such works as Zhang Yimou's Ju Dou and Tian Zhuangzhuang's The Blue Kite.
Joan Chen, star of The Last Emperor and director of Autumn in New York (starring Richard Gere and Winona Ryder), was born and grew up in the mainland. Xiu Xiu: The Sent-Down Girl is her directorial debut, a lyrical love story on the surface, but a piercing critique of the Red Government beneath. It's no surprise, then, that that film was banned in China.
The Cultural Revolution that took place during the 60s and 70s is simply aimed to re-energize the Chinese masses' unquestioned belief in the Communist ideals. It was during this period that millions of youngsters living in urban areas were sent down to the rural regions to become familiar with the countryside.
The motive of this "sent-down" scheme is to eliminate differences between town and country, workers and peasants, and menial and manual workers. This is in line with Communism's ultimate goal of a classless society. The movie takes place during the movement's final phase, where one of those who are sent away is an innocent girl named Xiu Xiu.
Her life as a milk powder factory worker in southwestern China is uneventful until her superiors notice her exemplary performance, which prompt them to relocate her to a grassy plateau somewhere along the Sichuan and Tibetan border. She is to learn horse herding for months and return afterwards with the honor of leading her own all-girl cavalry unity. Furthermore, she'll live with Lao Jin, a Tibetan herder who had become popular for losing his penis during the Tibetan tribal wars.
Lu Yue's cinematography is outstanding, as the plateau where these two persons live seems detached from the rest of the world, and the clouds that hover above seem like a sign that the gods are about to impart a cruel fate to both of them. In a way, it sounds like another tale from Greek mythology.
Moreover, the mood of the surroundings changes - from welcoming to enigmatic to menacing to deadening. The changes play a part in transforming Xiu Xiu from naive to jaded.
The "sent-down" scheme, which is supposed to be successful and beneficial to the Chinese youth, is an embarrassment to Mao Tse Tung and other figures who try to present a mighty and respectable China to the Western world.
It isn't long after Xiu Xiu is brought to that plateau that she expressed dissatisfaction and her inability to adjust to a nomadic existence. Longing for the urban comforts that she grew up with and occasionally thinking of the young boy who is smitten with her, she is unable to relate and get along with Lao Jin, who seems more comfortable with nature than with people. He gradually develops an attraction to her, which she can't reciprocate because he represents everything unsuited to her.
Their differences may be glaring, but a connection between them develops when no one fetches Xiu Xiu after her six-month stay lapses and a good-looking peddler visits their ragged tent to tell her that one of the cavalry units she is supposed to lead have long been gone and her peers have gone back because their parents have connections with the authorities.
Eager and desperate to return home, Xiu Xiu gives in to the sexual advances of the peddler (take note of the Garden-of-Eden-like scene, where the young man offers a red apple to the unsuspecting girl). A few other men follow, and Xiu Xiu didn't resist because she thinks that every sexual compromise will bring her one step closer to her loved ones and friends. Unfortunately, the result is the other way around, as she's like a flower that slowly wilts away.
It's only Lao Jin's lengthy journey to the river to fetch water for Xiu Xiu that enables her to wash whatever stains and misery she feels after each sexual encounter. The change in her hair - from braided to disshelved - indicates her transformation and plunge into deeper isolation.
Lao Jin is unable to save her, as his courage seems to have left him when his penis was taken from him. Both are easy preys to those who simply want to take advantage of them. They become witnesses to injustices that go unpunished. In the end, love is the only thing left uncorrupted, and death is the only way to achieve their desires.
Beneath the innocence, beauty and subtle affection flowing quietly on the big screen, the lady director is short of making her first feature a condemnation of Mao's government. It's no difficult to suppose that like Lao Jin's fury unleashed when could no longer tolerate the maltreatments that Xiu Xiu got from the people who were supposed to help her go home, the film will rock everyone for a while before getting lost in the vast, grassy plateau.
Like Xiu Xiu's difficulty embracing the scenic plateau where she's forced to live, it's hard to stand by a government that doesn't seem remotely apologetic for any of its actions that have made Westerners frown. On the other hand, the ambivalence (towards the Reds) stem from a romantic tendency to rally behind the underdog (remember the political reason behind Beijing's loss in its bid to host last year's Summer Olympics?). Will Beijing's hosting of the 2008 Olympics create some changes? Or will it bring out the open more unpleasant stories that would further blemish its image?
Watching tales of wrongdoings from the mainland can be trite in the long run, but just like Lao Jin, it's better to wait a little longer, as there's no telling what surprises might be in store. The criticisms may neither nor diminish, but they sure make China more fascinating to watch.
(First published in Daily Tribune in September 6, 2001)
At the Chinese Film Week at the Cultural Center of the Philippines two years ago, the line-up included two romantic tale of two handicapped teenagers, a bio-film about Genghis Khan, and a historical drama on the Opium War. The ones I saw wer good enough to be recommended for others to see, but none got the ire of anyone.
