This is an extraordinary film with a shocking ending. In some ways it plays as a darker version of the later Comrades, Almost A Love Story. The premise is straightforward with Tony Leung Ka-Fai and Maggie Cheung as a young couple in rural China. They met during the Cultural Revolution, married and have their allowed one child. Their aim is to emigrate to America and eventually, after countless attempts, Hung (Maggie Cheung) is successful in getting a visa to study and sets off promising to send for Zhou and their son as soon as possible. When his letters are returned ‘undelivered’, Zhou decides to travel himself, leaving his son with the grandparents and by a circuitous route via Panama, he makes it to New York. Without English, how is he going to find Hung?
Directed by Clara Law, who made several features around this time, the film begins in a recognisable social realist style, but in New York, many of the scenes are set at night in different ‘Chinatowns’ in Brooklyn and the Bronx and also in Harlem. One IMDB user remarks that the film shows areas of New York that don’t usually appear in feature films. For me, the nighttime scenes were reminiscent of films like Scorsese’s After Hours, with the dark streets as very menacing.
The narrative offers a wealth of sociological detail about the different migrant groups. The ‘mainlanders’ occupy the lowest level of rented housing, whereas the Hong Kong and Taiwanese communities have been able to move out. I don’t want to spoil any narrative expectations, but there is an interesting use of an American-Chinese character. Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung are excellent and I don’t really understand why films like this don’t get picked up for UK distribution. It would be great to screen this next to Nick Broomfield’s Ghosts or Michael Winterbottom’s In This World – as well as Comrades, Almost A Love Story. (Available on an All Region DVD from Fortune Star, Hong Kong.)
(These notes were written for a student event on Film Narrative. Hero was the case study film. The students had seen the whole film, so there are major SPOILERS here – you have been warned!)
Everyone is familiar with the conventions of the Hollywood film narrative. This isn’t a reason not to study Hollywood – or to take the conventions for granted. Hollywood, as befits the dominant institution in cinema across the world, is highly dynamic and constantly evolving in terms of film narrative. However, it is often difficult to analyse the films you know best. It helps to have some ‘distance’ from the films we study and one way to do this is to study some films that are ‘not Hollywood’ in order to make comparisons. Often by ‘comparing and contrasting’ similar films from different systems we notice much more about them than if we looked at only one system.
Hero is a film that is recognisable as a traditional Chinese genre, first from literature and then from cinema. The wu xia pian or ‘martial chivalry film’ has gone through several cycles of popularity in the cinemas of the ‘three Chinas’ (‘mainland China’, Hong Kong and Taiwan) since the early 1950s. The genre has been affected by events outside China, not least the worldwide success of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (US/China/Taiwan/Hong Kong 2000). The director of Crouching Tiger was Ang Lee, a Chinese-American who made the film as a tribute to the films he had enjoyed as a child in Taiwan.
Hero could not have been made on the scale (i.e. with the budget) that is apparent on screen without the success of Crouching Tiger. Although Hero has a Chinese director, Zhang Yimou, he is known in the West for his ‘art films’, most of which have been melodramas – not ‘action films’ in the Western sense. The four big stars of Hero are divided into two who are widely known for ‘non-action’ roles in Hong Kong Cinema (Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung) and two genuine martial arts stars who have moved from Hong Kong to Hollywood (Jet Li and Donnie Yen). Because of these ‘global considerations’ and the backgrounds of the individuals concerned, Hero could not be a straight ‘martial chivalry’ picture – and this means it will have found different audiences, who will have ‘read’ the film in different ways.
Hero uses the narrative device known as a ‘flashback’. The film starts in the present (a ‘present’ 2,200 years ago) and then Nameless begins to tell his story, allowing narrative time to be ‘re-wound’. But there is a twist since it becomes apparent that Nameless may not be a reliable narrator. He is prompted by the King to remember things differently, so that we experience some of the same events twice with different outcomes as the stories are re-told. Towards the end of the film, the narrative returns to the present and in this final sequence we experience events in parallel – what is happening to Nameless in the palace and what is happening to Broken Sword and Flying Snow in the mountains.
