Chen Kaige’s ambitious film Farewell My Concubine (1993) is a melodrama depicting the lives of two men and one woman against the backdrop of fifty plus years of modern Chinese history, covering the period from 1924-1977. It provides the most effective kind of history lesson by illustrating how the political upheaval in China over that time period was reflected in the private lives of the main characters. It won international accolades while being twice banned in China itself.

The Premise of the Story: Farewell My Concubine begins as the story of two men who have spent a career as performers in the Peking Opera. The year is 1977 and the two have met on the stage of a stadium to rehearse for a revival of their famous dual showpiece opera, “Farewell, My Concubine”, after an eleven year hiatus. They are dressed in full costume for their respective parts. The stage manager turns on the spot-lights and the film cuts artistically to the opening credits, after which an extended flashback takes us back to 1924, in Beijing, during the era of the Beijing Warlords.

A woman is carrying her son of about seven through the crowded streets of a squalid neighborhood – an Asian version of a Dickenesque setting. She is an unmarried prostitute, we discover, and her son is Douzi (Ma Mingwei). He has grown too old to live with her at the brothel nor can she afford to support him. Her intent is to turn him over to a training academy that prepares young boys for a career in the Peking Opera. Douzi is rejected by the master of the academy because he has a sixth finger on one hand, which would be too comical for an opera performer. Not to be dissuaded from her singular purpose, Douzi’s mother drags him into an alley and hacks off his extra finger with a knife. She then abandons him at the academy.

Life at the All Luck and Happiness Academy, as it’s called, ironically, is harsh indeed. The boys, all orphans, are driven relentlessly by the strict master through physical and mental hardships that are barely endurable. The training rigors include acrobatics, choreography, stretching and contortion exercises, and physical endurance and coordination workouts. At the same time, they memorize and practice songs and lines. They must learn detailed techniques of performance and makeup application. Even the smallest mistakes are punished by cruel floggings, beatings, and sadistic humiliations. Douzi is initially shunned and harassed by the other boys, as the son of a prostitute, but he is taken under the wing of the oldest and most respected of the boy, Shitou (Fei Yang). Douzi sleeps next to Shitou his first night at the academy.

As these boys slowly grow up together, Douzi and Shitou turn out to be the most talented in the troupe and are pushed most relentlessly and receive the cruelest discipline from the taskmaster, Guan Jifa (Lu Qi). One day, Douzi and another boy run away from the academy and visit the opera. Douzi is so overwhelmed by the beauty of the performance and the popularity of the stars, that he immediately decides to return and devote himself to perfecting his skills. Chinese Opera provides for a limited number of standard roles and each trainee is prepared for a specific kind of role. Douzi is delicate and effeminate with soft features and, since women are not permitted to perform in Chinese Opera, Douzi will be trained expressly for the female parts. At first he is resistant, wanting to be boyish like his best friend Shitou, but gradually he is beaten into submission, learning at last to say, “I am by nature a girl.” He must think of himself as a girl to effectively assume such roles as the concubine in “Farewell, My Concubine.” He learns to sing in falsetto and perfects delicacy of movement. It’s not so much that he is being raised to be homosexual, since sexuality is not yet at issue. He is being intentionally raised with a kind of reversal of gender identity. Shitou, by contrast is brawny and athletic and is being groomed to play the roles of Kings.

By the time the troupe acquires a sponser, Douzi and Shitou are the standouts and their talent gains immediate attention. Unfortunately for Douzi, that attention is, in one instance, the perverted attention of a brutal male adult that results in his being raped. Time passes (thirteen years) and Douzi and Shitou have risen to stardom in the Peking Opera and have taken on stage names. Douzi has become Cheng Dieyi (Leslie Cheung) and Shitou is now Duan Xiaolou (Zhang Fengyi). Chinese Opera is wildly popular in its homeland, being celebrated both as high art by the elite and as popular entertainment among the common people. Dieyi and Xiaolou have celebrity status of superstar proportions. The two remain inseparable. Their lives revolve entirely around their work in opera and both are rather naïve politically. Dieyi and Xiaolou are known nationally for their respective roles in “Farewell, My Concubine”, an opera in which the Chu King suffers a military defeat and is abandoned by all except his horse and his faithful concubine. His horse refuses to run off and his concubine commits suicide in sympathy for her King, by slitting her own throat with the King’s sword while performing a final dance for his benefit. They perform in the glamorous Peking Opera House, which is steeped in age old tradition. Chinese opera involves highly styled movements and plaintive vocalizations. The costumes and props are elaborate, providing an aura of spectacular pageantry.

