April 2, 2007
Shakespeare with ninjas, Gong Li, and computer-generated armies. In Zhang Yimou’s follow up to Hero and House of Flying Daggers, political and personal machinations explode in a riot of red and gold. Gone are Yimou’s eye-kissing colours and ass-kicking choreography. Instead the screen preens with an opulence of blinding yellow. And the martial arts take back-seat to a story of courtly corruption.
Something’s rotten in the state of China and Yimou uses colour to convey it. No surprise, then, to find the ruthless Emperor ruling his court with a steely smile and a murderous mind. Masking his evil, he’s slowly poisoning his wife. She knows. But the confines of the court prevent escape.
But what’s she plotting? And why’s she embroidering thousands of golden flowers on the eve of the Chrysanthemum Festival? Skeletons are going to come rattling out of the closet - and don’t be surprised if some of them look like King Lear, Hamlet or Macbeth. It’s the Tang Dynasty, circa 928, but the poisonous politics are timeless.
Tense and claustrophobic, Golden Flower works an atmospheric spell. Darker than the poetic aesthetics of Hero or Flying Daggers, it’s a heady brew. And its skippity editing makes a change from the billowy ballets of the earlier films. But the showdown feels like a promo-reel for Yimou’s Beijing Olympics opener. Certainly the action is the let-down.
Poor CGI doesn’t help. Reminiscent of the massed ranks in Troy, the colour-coded armies clash in a melee of impersonality. And an off-the-wall canyon chase by airborne ninjas defies not just gravity, but belief. Striking certainly, but seriously at odds with the personal drama.
But Curse of the Golden Flower is worth seeing. Yimou’s visuals are impressive if less assured than usual. Best of all are the performances. Chow Yun Fat is chillingly effective as the Emperor, sinister and suitably underplayed. And Gong Li works wonders as the Empress, trapped in a poisonous relationship and strapped into some seriously confining costumes.
Something’s rotten in the state of China and Yimou uses colour to convey it. No surprise, then, to find the ruthless Emperor ruling his court with a steely smile and a murderous mind. Masking his evil, he’s slowly poisoning his wife. She knows. But the confines of the court prevent escape.
But what’s she plotting? And why’s she embroidering thousands of golden flowers on the eve of the Chrysanthemum Festival? Skeletons are going to come rattling out of the closet - and don’t be surprised if some of them look like King Lear, Hamlet or Macbeth. It’s the Tang Dynasty, circa 928, but the poisonous politics are timeless.
Tense and claustrophobic, Golden Flower works an atmospheric spell. Darker than the poetic aesthetics of Hero or Flying Daggers, it’s a heady brew. And its skippity editing makes a change from the billowy ballets of the earlier films. But the showdown feels like a promo-reel for Yimou’s Beijing Olympics opener. Certainly the action is the let-down.
Poor CGI doesn’t help. Reminiscent of the massed ranks in Troy, the colour-coded armies clash in a melee of impersonality. And an off-the-wall canyon chase by airborne ninjas defies not just gravity, but belief. Striking certainly, but seriously at odds with the personal drama.
But Curse of the Golden Flower is worth seeing. Yimou’s visuals are impressive if less assured than usual. Best of all are the performances. Chow Yun Fat is chillingly effective as the Emperor, sinister and suitably underplayed. And Gong Li works wonders as the Empress, trapped in a poisonous relationship and strapped into some seriously confining costumes.