This kind of narrative structure is not unique, although it is unusual. It fits a genre set in a ‘pre-industrial society’ where there are no cameras or audio recorders, no ‘evidence’ of what happened. It is part of an ‘oral tradition’ where people tell stories and within a wu xia it works because one aspect of a duel between warriors is ‘sizing up’ an opponent. Defeating an enemy is not all about action. It also involves psychology and out-thinking an enemy. Interestingly, one of the most famous films that used a similar structure was Rashômon (Japan 1950) – a film which director Zhang has referred to as an influence. Rashômon is set in 12th century Japan where a man is murdered and his wife raped. The accused is allowed to tell his story, which is very different from the wife’s. Then he changes his story and a witness gives a fourth version. The film raises the question “what is truth”. In Hero we get at least three different narrators. Nameless begins the story, but is then interrupted by the King and later by Broken Sword, both of whom recount their own experiences which Nameless would not necessarily know.
The different versions of events in Hero refer to an assassination plot (and a great romance) but the film does seem to end with a ‘resolution’. Nameless dies a hero’s death and Flying Snow dies with Broken Sword dead in her arms. China is eventually unified. But is this the end of the ‘story’? Because of the history of the writer-director and the nature of the wu xia genre, what do we take away from the story? Are we confident that the second version of events is more truthful than the first?
Questions of colour, cinematography etc.
The writer-director of Hero, Zhang Yimou, trained as a cinematographer in the Beijing Film School and emerged in the early 1980s as one of the ‘Fifth Generation’ of Chinese filmmakers. Several of the filmmakers from this period became famous around the world as their films received screenings overseas and won prizes at festivals. In the late 1980s China emerged from a long period of isolation from the rest of the world and many of the films seen in the West were interpreted as saying something about the history of China under Mao Zedong in the 1950s to 1970s – not directly, but by means of metaphor.
Zhang Yimou began as a cinematographer and then moved on to become a director. He quickly established a reputation as a director with enormous visual flair and in particular, the use of colour. At the beginning of his directing career he made three ‘period melodramas’, Red Sorghum (1987), Ju Dou (1990) and Raise the Red Lantern (1991). Ju Dou was set in a dye-works and you can probably work out from the other two titles that ‘red’ figures strongly in these films. All the films are very carefully ‘composed’ and controlled, so that each image is almost like an art photograph. At the centre of each image is a very beautiful woman, played in each case by Gong Li. In his last few films, Zhang has used his new protégé, Zhang Ziyi, who in Hero plays Moon.
A cinematographer who rivals Zhang Yimou for visual style in East Asian cinema is Chris Doyle. Although Australian by birth, Doyle settled in Hong Kong to learn his trade and became associated with the films of Wong Kar-Wai. Through this connection, he, like Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung, gained a profile in the West. Doyle has been a very ‘experimental’ cinematographer pushing forward the boundaries of what can be achieved on film. The combination of Zhang and Doyle was bound to be special in some way. Complementing the two is Tan Dun, the composer of the score for Crouching Tiger, but generally not a prolific composer for cinema, being known in China and internationally for his symphonic work for the concert hall. The score uses traditional instruments and chants, but is also carefully mixed with sound effects, e.g. in the fight between Nameless and Sky, the sound of rain, the clatter of the blind musician’s stick, the clash of metal when sword meets spear etc.
Zhang Yimou’s previous work is relevant to an understanding of Hero, simply because it sets up an expectation that the colours in the films design will in some way have a political message. There are five sequences where a colour either predominates are is made ‘significant’ in a scene:
- The King of Qin’s palace is grey/black, enlivened only by splashes of red. This forms the beginning and the end of the story and the overall feel of this sequence extends into the first fight between Nameless and Sky;
- Red dominates the first version of the story by Nameless in which he describes the calligraphy school, the attack by the Qin army, the stabbing of Broken Sword and the subsequent fight between Flying Snow and Moon;
- Blue becomes the colour for the second version of the story;
- Green is the colour for the story that Nameless doesn’t necessarily know since it covers the first meeting of Broken Sword and Flying Snow and also the failed assassination attempt;
- White is the final colour, dominating the deaths of Flying Snow and Broken Sword and alternating with the black sequences back in the palace.