The relationship between these two glamorous stars begins to change and become more complicated. Cheng Dieyi’s devotion to Xiaolou in real life gradually becomes more and more total, like the devotion of his concubine character for the King. He begins to lose the distinction between stage fantasy and reality. He wants to be bound to Xiaolou for life. Dieyi’s long training for the female stage parts has resulted in gender ambivalence and an emerging homosexual orientation. Xiaolou, by contrast, is clearly strait and sees Dieyi only as a best friend and “stage-brother.” In fact, Xiaolou has a predilection for the local brothel, the House of Blossoms, and, especially, one particular high-class prostitute named Juxian (Gong Li). This difference in sexuality also contributes to a difference is how Dieyi and Xiaolou approach their art. Dieyi is totally devoted to the purity of his art, partly because it is only on stage that he can fully live as a female and as the devoted partner of Xiaolou. Xiaolou, by contrast, though highly professional, enjoys mainly the fame that he derives from his work in opera and separates it from his night life.

Dieyi yearns for greater intimacy with Xiaolou, though he is unable to express it openly. Dieyi becomes increasing demanding of Xiaolou’s affection and attention and becomes jealous and resentful when it is not forthcoming, especially when Xiaolou’s relationship with Juxian progresses to engagement and then marriage. Dieyi very much resents Juxian’s intrusion – as if he were a competing lover. There is one especially revealing scene where Xiaolou and Juxian announce their engagement and Xiaolou asks Dieyi, who is still wearing his concubine makeup, if he will be his best man. The camera zooms in on Dieyi, who looks very much more like a spurned lover than a best friend. That night, at the engagement party, Dieyi shows up just long enough to announce that he will no longer perform with Xiaolou on stage.

That same night also marks the entrance of the Japanese troops into the city. It is 1937. Dieyi manages to survive pretty well during the Japanese occupation because his art is in demand by the Japanese officers. Xiaolou, on the other hand, is more assertively uncooperative and is soon imprisoned. Juxian asks Dieyi to use his influence to help Xiaolou, but Dieyi agrees only after she promises that she will get out of their lives and go back to the House of Blossoms. Dieyi sings for the Japanese in order to effect Xiaolou’s release, but, for his effort, the firmly anti-Japanese Xiaolou spits on Dieyi, accusing him of collaboration. Xiaolou and Juxian remain together.

Dieyi begins a homosexual affair with an opera patron, Master Yuan (Ge You). In one revealing scene, Master Yuan dresses up as the Chu King, Xiaolou’s part in “Farewell, My Concubine”, as they are warming up to a sexual encounter, providing Dieyi with at least the fantasy of consummating his desired relationship with Xiaolou. Yuan gives Dieyi a valuable ancient sword as a gift to mark their relationship as lovers. This sword proves significant at several points during the remainder of the story. Yuan also introduces Dieyi to use of opium, which soon culminates in his addiction. In a period of temporary reconciliation, Dieyi is aided in his recovery from addiction by Xiaolou and Juxian.

After the surrender of the Japanese forces to Chiang Kai Shek’s Nationalist Army in1945, it is Dieyi who feels the sting of the changing political landscape. He is accused of having collaborated with the Japanese. Xiaolou and Juxian try to help him, but Dieyi sabotages their efforts when he discovers that it comes with strings attached by Juxian, that he end his friendship with Xiaolou and his competing claim on Xiaolou’s affections.

After the Communist takeover and during the subsequent Cultural Revolution, Dieyi, Xiaolou, and Juxian all come under attack in the wave of political correctness imposed by the Communist ideologues. The three are pressured into denouncing one another, severely wounding the relationships amongst them, with tragic consequences.

Production Values: Farewell My Concubine is both a vast costume spectacle of epic proportions and an intimate human melodrama. In the former respect, it encompasses the entire modern history of China with energy and with splendid attention to historical details and nuances. The ancient, ritualized art of Chinese opera is beautifully captured in all of its ornate splendor. The musical score for the film is outstanding, especially for those who become attuned to the special quality of opera Chinese style. The color in this film is especially lavish, having been produced in what is likely the last remaining three-strip Technicolor facility.

