Curse of the Golden Flower
Zhang Yimou, 2007
China
@ Regal Union Square
Stylus Review
Full of swords, knives, arrows, and suits of armor, Zhang Yimou's Curse of the Golden Flower is as physical and visceral as you might expect from the thundering trailer. Surprisingly though, the physicality and textural nature of the film have much less to do with the wuxia action scenes than with the way Zhang records domestic struggles happening inside the palace.
Color is the physical feature that strikes first and most forcefully. As we watch the characters skulk about the palace furthering their intrigues, it's possible to become almost overwhelmed by the psychedelic swirl of color that pops from the walls, the ceiling, and furniture. From the gold of the royal garments to the emerald green of the empress's medicine goblet to the red of the ceremonial table set for the eve of the chrysanthemum festival, color practically stages an avant-garde coup, displacing plot and character to become the central element of the picture.
We’re even treated to a scene depicting nothing but boiling, murky liquids used to dye the royal accoutrements just so. Sound and perspective turn the heating and mixture of this marvelous concoction into a flowing, roaring river of dark magic. Zhang also focuses sensually on the empress's daily medicine ritual. Her sipping, gargling, and spitting, each attended by a different servant girl, are all depicted with an attention to bodily function rarely observed in such a high-flown costume drama. Over the course of the film we learn the diabolical importance of this regular ingestion, and such a potentially jarring focus on the mundane act of imbibing makes sense dramatically.
Perhaps this consistent emphasis on traditionally ignored physical detail highlights the importance of "keeping up appearances," the central theme of the movie. The only thing more audacious than the actions of the members of the royal family toward their friends and relatives are the lengths to which they and the palace staff will go in order to go clean up after each mess. Most spectacularly, witness the aftermath of the clash of thousands in the huge palace court which had been, over the course of the movie, meticulously covered with chrysanthemums. Servants swarm the area like ants, cleaning up blood and broken bodies—dispatching the detritus almost instantly—replacing the beautifully patterned carpets which lead up to the palace door and restoring the sea of yellow-gold flowers.
Could that, then, be the titular curse: In thrall to a beauty so powerful, must those most closely associated with the flower eventually forsake or even destroy all else to preserve that glorious facade?
Zhang Yimou, 2007
China
@ Regal Union Square
Stylus Review
Full of swords, knives, arrows, and suits of armor, Zhang Yimou's Curse of the Golden Flower is as physical and visceral as you might expect from the thundering trailer. Surprisingly though, the physicality and textural nature of the film have much less to do with the wuxia action scenes than with the way Zhang records domestic struggles happening inside the palace.
Color is the physical feature that strikes first and most forcefully. As we watch the characters skulk about the palace furthering their intrigues, it's possible to become almost overwhelmed by the psychedelic swirl of color that pops from the walls, the ceiling, and furniture. From the gold of the royal garments to the emerald green of the empress's medicine goblet to the red of the ceremonial table set for the eve of the chrysanthemum festival, color practically stages an avant-garde coup, displacing plot and character to become the central element of the picture.
We’re even treated to a scene depicting nothing but boiling, murky liquids used to dye the royal accoutrements just so. Sound and perspective turn the heating and mixture of this marvelous concoction into a flowing, roaring river of dark magic. Zhang also focuses sensually on the empress's daily medicine ritual. Her sipping, gargling, and spitting, each attended by a different servant girl, are all depicted with an attention to bodily function rarely observed in such a high-flown costume drama. Over the course of the film we learn the diabolical importance of this regular ingestion, and such a potentially jarring focus on the mundane act of imbibing makes sense dramatically.
Perhaps this consistent emphasis on traditionally ignored physical detail highlights the importance of "keeping up appearances," the central theme of the movie. The only thing more audacious than the actions of the members of the royal family toward their friends and relatives are the lengths to which they and the palace staff will go in order to go clean up after each mess. Most spectacularly, witness the aftermath of the clash of thousands in the huge palace court which had been, over the course of the movie, meticulously covered with chrysanthemums. Servants swarm the area like ants, cleaning up blood and broken bodies—dispatching the detritus almost instantly—replacing the beautifully patterned carpets which lead up to the palace door and restoring the sea of yellow-gold flowers.
Could that, then, be the titular curse: In thrall to a beauty so powerful, must those most closely associated with the flower eventually forsake or even destroy all else to preserve that glorious facade?
Labels: 2 Stars, 2007, China, Zhang Yimou