What meanings might we give to each of these uses of colour? Zhang Ziyi only appears in the scenes away from the palace so she doesn’t appear in the ‘black’ scenes. In an interview she gave this response to a question about the other four colours:
. . . Hero uses the four colours, Red, Green, Blue and White, to tie in four different segments of the story. On the other hand, each of them also contains a different story. Green is the representation of reminiscing, blue is the struggle among the three of them [Nameless, Broken Sword and Flying Moon]. The layout is unique; it’s unlike traditional wu xia films. It has quite a bit of artistic love story. In addition, Hero is not a typical wuxia movie – its main theme is in no way the same as the past wuxia films, which are mostly about the seeking of vengeance or vying for the ultimate martial arts manual that leads to endless fights and killings. It is about the love and compassion of the heroes of the world, their magnanimity, and has a kind of international spirit. The costumes in Hero are also very special: one character, one design, and there are four different colours. I feel that it’s something very modern, in as much as being avant-garde. (www.wu-jing.org/News/M01/2002-01-Zhang-Ziyi-Hero.php)
And here is Zhang Yimou in another interview with IndieWire magazine:
IW: How did you come up with the color changes in the film: red, white, blue and green?
ZY: Hero is not a traditional martial arts movie. It’s very structurally presented. I like Rashômon, and thought I could use different colors to represent different parts in the movie.
IW: Why those particular colors, red, white and blue?
ZY: There’s no particular meaning to each color. I just needed the colors to represent . . .
IW: Points of view.
ZY: Yes, yes. Each color represents a different period and different [way of telling the] story . . . (www.indiewire.com/people/people_040827hero.html)
Zhang suggests that there is no relationship between the particular colour and what happens in the sequence. Perhaps we should be suspicious of any director who makes this kind of statement (he could be ‘playing’ with the interviewer, or perhaps he was just bored). Even if Zhang did not consciously choose a colour, we as the audience will respond to colours differently. Red is most often associated with ‘passion’ and ‘danger’. This is true in every society – red is the colour of blood. It has a further meaning in China where it could be a reference to the victory of communism. Blue is often a cold colour associated with water, whereas green is often associated with calm. White is slightly problematic since in some cultures it relates to purity and in others to death. White is the colour of mourning clothes in many parts of Asia.
If you want some more ideas about what the possible meanings of the colours might be, a detailed discussion is available on this website: www.spcnet.tv/movie/hero/movie_hero.shtml This review raises many interesting points about the mise en scène of Hero. Author R. Hu suggests that it bears all the signs of Zhang Yimou’s approach to mise en scène: “the use of water, blood red colours, pigments, drapes/fabric, aerial shots and box-like architectures”.
The palace of Qin is a good example of the ‘enclosing architecture’ (Zhang has said that he chose black to represent the Qin Dynasty), as is the interior of the calligraphy school. Contrast this with the ‘open’ exteriors, in particular the lake and the desert. Hu’s review is very long and detailed and it is only possible to highlight some of the points here, but you might like to consider:
The King of Qin’s version of the story which is shown in blue and has a strong circular motif (think of the circle of library scrolls within which Nameless performs the trick with the cup). This is repeated but with a subtly altered mise en scène in the white sequences. The circle represents the king’s view of strength and unity and blue is suggested as the colour of imagination (this is how the king would like the story to have unfolded?).
A great deal seems to hang on the ‘excess’ of water and the contrasting drought in the desert scenes. How many times does water seem to be important? When Broken Sword first meets Flying Snow it is by a waterfall, when Nameless fights Sky it is teeming with rain. When are the other times that water is featured?
“Although much is said about the various colour themes in this film, yet many do not similarly acknowledge the distinct construction of the mise en scène belonging to the various colour schemes. From the box-like enclosure of the Black/Grey sequences, we move into the disjunctive and disunited labyrinth of the Red sequence that contrasts with the perfect unity of the Blue sequence, the fluidity of the Green sequence and the vast expansions of drought and negative space of the desert scenes in the White sequence. The final moments of the film brings the viewers back full circle into the coffin-like confinement of the Black/Grey sequence which begins the film. Yet interestingly, the final shot of the movie is that of the Great Wall of China which though is a wall meant to exclude and confine, yet nevertheless expands into the distance so far, its end is that of which cannot be perceivable by the naked eye.”
