Here I am in the city of my birth. So far the weather has been very nice, cool but not cold, slightly wet, slighty drizzley, as befitting winters here. I've had some goooood food. But I confess, the simple thrill of being here sometimes affect my taste buds to the extent that everything at first taste absolutely divine.
Everyday has been very hectic. I've been rushing around with my mom, hitting up place A and then place B and then place C. It's a constant rush. I'm tired, but I feel like it's worth it.
I will have to write later because I got to rush off now for further social obligations...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Saturday, January 13, 2007
The Clan of the Great Cave Bear
Each time I see this book (and I've seen it many times now over the years of my persusal at bookstores or libraries), I have a vague feeling that we've met before, but I could never be quite certain if I've actually read this book.
So recently I picked it up at the library to satisfy my curiosity once and for all. Last night, then, I spent six very companionable hours with this book. Six hours! I started reading the book at 10 PM, and by the time I finished, it was pushing 4 AM. I was amazed how fast time flew, but I was deeply immersed in the story so that's why six hours passed in a blink of an eye.
The story tells of a young blond girl, whom, at five years old, was separated from her family and adopted by a different clan, a group of people that are wholly different from her, not just appearance-wise, but on some level, they are in a different evolutionary branch altogether. However (spoiler alert) she is able to produce viable offspring with a clan member, so they must be within the same species at least.
The writing is descriptive and expansive, sparing no words to describe scenes and people. It's not brilliant writing, because it takes about 200 words to say what a more accomplished writer might be able to say in 50. From a literary standpoint, it's easy reading but the story is close cousin to the dime and nickel romance adventure novels. However, I would still give kudos to the author who made some very detailed narrative sketches of a woman who finds her inner strength, develops her skills and mind to defy a clan of neantherthals (essentially).
What also gives the story warmth and depth is the deep love that she shares with her two adoptive parents, a shaman of the clan, who is an old, crippled man filled with wisdom before his time. The other woman is a medicine woman, and sister to the shaman. The profession of medicine is unabashedly elevated to a status of honor and almost spiritual importance.
The part I like best is when she begins to secretly teach herself to hunt by using a sling weapon. It's a taboo within the clan for females to hunt (any woman who touches a weapon is severely reprimanded and if she should hunt, they are cursed with death) So my inner feminist was ra-raing the whole time while I read about her becoming as good or better than anybody in the clan with the slingshot weapon.
In short, this book was a very feminist saga of one woman who was adopted by people very different than her and imposes strict rules and regulations of male and female hiearchy. As this novel was written in 1980, I have a feeling that the whole struggle for female rights is not far from this author's mind. Yet it was also couched in a story of love, of adventure, of survival and makes for a great Friday night reading.
So recently I picked it up at the library to satisfy my curiosity once and for all. Last night, then, I spent six very companionable hours with this book. Six hours! I started reading the book at 10 PM, and by the time I finished, it was pushing 4 AM. I was amazed how fast time flew, but I was deeply immersed in the story so that's why six hours passed in a blink of an eye.
The story tells of a young blond girl, whom, at five years old, was separated from her family and adopted by a different clan, a group of people that are wholly different from her, not just appearance-wise, but on some level, they are in a different evolutionary branch altogether. However (spoiler alert) she is able to produce viable offspring with a clan member, so they must be within the same species at least.
The writing is descriptive and expansive, sparing no words to describe scenes and people. It's not brilliant writing, because it takes about 200 words to say what a more accomplished writer might be able to say in 50. From a literary standpoint, it's easy reading but the story is close cousin to the dime and nickel romance adventure novels. However, I would still give kudos to the author who made some very detailed narrative sketches of a woman who finds her inner strength, develops her skills and mind to defy a clan of neantherthals (essentially).
What also gives the story warmth and depth is the deep love that she shares with her two adoptive parents, a shaman of the clan, who is an old, crippled man filled with wisdom before his time. The other woman is a medicine woman, and sister to the shaman. The profession of medicine is unabashedly elevated to a status of honor and almost spiritual importance.
