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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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1994-03-25
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<text id=93TT0348>
<title>
Oct. 04, 1993: Reviews:Cinema
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Oct. 04, 1993 On The Trail Of Terror
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
REVIEWS, Page 85
CINEMA
BETRAYAL IN BEIJING
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By RICHARD CORLISS
</p>
<qt>
<l>TITLE: M. Butterfly</l>
<l>DIRECTOR: David Cronenberg</l>
<l>WRITER: David Henry Hwang</l>
</qt>
<qt>
<l>TITLE: Farewell My Concubine</l>
<l>DIRECTOR: Chen Kaige</l>
<l>WRITERS: Lilian Lee, Lu Wei</l>
</qt>
<p> THE BOTTOM LINE: Two takes on the androgynous East--one muddled
and myopic, the other acute and majestic.
</p>
<p> When East meets West in movies, everything can get blurred:
male and female, sex and love, performance and reality. In two
new films about China, the gender lines are so tangled that
it's hard to tell yin from yang. But it's easy to tell hit from
miss. Farewell My Concubine, Chen Kaige's Chinese film that
won a top prize at Cannes this year before being briefly suppressed
by the Chinese government, is a gorgeous, galvanizing epic with
starmaking turns. M. Butterfly, the David Cronenberg film of
David Henry Hwang's Broadway play, fumbles its romantic and
political metaphors and loses the game.
</p>
<p> Hwang's play was based on the incredible-but-true story of a
French diplomatic attache in Beijing who conducted a 17-year
sexual affair with a Chinese spy posing as an opera singer and
never suspected that the lady was a man. (According to Liaison,
Joyce Wadler's fascinating new biography of the diplomat, the
opera singer was able to fold his genitals inside his body,
thus giving the naked illusion of femininity.) From this International
Enquirer item, Hwang spun a phantasm of multiple myopia: a man
preposterously blinded by love, a European culture blinkered
by imperialist prejudice in its view of the mystic East.
</p>
<p> On the stage, John Dexter's sumptuously stylized production
transformed tabloid headlines into a potent truism: that the
heart sees what it sees. Onscreen, the opera singer's gender
is never in question; his 5 o'clock shadow gives him away to
everyone but the diplomat. Jeremy Irons tries manfully, and
John Lone womanfully, to give real life to the characters, but
the close-ups defeat them. So do some unlikely plot points:
the defendant and his accuser are put alone to undress and wrestle
in a police wagon; the diplomat daubs himself as Madama Butterfly
before a rapt audience--of French convicts! Cronenberg is
unlikely to find other spectators as gullible as they.
</p>
<p> If only Leslie Cheung, the beautifully androgynous star of Farewell
My Concubine, had been cast as the singer in M. Butterfly; in
his delicacy and passion, he is enough woman for any man to
fall for. But then Cheung, a Hong Kong actor living in Vancouver,
might not have been available for the role of his career. As
Cheng Dieyi, a homosexual star of the Peking Opera who is riven
by jealousy when his "stage brother" Duan Xiaolou (Zhang Fengyi)
marries a call girl (Gong Li), Cheung is both steely and vulnerable,
with a sexuality that transcends gender--a Mandarin Michael
Jackson.
</p>
<p> Three pairs of actors play Cheng and Duan: as children and then
teenagers in the Peking Opera School and finally as adults.
Imagine that one of those show-biz sagas about performers who
can harmonize only on stage--For the Boys or The Sunshine
Boys--had begun when the main characters really were boys,
and continued for 53 years of love, comradeship and betrayal.
Concubine (cut by about 15 minutes for U.S. release, but still
a rich and savory 2 1/2-hour banquet) hopscotches from the warlord
era to the Japanese occupation to the Cultural Revolution and
beyond. And under each regime, the artist is a pampered slave:
flogged by his teachers, adored by his audience, toyed with
by the elite, denounced by Mao's vindictive masses--and always
asked to do that showstopper, the fable about the king and his
faithful concubine, just one more time.
</p>
<p> Concubine is an Eastern film whose subject, scope and nonstop
bustle will be agreeable to Western moviegoers. Anyone can appreciate
the splendor of the theatrical pageantry or the dagger eyes
of Gong Li, as a dragon lady whose only commandment is survival.
The scenes in the Peking Opera School, where boys are caned
for doing wrong or right, are no less horrifying than the later
tableaus of public humiliation at the hands of the Maoists.
But Chen clearly sympathizes with the schoolmasters. From such
brutality, he suggests, artists are created. Concubine offers
another moral: From the crushing cultural restrictions of the
People's Republic, vibrant popular art like this can emerge.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>