The reactions of audiences towards the film in the West (it is more difficult to assess what they might be in China) often contrast what they perceive as a technically brilliant film with a rather disturbing political message. The ‘hero’ is a man who sacrifices himself to allow the King of Qin to unify the warring states and establish the Chinese Empire. This does not go down well in the West and many commentators have criticised Zhang Yimou who in the past has been both praised and damned for the assumed political messages of his films (equally, but in the opposite way, in Beijing and Washington). Much of the debate hinges on the final text that appears on the screen. In the Miramax version in the West it says ‘Our Land’, but Chinese scholars have suggested that the Chinese script actually means ‘under heaven’ or ‘the world’. Is the act of sacrifice that Nameless makes for ‘Chinese’ people or for all people?
It might be helpful to consider the importance of all the emphasis on the calligraphy and the symbol of the sword in the film. This importance comes from Broken Sword. Who is the real ‘hero’ of the film? Is it Nameless who certainly seems to be the main protagonist? Is it the King of Qin who creates the Empire of China? Or is it Broken Sword, from whom the whole idea of sacrificing oneself for the ‘greater good’ comes? It might be worth exploring what you think is the purpose of the love story between Broken Sword and Flying Snow and how this relates to the resolution of the film’s narrative.
If we want to understand the complexity and depth of the filmic narrative, it is essential that we know something about the genre elements in the film and what these might mean in terms of the expectations of the audience.
Hero has been described as a ‘wu xia pian’. Mandarin and English are different kinds of language and therefore translations are open to interpretations. We will work with a translation that suggests ‘martial arts chivalry film’. Such films are not well-known in the West with only Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Zhang’s follow-up film to Hero, House of Flying Daggers (2004) getting any kind of wide release. Western audiences are aware, however, of more contemporary martial arts films from Hong Kong, such as those of Bruce Lee in the 1970s and Jackie Chan in more recent times. Also, many audiences are familiar with the choreography of martial arts as it has been imported into Hollywood action films – everything from The Matrix trilogy to the Charlie’s Angels films.
Wu xia is a distinct genre and the martial arts ‘action’ is located in a period setting and in the context of specific conflicts related to the honor codes of the warriors. This means that:
- the films are rooted in the specific cultural context of pre-modern China;
- the repertoire of these films will share certain elements with similar genres in other cultures, e.g. the chanbara or ‘swordfight’ film from Japan and the ‘swashbuckler’/musketeers/knights tales from Europe and America. There could also be links to westerns and gangster films – those in which a notion of honour, loyalty and responsibility are important.
The important cultural roots in China mean that the actions of ‘warriors’ in wu xia are linked to forms of philosophy and traditions of training which involve apprentices and masters (so that in Hero, Broken Sword is attempting to master calligraphy and marry it to his swordfighting skills and Moon is his apprentice/page etc.). Warriors recognise each other according to the ‘schools’ which have trained them and will often remark on the quality of skills demonstrated. Other elements include:
- ‘super powers’ – warriors are able to leap high and long and to hang in the air, their swordplay is more accurate and swifter than seems possible and they can defeat whole armies of lesser warriors;
- related to these super powers, wu xia may also involve other fantasy elements including witchcraft, ghosts, out of body experiences etc.
- the contests between warriors often take place in a specific location, away from the fictional world of mere mortals – often in a world of mountains, rivers, lakes and forests (jiang hu)
- jiang hu is often in a state of ‘chaos’, caused by wars or corrupt officials who have recruited warriors to do evil things – the good warriors therefore have a mission to restore the balance in jiang hu and the ‘real world’
- the mission may focus on some form of lost sacred object, often a scroll, a sword etc.
- narratives will often focus on a hero with a mission who has to overcome some form of disability (thus blind or one-armed swordsmen are not uncommon);
- families or ‘surrogate’ relationships are important, so that the son or daughter of a warrior may follow a parent into training;
- the tradition of female warriors is not new and can be traced back to 1920s cinema in China (see Reynaud 2003). The modern female warrior possibly dates from an important Taiwanese film directed by King Hu, A Touch of Zen (1971).