The part I like best is when she begins to secretly teach herself to hunt by using a sling weapon. It's a taboo within the clan for females to hunt (any woman who touches a weapon is severely reprimanded and if she should hunt, they are cursed with death) So my inner feminist was ra-raing the whole time while I read about her becoming as good or better than anybody in the clan with the slingshot weapon.
In short, this book was a very feminist saga of one woman who was adopted by people very different than her and imposes strict rules and regulations of male and female hiearchy. As this novel was written in 1980, I have a feeling that the whole struggle for female rights is not far from this author's mind. Yet it was also couched in a story of love, of adventure, of survival and makes for a great Friday night reading.
Friday, January 12, 2007
The Diet Coke Story
This afternoon, seized as I was by a sudden attack of thirst, I fumbled through my wallet for change. The machine was finicky about the dollar bill and has been known to swallow the paper and then go into a bill induced coma, unresponsive to all kicking and screaming by the frustrated consumer.
So, being ever so clever, I scrounged up a dollar and walked around the lab to ask for change. Person A, always kind and helpful, managed to dig up 90 cents. I went to Person B, slightly more gruff but still nice at heart, and he tossed me a dime. I was very grateful with my handful of coins and jingled them in my pocket on my way to the vending machine.
When I got there, I put everything in meticulously and pressed on the WATER button. Dasani beckons allluringly like a sea siren. However, the reverie stopped there, abruptly, when I realize that the machine was silent and stony. Nothing. Slightly alarmed, I went to push another button when HORROR of HORRORS, I hit Diet Coke instead. NOOOOOO! I was the picture of "Scream" my friends, as I clasped my head in agony and deep anguish. I was ready to beat my chest in despair, and slam my head against the wall. Okay, no I wasn't. But what I really did do was pump my fist in aggravation and even hopped a little. It was very uncharacteristic of me, but for some reason, I was all id today, I want my drink and I want it now! Person A happened to be in the same room at the time and witnessed my tantrum, she couldn't help chuckling and said, you're funny when you get upset. That's because I am usually a kabuki/botox/mask girl, I show no emotions, apparently.
Anyways, the story doesn't end here. As luck would have it, a guy in my lab LOVES diet coke, so my first thought was to pawn it off him. I went to him and tried to sell it to him. However, he saw through my ruse and very shrewdly gives me 60 cents in exchange for my room-temp diet coke. I took it meekly, because I know he was doing me a favor. The rest of the lab laughed and ribbed him hard for taking advantage of a postbac, who gets paid next to nothing. I said, this is why I'm not in business, because I'm always gonna be the one who gets ripped off.
But 60 cents wasn't enough to get another drink, so I went to my wallet once more and scrounged up another dollar bill and marched back to the machine. Lo and behold, the machine took my dollar bill without a hitch!!! And then I got an ice tea out of it. When I got back to my desk, I found that he had replaced the 60 cents with a dollar, for feeling somewhat bad, he very good humouredly bought my diet coke for the full price. All this was going on to the great amusement of my lab mates, who thought it was very funny that there was so much to do over one small drink.
So, being ever so clever, I scrounged up a dollar and walked around the lab to ask for change. Person A, always kind and helpful, managed to dig up 90 cents. I went to Person B, slightly more gruff but still nice at heart, and he tossed me a dime. I was very grateful with my handful of coins and jingled them in my pocket on my way to the vending machine.
When I got there, I put everything in meticulously and pressed on the WATER button. Dasani beckons allluringly like a sea siren. However, the reverie stopped there, abruptly, when I realize that the machine was silent and stony. Nothing. Slightly alarmed, I went to push another button when HORROR of HORRORS, I hit Diet Coke instead. NOOOOOO! I was the picture of "Scream" my friends, as I clasped my head in agony and deep anguish. I was ready to beat my chest in despair, and slam my head against the wall. Okay, no I wasn't. But what I really did do was pump my fist in aggravation and even hopped a little. It was very uncharacteristic of me, but for some reason, I was all id today, I want my drink and I want it now! Person A happened to be in the same room at the time and witnessed my tantrum, she couldn't help chuckling and said, you're funny when you get upset. That's because I am usually a kabuki/botox/mask girl, I show no emotions, apparently.
