A Chinese Actress Blossoms on the Screen By HOWARD FEINSTE IN APRIL 11, 1993 NYTIMES

In Chinese, Hua Ping, actually a flower vase, is a pejorative term for a beautiful but empty actress. Some Chinese-speaking moviegoers reportedly applied the words to Gong Li after her debut in Zhang Yimou's 1988 film "Red Sorghum." But the criticism abated after Mr. Zhang's next two films -- "Ju Dou" in 1990 and "Raise the Red Lantern" in 1991 -- in which Gong Li played the leads.

Last year's "Story of Qiu Ju," with Gong Li in the title role, may have silenced the skeptics forever. The film, which opens on Friday at the Lincoln Plaza in Manhattan, won the top prize at the Venice Film Festival, and Gong Li took the award for best actress. When "The Story of Qiu Ju," also directed by Mr. Zhang, played last fall at the New York Film Festival, Janet Maslin of The Times praised the actress for emerging once again "as a figure of astonishing fortitude."

The film, a jab at the pervasive bureaucracy that cripples China, is a comedy about how society bruises one of its members -- literally. The 27-year-old Gong Li portrays the pregnant wife of a chili farmer, Quinglai, who has been kicked in the groin by the village chief for commenting that the chief fathers only "hens."

Qiu Ju trudges frustratingly through rural and urban courts just to get an official explanation for this offense. When she enters a life-threatening labor, the chief helps to save both mother and newborn. The child being a son, all forget the now-repaired damage to Quinglai's masculinity. Only then do the police arrive, with less than impeccable timing, to arrest the chief.

In drawing the character of Qiu Ju, Mr. Zhang recalled the gestures and speech patterns of expectant women in his birthplace, Shanxi, the city in northern China near the village where the film was shot.

When they get pregnant, they walk slowly, and they're short of breath," he explained. "So when I drew this character, I made her short of energy. I told Gong Li, 'Slow -- psychologically and physically.' Qiu Ju represents the perseverance of Chinese women, which contrasts with her slowness."

In preparing for her roles, Gong Li typically reads a script, then lays it aside until just before each take. Her performances are instinctive, she says, and her abilities as a mimic enable her to adopt regional accents quickly and convincingly.

"An actor should not memorize every line but should allow new things to happen," she said. "I need a collaboration with the director and other actors, something at the location that allows something else to emerge."

For two months before the filming of "The Story of Qiu Ju," Gong Li lived in a small farming community, committing herself so strongly to the role of a pregnant peasant that she wore only the heavy pads and oversized flannel jackets that enhance the frumpiness of the character.

Like Qiu Ju, she is persistent. Says Chen Kaige, who directed her in the recent Hong Kong-Chinese co-production "Farewell to My Concubine": "She would say, 'I don't think this dialogue is going to work. Think about it. You're the artist and decision maker.' "

Her attitude toward her craft is workmanlike. "I like my job very much," says Gong Li, the daughter of a university professor and an archivist from Shantung province, in northeastern China. "I don't think of myself as a star. An actress is nothing remarkable."

Nevertheless, she notes a difference between her approach and that of more commercially minded actors in Taiwan and Hong Kong (despite her own occasional forays into the less arty fare that is characteristic of assembly-line film making in Hong Kong): "Those actresses don't have time to experience the lives of their characters, but I'm willing to take the hardships."

The 43-year-old Mr. Zhang and Gong Li are personal as well as professional partners. The film maker, who was married at the time, discovered the actress while casting "Red Sorghum," when she was a sophomore at the Central Academy of Drama in Beijing, and their relationship began soon after. In "Red Sorghum," Gong Li played a purchased bride, a role that displayed her physical beauty more than her dramatic talent, prompting some critics to brand her a hua ping.

In "Farewell to My Concubine," which will compete next month at the Cannes International Film Festival, the actress is a former prostitute named Juxian, who is married to one of two homosexual lovers from the Beijing Opera. As the character ages 40 years, Gong Li exhibits a new range of talents. "She comes completely alive at the moment when the camera starts rolling," says Mr. Chen. "She becomes a very different person."

