Chad Thomas Johnston [email protected] Flowering in the Shadow of Red Sorghum: A Look at a Lesser Trilogy by Zhang Yimou Introduction Writing of Zhang Yimou’s debut, Red Sorghum (1987), Washington Post critic Desson Howe wrote, “If (Zhang’s) debut were any better, he'd have to be tested for artistic steroids.”1 Indeed, with Red Sorghum, Zhang’s cinematic signature was immediately that of an artist whose canvas was splashed with wine and blood. Red was so prominent in his debut that it might be seen as a character in the film and, for that matter, one he could not resist recasting in his subsequent works Ju Dou (1990) and Raise the Red Lantern (1991). An overview of his early career would be incomplete without acknowledging his cinematography in Chen Kaige’s Yellow Earth (1984) and his acting in Wu Tianming’s Old Well (1987) and Siu‐Tung Ching’s A Terracotta Warrior (1990). However, his early years as a filmmaker are most commonly defined by his signature style; his use of color, his allegorical cultural critiques, his reliance on female protagonists, and his preoccupation with individualism despite China’s orientation toward collectivism. The tone of these films might best be described as tragic, bleak, or fatalistic. Zhang’s ability to simultaneously celebrate and lament Chinese culture surely contributed to the Chinese government’s decisions to either censor or ban his early releases. As Zhang continued to release films, he began to reinvent his visual style with the cinema verité approach of The Story of Qiu Ju (1992), a film that was embraced by Chinese censors because it seemed supportive of the government. Then came To Live (1994), a film that focused on one family’s tragic experiences in order to tell the story of the sociopolitical transformations that occurred in China during the 20th century. According to Cornelius and Smith, “(To Live)’s criticism of Chinese society under Mao resulted in official condemnation from the Chinese authorities whose strict censure nearly cut short the director’s career. As punishment, Zhang was banned from making films for five years… This decision was later rescinded.”2 To Live was followed by the apolitical gangster film Shanghai Triad (1995), which garnered critical acclaim for Zhang but failed to be as provocative as his previous releases. Following this period, there was a brief lull in Zhang’s career until he released Keep Cool (1997), a highly stylized venture set in contemporary China that “draws heavily from the frenetic style of Hong Kong cinema,” including the works Wong Kar‐Wai in particular.3 As of the present writing, this film can only be purchased through international channels, and an English‐subtitled version has yet to be released.4 The next three films Zhang Yimou 2 – The Road Home (1999), Not One Less (1999), and Happy Times (2000) – continued to focus on Zhang’s preoccupation with contemporary China. Unlike his earlier works, however, these films largely avoided tragic characterizations and plot resolutions. Additionally, unlike the informally titled “Red Trilogy” (comprised of Red Sorghum, Ju Dou, and Raise the Red Lantern), this trilogy is often overlooked in examinations of Zhang’s oeuvre. The purpose of this essay is to explore The Road Home, Not One Less, and Happy Times in light of the other films in Zhang Yimou’s canon, comparing and contrasting them to his other works. Before differentiating this trilogy from Zhang’s previous works, however, it is necessary to summarize the plots of The Road Home, Not One Less, and Happy Times. Plot Summaries The Road Home weds the rural and the urban, the past and the present, to tell the story of a teacher’s legacy. At the beginning of the film, the viewer discovers that the teacher, a man named Luo Yusheng (Sun Honglei), has died. His son, Luo Changyu (Zheng Hao), is returning to his father’s village to assist with the funeral. Upon his return, Changyu learns from his mother, Zhao Di (Zhao Yulian), that his father’s body is in another town, and his mother wants the body to be carried home by pallbearers on foot. Changyu sees a picture of his mother and father when they were young, and the film transports the viewer to this time period. The temporal shift is signified by an unusual change: the film, which up to this point has been black and white, suddenly shifts to highly saturated color. It is as if Zhang wants the past to be understood as richer and more vibrant than the present. The majority of the remainder of the film is set in this idyllic past, and follows the blooming romance of Yusheng and Di. Their romance is a welcome departure from Hollywood fare, characterized by an innocence