Anyways, the story doesn't end here. As luck would have it, a guy in my lab LOVES diet coke, so my first thought was to pawn it off him. I went to him and tried to sell it to him. However, he saw through my ruse and very shrewdly gives me 60 cents in exchange for my room-temp diet coke. I took it meekly, because I know he was doing me a favor. The rest of the lab laughed and ribbed him hard for taking advantage of a postbac, who gets paid next to nothing. I said, this is why I'm not in business, because I'm always gonna be the one who gets ripped off.
But 60 cents wasn't enough to get another drink, so I went to my wallet once more and scrounged up another dollar bill and marched back to the machine. Lo and behold, the machine took my dollar bill without a hitch!!! And then I got an ice tea out of it. When I got back to my desk, I found that he had replaced the 60 cents with a dollar, for feeling somewhat bad, he very good humouredly bought my diet coke for the full price. All this was going on to the great amusement of my lab mates, who thought it was very funny that there was so much to do over one small drink.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Persuasion
I just spent the last three hours immersed in Jane Austen's last novel. Reading a romantic novel such as this always puts me in a pensive mood. I enjoyed the novel for its insights to the human heart, the intricacies of a woman in love complete with the full portrayal of insecurities, jealousies, cowardice, pining, subtlety of gestures and stealthy observations to satisfy one's many whimsical questions and curiosities.
I'm less satisfied with the portrayal of the men in the novel though, because they seem to be less complete, less abundantly and fully fleshed out.
But putting aside my inner literary critic, I want to talk at length about this thing called persuasion. It is true that people in positions of authority or are perceived wiser by virtue of their age or experience have the power of persuasion. They can greatly influence a less experienced person, to sway a person's way of thinking.
I'm often quite torn between the american ideals of independent thinking (self-reliance per Emerson) and following the well meaning advice of my elders, when they run contrary to my wishes. I've been told that I'm actually a very willful person, despite my laidback persona. I can't decide whether to be pleased or troubled by such an adjective. I suppose only time will tell, in a strictly practical manner, whether being willful leads to fruitful and abundant living or a joyless muck of an existence.
Such is my state of mind too when it comes to the subject of dating and marriage. It seems to me like everyone has their ideas of what would be "good" for me. I sometimes find myself wondering whether or not I truly know what's best for me. Will I be a silly foolish woman, running after the appearance of true love only to find out that it's an empty facade? Will I be a smart thinking individual, with both feet planted solidly on the ground and approach the problem from multiple angles? As I'm getting ready to embrace the twilight zone of my 20's, I have to admit that being more cautious, being more wary, being more cognizant of various factors play a bigger and bigger role. Gone are my impulsive and happy go lucky college days when I'm not capable of thinking beyond a year in advance. I think I've now progressed to at least thinking 4-5 years in advance. All this thinking though, based mostly on wonderings and endless musings, have been more than a little wearisome.
When being somewhat tired or restless, my inner houdini kicks into high gear and I think with much relish to the summer when I can take a nice long trip to anywhere in the world really, but most likely asia. I would like at least part of the trip to be a solitary sojourn, for me to travel the world, fancy myself a character in a fairy tale (to seek her fortunes in the world) and hopefully to learn more about myself at the end of the trip, or gain some pearls of wisdom through various encounters along the way.
I'm less satisfied with the portrayal of the men in the novel though, because they seem to be less complete, less abundantly and fully fleshed out.
But putting aside my inner literary critic, I want to talk at length about this thing called persuasion. It is true that people in positions of authority or are perceived wiser by virtue of their age or experience have the power of persuasion. They can greatly influence a less experienced person, to sway a person's way of thinking.
I'm often quite torn between the american ideals of independent thinking (self-reliance per Emerson) and following the well meaning advice of my elders, when they run contrary to my wishes. I've been told that I'm actually a very willful person, despite my laidback persona. I can't decide whether to be pleased or troubled by such an adjective. I suppose only time will tell, in a strictly practical manner, whether being willful leads to fruitful and abundant living or a joyless muck of an existence.