Looking through this list of elements it is clear that Hero does use several elements from the repertoire.
- male and female warriors (Nameless, Sky, Broken Sword and the King), Flying Snow and Moon, all except the King with ‘super’ powers;
- there is a sense of jiang hu in the location of significant duels at the lake and in the forest etc.;
- there is a sense of ‘chaos’ – arguably created by the King’s initial actions and then the hatred and revenge engendered in Nameless and Flying Snow in particular;
- the focus on calligraphy is strong and Broken Sword’s mission to bring swordsmanship and brushwork together is a driving force in the narrative.
However, as the filmmakers have indicated, Hero is not a ‘pure’ or traditional wu xia. There are other elements that are important. The romance between Broken Sword and Flying Snow is essential to an understanding of the narrative. The questioning of the love of one for the other, the ‘tests’ of love, the anger and jealousy at suspected betrayal etc. are all elements from the love story. (Even if the jealousy was not ‘true’, it still features as an element.) These elements don’t invalidate an approach to the film as wu xia, instead they make it a richer and more complex text because they are essential in any reading of the narrative.
References and Further Reading
David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson (1997, 5th edition) Film Art, London and New York: McGraw Hill
Gill Branston and Roy Stafford (2002, 3rd ed) The Media Student’s Book, London: Routledge
Nick Lacey (1998) Image and Representation, London: Macmillan
Nick Lacey (2000) Narrative and Genre, London: Macmillan
Sharon Lin Tay (2004) Review in Sight & Sound, October
The explication of basic concepts in genre offered in this pack is extended in the resources pack on Key Concepts: Genre published by BFI Education Projects and itp publications in 2001.
http://members.tripod.com/~journeyeast/wuxia_pian.html (David Bordwell)
Essay or discussion questions on Hero
1. How is the art of calligraphy represented in the film? Which of the characters is most associated with calligraphy and what is it that they do?
2. What is the role of the character Moon in the film’s narrative? What does she do and how significant is her role?
3. How strong is the love between Flying Snow and Broken Sword – how is this love represented?
4. How would you describe the ‘quest’ or ‘mission’ that drives the narrative of Hero?
5. List the main sequences in Hero according to the dominant colours (of costume, decor etc.). How would you explain the difference between the red, blue and green sequences?
6. How many of the ‘genre elements’ of wu xia have you seen being used in Hollywood films? Select one or two examples and explain how the same elements might be shared by Chinese cinema and Hollywood – and how they might be used differently.
7. How would you describe the King of Qin? Is he a sympathetic character or is he a villain? What kinds of evidence do you take into account in your decision?
8. There are several fight scenes in the film. How does the director attempt to make each fight different so that we don’t become bored?
9. How is sound used in the film? Are there moments you remember when a particular sound or passage of music is essential to understanding what is happening? Or does sound always simply support the image?
10. Why do you think water plays such an important part in several of the fight scenes?
This wonderful film is not available in the UK (and wasn’t released in UK cinemas as far as I’m aware – a fate it shares with the equally wonderful Actress/Centre Stage). This is a terrible state of affairs since this is one of the best performances by the iconic star of Chinese cinema, Maggie Cheung Man Yuk. Leon Lai is equally good and it’s a tribute to the film that I still think this even after struggling to watch it on a Hong Kong VCD. (I don’t know if anyone else has this problem, but Hong Kong films on VCD have both Cantonese and Mandarin soundtracks and I have found it quite difficult to disable one of the two tracks on my MacBook – I finally worked it out when I set the audio on the computer all the way to right or left and then played the film using Quicktime.)
The story could only be set in Hong Kong before 1997. It begins in 1986 with the arrival of Li Xiao Jun (Leon Lai) from the Mainland in the hope of making enough money to pay for his marriage to his girlfriend, still back in Tianjin (in North Eastern China). Searching for jobs he meets Maggie Cheung (as Li Qiao) who is working behind the counter at McDonalds. She decides to help a fellow Mainlander (she comes from Guangzhou – on the mainland, but close to Hong Kong), but gives the impression that she has been in Hong Kong for a long time. She has several jobs and many schemes to make money (her aim is to be rich and buy her mother a house) and she is soon humouring Xiao Jun, treating him as a country bumpkin. Despite their differences they eventually fall in love. They make an interesting couple and we get to see what happens to them over a 10 year period leading up to the eve of the handover. This isn’t an art film but a thoughtful entertainment film complete with a narrative twist in its resolution.