and simplicity that is virtually unknown in contemporary American culture. Yusheng is the village’s new teacher, and as the townspeople construct a new schoolhouse for the local children, Di finds herself inexplicably drawn to him. The story is told from Di’s perspective, and the viewer is able to enter into her subjective experiences through numerous extreme close‐ups. Her infatuation with Yusheng is fundamentally incompatible with the village culture’s arranged marriage traditions. Although her attempts to win Yusheng’s attention and affection do not go unnoticed, her mother discourages her from persisting in her pursuit of him. On top of this, Yusheng is sent to the city for a time, and Di faithfully awaits his return by the side of the road. As she waits for him, the road gains symbolic meaning, becoming a metaphor for their relationship’s journey. At the end of the film, when the story returns to the present and the film once again shifts to black and white, it becomes apparent that Di wants Yusheng’s body carried home along the road because it is their road. Furthermore, as multitudes of Yusheng’s Zhang Yimou 3 students volunteer to carry his casket down the road, the scene beautifully testifies to the impact of his work as a teacher. A good teacher’s impact is never forgotten. Or as Michael Wilmington writes in the Chicago Tribune, “These are not small lives and (this is not) a little story – as the film’s end clearly shows.”5 Not One Less continues this celebration of teaching, focusing on a 13‐year‐old substitute teacher named Wei Minzhi. Regarding his interest in teaching, Zhang describes visiting small rural elementary schools and being touched by the lessons he overheard. He concludes that “These scenes … left a deep impression on me … I can’t explain why, but every time I go to a new place that has an elementary school, I’ll always go and take a look. Shooting a story about a mountain village elementary school has actually been my dream for many years.”6 Unlike The Road Home, in which the school itself is peripheral to the romance narrative of Di and Yusheng, Not One Less places the camera squarely in the midst of the classroom. In particular, the film “deals with the dropout problem in China’s rural areas,” focusing on the young teacher’s “tremendous efforts to keep her pupils in school to receive an education.”7 Also, unlike The Road Home, all of the characters in the film play themselves in true neorealist fashion. That is, Wei Minzhe is played by none other than Wei Minzhe. Zhang explains that “The schoolteachers, headmasters, and boss of (the) television station, even the doorman, are people who play those roles in life.”8 Zhang relied exclusively on this casting technique for the film, using their acting inexperience to evoke authentic performances. At the beginning of the film, the adolescent Wei is charged with the responsibility of teaching an entire classroom full of elementary school students in the village of Shuixian while their regular teacher, a man named Gao, leaves school to care for his dying mother. On his way out of town, he explains to Wei that “More than ten (students) have already left … If all the students are here when I get back – not one less – you’ll get an extra ten yuan.”9 Wei is inexperienced but determined to earn her wages. As such, she does everything in her power to retain all of the students. As the film progresses, she discovers that her most troublesome student, Zhang Huike, has been sent to the city by his parents to pursue work so he can pay the family’s debts. Still determined to earn her extra ten yuan, she attempts to earn money for a bus ticket to the city by putting her students to work in the local brickyard. Ultimately, however, she walks and hitchhikes to the city to find Zhang. At the beginning of her time as a teacher, she is solely motivated by the prospect of financial gain. During the course of the film, however, she begins to genuinely care for her students. Her relentless search for Zhang Huike becomes an emotionally charged event, culminating in her pleading for Zhang’s return on the local news. By fortuitous coincidence, Zhang happens to see the broadcast. Teacher and student are reunited, and viewers of the news broadcast Zhang Yimou 4 donate money to Zhang Huike and the village school, enabling Zhang to return to the village for an education. The story recalls the parable of the lost sheep chronicled in Luke 15:3‐7 in the Bible, in which Jesus talks about a shepherd who “has a hundred sheep and loses one of them.”10 He continues, saying Does he not leave the ninety‐nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home.