It's curious how many of the best films from mainland China are either critical statements about the Chinese society or expressions of individuality. Both traits are more acceptable in Western society, but it doesn't sit well with the Chinese government, to the detriment of such works as Zhang Yimou's Ju Dou and Tian Zhuangzhuang's The Blue Kite.
Joan Chen, star of The Last Emperor and director of Autumn in New York (starring Richard Gere and Winona Ryder), was born and grew up in the mainland. Xiu Xiu: The Sent-Down Girl is her directorial debut, a lyrical love story on the surface, but a piercing critique of the Red Government beneath. It's no surprise, then, that that film was banned in China.
The Cultural Revolution that took place during the 60s and 70s is simply aimed to re-energize the Chinese masses' unquestioned belief in the Communist ideals. It was during this period that millions of youngsters living in urban areas were sent down to the rural regions to become familiar with the countryside.
The motive of this "sent-down" scheme is to eliminate differences between town and country, workers and peasants, and menial and manual workers. This is in line with Communism's ultimate goal of a classless society. The movie takes place during the movement's final phase, where one of those who are sent away is an innocent girl named Xiu Xiu.
Her life as a milk powder factory worker in southwestern China is uneventful until her superiors notice her exemplary performance, which prompt them to relocate her to a grassy plateau somewhere along the Sichuan and Tibetan border. She is to learn horse herding for months and return afterwards with the honor of leading her own all-girl cavalry unity. Furthermore, she'll live with Lao Jin, a Tibetan herder who had become popular for losing his penis during the Tibetan tribal wars.
Lu Yue's cinematography is outstanding, as the plateau where these two persons live seems detached from the rest of the world, and the clouds that hover above seem like a sign that the gods are about to impart a cruel fate to both of them. In a way, it sounds like another tale from Greek mythology.
Moreover, the mood of the surroundings changes - from welcoming to enigmatic to menacing to deadening. The changes play a part in transforming Xiu Xiu from naive to jaded.
The "sent-down" scheme, which is supposed to be successful and beneficial to the Chinese youth, is an embarrassment to Mao Tse Tung and other figures who try to present a mighty and respectable China to the Western world.
It isn't long after Xiu Xiu is brought to that plateau that she expressed dissatisfaction and her inability to adjust to a nomadic existence. Longing for the urban comforts that she grew up with and occasionally thinking of the young boy who is smitten with her, she is unable to relate and get along with Lao Jin, who seems more comfortable with nature than with people. He gradually develops an attraction to her, which she can't reciprocate because he represents everything unsuited to her.
Their differences may be glaring, but a connection between them develops when no one fetches Xiu Xiu after her six-month stay lapses and a good-looking peddler visits their ragged tent to tell her that one of the cavalry units she is supposed to lead have long been gone and her peers have gone back because their parents have connections with the authorities.
Eager and desperate to return home, Xiu Xiu gives in to the sexual advances of the peddler (take note of the Garden-of-Eden-like scene, where the young man offers a red apple to the unsuspecting girl). A few other men follow, and Xiu Xiu didn't resist because she thinks that every sexual compromise will bring her one step closer to her loved ones and friends. Unfortunately, the result is the other way around, as she's like a flower that slowly wilts away.
It's only Lao Jin's lengthy journey to the river to fetch water for Xiu Xiu that enables her to wash whatever stains and misery she feels after each sexual encounter. The change in her hair - from braided to disshelved - indicates her transformation and plunge into deeper isolation.
Lao Jin is unable to save her, as his courage seems to have left him when his penis was taken from him. Both are easy preys to those who simply want to take advantage of them. They become witnesses to injustices that go unpunished. In the end, love is the only thing left uncorrupted, and death is the only way to achieve their desires.
Beneath the innocence, beauty and subtle affection flowing quietly on the big screen, the lady director is short of making her first feature a condemnation of Mao's government. It's no difficult to suppose that like Lao Jin's fury unleashed when could no longer tolerate the maltreatments that Xiu Xiu got from the people who were supposed to help her go home, the film will rock everyone for a while before getting lost in the vast, grassy plateau.
Like Xiu Xiu's difficulty embracing the scenic plateau where she's forced to live, it's hard to stand by a government that doesn't seem remotely apologetic for any of its actions that have made Westerners frown. On the other hand, the ambivalence (towards the Reds) stem from a romantic tendency to rally behind the underdog (remember the political reason behind Beijing's loss in its bid to host last year's Summer Olympics?). Will Beijing's hosting of the 2008 Olympics create some changes? Or will it bring out the open more unpleasant stories that would further blemish its image?
Watching tales of wrongdoings from the mainland can be trite in the long run, but just like Lao Jin, it's better to wait a little longer, as there's no telling what surprises might be in store. The criticisms may neither nor diminish, but they sure make China more fascinating to watch.
(First published in Daily Tribune in September 6, 2001)
posted by Francis Rex Alger @ 3:44 PM
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