It is distinctively a Hong Kong film with a theme of migration and memory – the most important theme in Hong Kong cinema up to 1997 as far as I can see. The soundtrack carries the songs of Taiwanese pop star Teresa Teng throughout the film and they also figure directly in the narrative. Western audiences will recognise some of the nostalgia (and the yearning for migration) from the films of Wong Kar-wai and this film would make a fascinating double bill with In the Mood for Love.
The genre of the film is the romance melodrama with its mixture of nostalgia, hardship and lucky coincidences and its narrative conventions of weddings, break-ups and reconciliations. It works so well that you fear that Hollywood will want to remake it. I don’t think that it could be done. Although the US too is a nation built on migration, I haven’t seen an American film with this feel – except perhaps in the glimpses of Little Italy in the early 20th century in Godfather II. Most of all, I just can’t see a Hollywood star who could do what Maggie Cheung does. I realise that this may again be a function of watching a narrative from a different culture and not following the spoken language – I get used to just watching the faces and Maggie Cheung does so much with her beautiful face.
I was surprised to see a user comment on IMDB that begins with an assertion that this film isn’t ‘political’ (and this from a Chinese or Hong Kong user, I think). It was clear to me that the central characters have quite different attitudes to making money and ‘getting on’. Li Qiao buys in completely to the capitalist dream and she makes her money in various ways, including dabbling on the stock exchange and recruiting students for an English language class. Her whole approach is based on an embrace of the service industry ethos of late capitalism and a recurring image views her subjectively from the perspective of an ATM machine which charts the rise (and fall) of her savings. Xiao Jun, by contrast, establishes himself through family connections and eventually takes jobs associated with the restaurant business in a traditional family-based approach. I found the chapter on the film by Rey Chow in her book Sentimental Fabulations, Contemporary Chinese Films (2007) very useful and I hope to review the whole book at a later date. At this point, I’d like to pick up just a few of the points she makes.
One of the striking points about Comrades is that it offers a series of romances/relationships, each of which in some way comments on the central relationship. Two of these involve Chinese women and Western men and both of them involve the impact of globalisation. The first involves Xiao Jun’s aunt, who years ago as a young woman supposedly spent a day in a hotel with the Hollywood actor William Holden when he was filming Love Is a Many Splendoured Thing (US 1955) in Hong Kong. (Chow points out that the aunt is played by Irene Tsu who had an uncredited role in Holden’s other Hong Kong movie, The World of Suzie Wong (UK 1960)). This kind of intertextuality also extends to the other romance – between an English teacher and a Thai prostitute called Cabbage. The teacher is played by Christopher Doyle, then Hong Kong resident and cinematographer to Wong Kar-wai. These two romances, one past (and possibly a fantasy?) and one uncertain, are complemted by Li Qiao’s own ‘arrangement’ with an older gangster figure (played by Eric Tsang). The scenes between these two are sometimes very affecting and add to the emotional impact of Li Qiao’s attachment to Xiao Jun. All the men involved in the relationships seem caring and understanding (Bill Holden is, of course, ‘absent’) and the narrative seems to me to be sympathetic to the woman’s position.
Chow is as interested in the ideological discourse associated with Li Qiao’s embrace of Hong Kong capitalism as she is in the the discourse of migration and identity and she offers several important observations. One, I liked about the visual symbols of movement and commercial energy concerns the enfless flow of people through rapid transit systems, airport security, etc. against the images of Xiao Jun on his bicycle seemingly cycling without effort against the flow. All this and Teresa Teng on the soundtrack – I’m sure there is more going on than I can fathom. I’d say more about the ending of the film, but I don’t want to spoil it if you get the chance to see the film. Unavailable at the moment, distribution seems to be in the hands of Warner Home Video – perhaps they have plans to re-release it?
Since you can’t get it anywhere with English subs, here is a YouTube link (you can probably watch the whole film on YouTube if you look carefully):