Juxian and Qiu Ju extend a trajectory of portrayals by Gong Li that have become increasingly more complex. In "Red Sorghum," she ultimately instigates a village revolt against the occupying Japanese. Her young wives in "Ju Dou" and "Raise the Red Lantern" also rebel, gradually evolving into vengeful adultress and madwoman, respectively. In "The Story of Qiu Ju," she is quietly outspoken and independent: she fights what should be her husband's battle. At film's end, the camera frozen on her unadorned face, she seems to be preparing for yet another round of attacks on an elephantine system. While celebrating the strength of Chinese women, this final close-up also signals a victory for Gong Li over the stigma of hua ping.

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A version of this article appears in print on April 11, 1993, on Page 2002022 of the National edition with the headline: FILM; A Chinese Actress Blossoms on the Screen.

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Social Realist Fable of 1930's China By VINCENT CANBY OCT. 9, 1988. NYTIMES

''Red Sorghum,'' Zhang Yimou's new Chinese film, begins very prettily, and with something of the ho-ho-ho joviality exhibited by the members of the chorus in a stock production of ''The Student Prince.''

The time is the 1920's. A beautiful young woman, concealed inside a bride's traditional sedan chair, is being carried through an arid landscape to her arranged marriage with a rich old wine maker. As they are expected to do, the bearers bounce the sedan chair around a lot and sing naughty songs.

The bride-to-be is miserable, not only with the horseplay but also in anticipation of marriage to a man who is over 50 and who has leprosy. Her father, a farmer, has exchanged her for a new mule.

As the procession passes through a photogenic field of waving sorghum, which looks rather like Kansas corn without ears, a masked bandit jumps out of the foliage and demands the bearers' money. After he has pocketed the coins, he throws back the curtain hiding the young woman and pulls her out.

Nine, as she is called, does not resist. She looks at the bandit eye-to-eye. In what is to be the best moment in all of ''Red Sorghum,'' it is realized that, for Nine, rape by a masked bandit is preferable to marriage to a rich, aging leper. Nine has a mind of her own.

Rape, however, is not to be; at least, not right away. Nine is saved by one of the bearers, a big, primative brute of a man full of passion and elemental force. Once the bandit is skewered, the bearers pulled together, and Nine back inside the sedan chair, the procession continues.

''Red Sorghum,'' which won the Golden Bear as the best film shown at this year's Berlin Film Festival, is an exotic fable, related by an unseen soundtrack narrator who identifies himself as the grandson of Nine.

''Some people believe the story, and some people don't,'' says the narrator. He is speaking today, as he recalls the unconventional courtship of his grandmother by his grandfather, who turns out to be the fellow who saved Nine from the bandit.

''Red Sorghum'' will be shown tonight at 8:30 at Avery Fisher Hall to close the 26th New York Film Festival. It opens tomorrow at the Lincoln Plaza.

The film arrives here already widely praised as one of the best examples of the work now being done by China's ''new wave'' of film makers, sometimes called ''the Fifth Generation.'' These are the people who have come out of Beijing's Film Academy since 1982, in the first classes to be graduated after the Cultural Revolution.

Not having any knowledge of the sort of films the Chinese were making before, I've no way of knowing exactly why these films (including ''The Girl from Hunan,'' released earlier this year) are regarded as breakthroughs. Seen in the context of the international film scene, ''Red Sorghum'' is something less than an epiphany.

It is a handsomely produced, finally lugubrious piece of exotica about picturesque peasants who, in the 1930's when the Japanese invade and the chips are down, don't hesitate to make the ultimate sacrifice. Though it's a fable, the point of view is still that of social realist cinema.

Nine may not be typical of Chinese women of her time, but she is an idealization of the progressive woman of our time. She's the only affecting character in the film. Yet she is always seen in a metaphorical long shot. She's less an individual than a representation.

So, too, is life at the winery where, even before the Communist Revolution, the work is done as if on a collective. Everybody is on a first-name basis. Life is happy. Even the earthy humor seems generalized, having a lot to do with urinating in unusual places.

Zhang Yimou, a cameraman making his debut as a director, uses a lot of compositions that may look striking to some but just self-conscious to others. One favorite: a broad flat landscape with a thin ribbon of sky at the top. He also likes the same sort of color filters with which Joshua Logan punctuated his film version of ''South Pacific.''