Such is my state of mind too when it comes to the subject of dating and marriage. It seems to me like everyone has their ideas of what would be "good" for me. I sometimes find myself wondering whether or not I truly know what's best for me. Will I be a silly foolish woman, running after the appearance of true love only to find out that it's an empty facade? Will I be a smart thinking individual, with both feet planted solidly on the ground and approach the problem from multiple angles? As I'm getting ready to embrace the twilight zone of my 20's, I have to admit that being more cautious, being more wary, being more cognizant of various factors play a bigger and bigger role. Gone are my impulsive and happy go lucky college days when I'm not capable of thinking beyond a year in advance. I think I've now progressed to at least thinking 4-5 years in advance. All this thinking though, based mostly on wonderings and endless musings, have been more than a little wearisome.
When being somewhat tired or restless, my inner houdini kicks into high gear and I think with much relish to the summer when I can take a nice long trip to anywhere in the world really, but most likely asia. I would like at least part of the trip to be a solitary sojourn, for me to travel the world, fancy myself a character in a fairy tale (to seek her fortunes in the world) and hopefully to learn more about myself at the end of the trip, or gain some pearls of wisdom through various encounters along the way.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Wormy morning
Today is a gloomy Monday morning. The steady rain that started from the night before ensured one thing: thoroughly soaked land and mass migration of worms from down below. I've never been more grossed out, as I first walked from the garage to my car and as per my custom, would look down to gingerly step over the various megadriles sprawled in every which way. I saw fat ones that were easy to sidestep and really thin ones. In fact, to my horror, I think a lot of earthworm babies had just been birthed, because I saw so many thin pink string like objects on the ground and seriously, it was like Times Square for worms.
At my work place, I had to walk about 4 minutes to the building. That was a harrowing trip and as I walked to the building, I was chanting "gross gross gross" to myself, as I once again traveled in hip hops, trying to not be the reason certain earthworms meet their maker today. I also tried not to breathe or inhale too deeply because you can smell the scent of squashed worms in the air. I was especially fascinated and disgusted at the same time by this particularly FAT long juicy oozing worm. It was so big. I think it's an all you can eat buffet for some lucky birds out there.
Okay enough about worms, seriously, I need to get a life as I just spent the last 15 minutes expounding on the topic of these legless creepy crawlies.
At my work place, I had to walk about 4 minutes to the building. That was a harrowing trip and as I walked to the building, I was chanting "gross gross gross" to myself, as I once again traveled in hip hops, trying to not be the reason certain earthworms meet their maker today. I also tried not to breathe or inhale too deeply because you can smell the scent of squashed worms in the air. I was especially fascinated and disgusted at the same time by this particularly FAT long juicy oozing worm. It was so big. I think it's an all you can eat buffet for some lucky birds out there.
Okay enough about worms, seriously, I need to get a life as I just spent the last 15 minutes expounding on the topic of these legless creepy crawlies.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
oh YES
I am the woman!!! I just fixed my aunt's computer and made it internet accessible by installing a wireless pci card into the computer. I did it with great hesitation and more than a little trepidation because the first time I attempted such a stunt, the computer's motherboard decided to buy a one way ticket to heaven. Which is to say, it died. After much hullahoo, we finally got another motherboard in place and at first I wanted to just use some plug and play wireless adaptor, but that was a piece of crap.
I'm so happy I'm blogging away even while the computer is still not put together fully. I guess I just wanted to gloat about my awesome hands on skills.
Hm..well...since I'm blogging anyway, I might as well provide some ever so exciting updates. I watched a Chinese film called Peony Pavilion which documented this ambiguous and more than a little sensual relationship between two women. But the hottest scene of all was when one of the women had an affair with her coworker. That guy is HOT. His name is Daniel Wu, if anyone's interested in oogling. He's got a nice build.
One poor member of my family, due to a slip, is now condemned to walk around with an arm in the sling. I am designated her "right-hand woman" -- literally, since it's her right hand that's out of commission for the time being. I am learning how to serve, but sometimes, I admit, not as gladly as I should be, especially when I'm preoccupied with my own thing, which is about 99% of the time.
I have to finish Persuasion by 1/11 in time for my new book discussion club's inaugurated meeting. I hope I will be able to finish in time and then intelligently put in some input. My lit hum professors will be so proud.
I'm so happy I'm blogging away even while the computer is still not put together fully. I guess I just wanted to gloat about my awesome hands on skills.