The intimate, psychological melodrama aspect of the story is essentially a love triangle, although not quite a “classic” love triangle given that the two competitors for Xiaolou’s affections are not the same gender – at least on the surface. Dieyi is a fine example of the complexities that can exist in gender identity and sexual orientation. Most experts on sexual identity and orientation argue that the simple dichotomy of heterosexual versus homosexual (or even the trichotomy if bisexuality is added into the mix) does not accurately encompass the variety of sexual identities that exist. In a way, Dieyi is not so much a man in love with a man as a man who has learned to think of himself as a woman in love with a man. Dieyi’s love of Xiaolou is heterosexual in its essence, despite the fact that Dieyi is physically a male. Farewell My Concubine provides us with three marvelously complex characters. All three of the principals exhibit instances of heroism and betrayal, selfishness and unselfishness. Xiaolou is both loyal and selfish, betraying both Deiyi and Juxian at one time or another. Deiyi is likewise both faithful and treacherous. Juxian is scheming and manipulative but, at other times, forgiving and maternal. None of the three behave in an exemplary manner over the entire course of the film, but how many of us could have done better, living amidst the terrible strains of those difficult historical times in China? Farewell My Concubine is a story without heroes, which may go a long way in explaining why it was banned twice in China.

The focus on Chinese opera proves a marvelous vehicle for examining twentieth century Chinese history. It establishes a stark contrast because Chinese opera requires perfection, order, and careful attention to every detail of movement and vocalization. Chinese history during the time period of this film, by contrast, was extremely chaotic. Historical events and ideology during this time were so powerful and determinate that they overwhelmed individual human motivations and psychology, destroying many individuals in the sweep of grand historical events and deeply scarring many of those who survived.

The performances are very strong. Gong Li, the best known member of the cast, was excellent as always, though no better than her two co-stars. Gong Li’s other well-known credits include Red Sorghum (1987) (See my review at Red Sorghum), Ju Dou (1989), Raise the Red Lantern (1991), and The Emperor and the Assassin (1999). There were no noticeably weak performances among the supporting cast either.

Chen’s script was produced by screenwriters Lilian Lee and Lu Wei, based on novel by Lee. Director Chen Kaige had first-hand experience with the cultural revolution and was intimidated into denouncing his own father, who was a filmmaker as well. Chen has felt great shame for succumbing, as did so many other, to the pressures of the cultural revolution. Chen’s father helped in the production of Farewell My Concubine, in the capacity of artistic director. Chen is a prominent member of the so-called Fifth Generation of Chinese filmmakers.

Bottom-Line: Farewell My Concubine won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 1993 (more precisely, it was co-winner with The Piano). It lost out to the rather light-weight Spanish film, La Belle Epoque, at the Academy Awards. It is a true masterpiece that attempts much and successfully accomplishes most, though not all, of what it attempts. The integration of history and the personal stories of the three principals is not always convincingly realized. Sometimes the two aspects of the story seem to be proceeding on parallel tracks rather than being fully concatenated. The major political events have to be announced in the subtitles, which is a sure sign that they are not largely comprehensible from the story itself. At two-and-a-half hours, the film is somewhat long, though I personally experienced no impatience with its pace. The first half of the film that depicts the youthful life of Douzi and Shitou is fully successful; the second half is pretty darn good but a little overwrought and overlong. Farewell My Concubine is rated R and is clearly not appropriate for children of any age, especially given the brutality of treatment of children in the first half of the film. This film is in Mandarin Chinese with English subtitles.

This film will never have an especially large audience for several reasons: its length, its focus on Chinese opera (for which few westerners have developed any taste or interest), themes of gender identity realignment and prostitution, its emphasis on Chinese history (about which few Americans have much interest or understanding), and the necessity of reading subtitles. Yet, for those who look past these surface limitations, there is great appeal in this marvelous film, both as an introduction to the life and times in China and as a taut melodrama about three complex and fascinating characters.


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You might want to check out these other excellent films from China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan:

Chungking Express
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
Eat Drink Man Woman
The Emperor and the Assassin
Fallen Angels
Hero
In the Mood for Love
Raise the Red Lantern
Red Sorghum
Road Home
Shanghai Triad
The Story of Qiu Ju
Temptress Moon
Together
To Live
What Time is it There?
The Women From the Lake of Scented Souls
Yi Yi

Recommended:
Yes

Video Occasion: Better than Watching TV
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age