When Nine is eventually raped, not entirely against her will, by the bearer who becomes Grandpa, the soundtrack swells with more romantic music than has been heard in any movie since David Lean's ''Ryan's Daughter.'' The film's most daring character is the comically drunken hero, who represents, apparently, the assertive life force.

Yet he, too, is less a specific character than a representation of a general type. ''Red Sorghum'' may look avant-garde in terms of movies made during China's Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), but its supposedly innovative epic style looks decidedly old-fashioned here. The best thing that can be said about the movie is that it's far better than its title. ORIENT EXPRESSION RED SORGHUM, directed by Zhang Yimou; screenplay (Mandarin with English subtitles) by Chen Jianyu, Zhu Wei and Mo Yan, based on a story by Mo Yan; photography by Gu Changwei; music by Zhao Jiping; art direction by Yang Gang; production company, Xian Film Studio; released by New Yorker Films. At Alice Tully Hall, as part of the New York Film Festival. Running time: 91 minutes. This film has no rating. Grandmother; Nine . . . Gong Li Grandfather . . . Jiang Wen Father . . . Liu Ji Luohan . . . Teng Ru-Jun Sanpao . . . Ji Cun Hua

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A version of this review appears in print on October 9, 1988, on Page 1001074 of the National edition with the headline: Film Festival; Social Realist Fable of 1930's China.

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Chinese Film Named Best In Berlin . AP FEB. 25, 1988 NYTIMES

''The Red Sorghum Field,'' an epic film about seduction and war in China, has won the best-picture award at the 38th Berlin Film Festival.

The best-director prize was given Tuesday to Norman Jewison for his romantic comedy ''Moonstruck,'' while Holly Hunter was named best actress for her portrayal of an ambitious television producer in ''Broadcast News.''

Jorg Pose and Manfred Mock shared the best-actor honors for their work in the East German entry ''Bear Ye One Another's Burden.''

Sir Alec Guinness was given a Golden Bear award for his life's work, and received a standing ovation from the 1,200 people crowded into the Zoopalast for the ceremony.

Sir Alec, a 74-year-old, two-time Oscar winner, made his stage debut in 1934 and has become known worldwide for his versatility on stage and screen. Director's First Feature

Twenty films from 15 countries competed for first prize at the festival, which is considered Europe's second most prestigious movie competition after the Cannes Film Festival in France.

''The Red Sorghum Field,'' the first feature film by its director, Zhang Yimou, is set in a remote province of China during the late 1920's and early 1930's. It tells the story of a young married woman who is seduced by a distillery worker and bears his child. Her life is then engulfed by the Japanese invasion of China.

''This is the first time that a Chinese film has received such a great honor in Europe,'' Mr. Zhang said. ''I am especially happy for my friends and co-workers.''

Mr. Zhang, who studied at the Beijing Film Institute, won the best acting award at the 1987 Tokyo Film Festival for his role in the film ''The Old Well.'' He belongs to a new generation of Chinese movie makers whose films examine sexuality and human emotion more realistically than Chinese films have done in recent years.

''This generation of movie makers was very young when the Cultural Revolution broke out in China,'' Mr. Zhang said. 'More Future-Minded'

''They are the young people who experienced the Cultural Revolution for 10 years,'' he said. ''Because of this special experience, they have an unusual point of view. They are more future-minded - they have different expectations. They want to break with China of the past and represent the modern Chinese society.''

Moviegoers packed West Berlin theaters during the 12-day festival, and many films were sold out several hours before their showing. Long lines of people waited to buy tickets for ''Broadcast News'' and ''Wall Street.''

The festival ended Tuesday night with a showing of Steven Spielberg's ''Empire of the Sun,'' which was not an entry in the competition.

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A version of this article appears in print on February 25, 1988, on Page C00025 of the National edition with the headline: Chinese Film Named Best In Berlin.

Zhang Yimou & Gong Li

Sobre o autor  e a musa na nossa biblioteca especializada:

AUTOR	TÍTULO	LOCAL EDIÇÃO	EDITORA	ANO EDIÇÃO
FARO, Cineclube de	China Aqui ao lado (A)	Faro	Cineclube de Faro	1994

 

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