Hm..well...since I'm blogging anyway, I might as well provide some ever so exciting updates. I watched a Chinese film called Peony Pavilion which documented this ambiguous and more than a little sensual relationship between two women. But the hottest scene of all was when one of the women had an affair with her coworker. That guy is HOT. His name is Daniel Wu, if anyone's interested in oogling. He's got a nice build.
One poor member of my family, due to a slip, is now condemned to walk around with an arm in the sling. I am designated her "right-hand woman" -- literally, since it's her right hand that's out of commission for the time being. I am learning how to serve, but sometimes, I admit, not as gladly as I should be, especially when I'm preoccupied with my own thing, which is about 99% of the time.
I have to finish Persuasion by 1/11 in time for my new book discussion club's inaugurated meeting. I hope I will be able to finish in time and then intelligently put in some input. My lit hum professors will be so proud.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
The BABY's bill of rights
On my way to work today I heard an interesting debate regarding two parents' decision to stunt the growth of their nine year old mentally disabled child, thereby, through artificial means, keep her childlike for the rest of her life. At nine years old, she has the bone age of a 15 year old, therefore, at about 4 feet 5 inches or so, she has already grown to 99% of her total height. Through surgery, she will never develop a womanly figure, nor be able to give birth, nor even to have menstruation like a fully grown woman.
Outraged callers from all over the world are tsk-tsking the actions and decisions of these parents and horrified at the violation of this child's human rights. However, they should bear in mind that the nine year old child has the mental capacity of a 3-month old baby, she can't lift her head, she can't walk, she can't even swallow food, but is fed through a feeding tube.
Although the procedures are indeed drastic and irreversible, and I question the long term health benefits of injecting her with such high doses of hormonal treatments to alter growth, let's face it, this is not a person capable of making and executing decisions for herself. Leave her on the street somewhere and she'd perish within a day or two. Her entire life is kept up through very artificial means. The word "normal" in her life is turned upside down. She may develop sex organs but she will not be a normal woman. The fact that she can develop "normally" in a physical way does not mean that in fact, she will indeed live a normal productive adult life.
Maybe I'm short on patience when it comes to the more practical matters, but the way I see it, the parents are the ones who will be her hand and foot slaves for the rest of their lives, If they feel they can take better care of her as a 65 lb "child" instead of a 150-200 lb grown woman, all the power to them. At the end of the day, taking care of a mentally disabled and physically incapacitated person is no walk in the park. The parents have actually written a blog trying to defend their decisions based on the fact that it was good for her, not just merely convenient for them. However, and this may be offensive to some people, I think it's perfectly alright that the parents may have also done these treatments on their daughter with the intent of making it easier on themselves too.
What is the problem here? This child, essentially a mindless creature, most likely devoid of self-consciousness, has the right to be loved and to be cared for by the people who will do so. That's IT. As far as I'm concerned, she has as many rights as the baby who has to get a polo vaccine shot. It would be absurd to expect a baby to clutch a baby sized pen in his chubby fingers and meticulously sign on the dotted line.
Outraged callers from all over the world are tsk-tsking the actions and decisions of these parents and horrified at the violation of this child's human rights. However, they should bear in mind that the nine year old child has the mental capacity of a 3-month old baby, she can't lift her head, she can't walk, she can't even swallow food, but is fed through a feeding tube.
Although the procedures are indeed drastic and irreversible, and I question the long term health benefits of injecting her with such high doses of hormonal treatments to alter growth, let's face it, this is not a person capable of making and executing decisions for herself. Leave her on the street somewhere and she'd perish within a day or two. Her entire life is kept up through very artificial means. The word "normal" in her life is turned upside down. She may develop sex organs but she will not be a normal woman. The fact that she can develop "normally" in a physical way does not mean that in fact, she will indeed live a normal productive adult life.
Maybe I'm short on patience when it comes to the more practical matters, but the way I see it, the parents are the ones who will be her hand and foot slaves for the rest of their lives, If they feel they can take better care of her as a 65 lb "child" instead of a 150-200 lb grown woman, all the power to them. At the end of the day, taking care of a mentally disabled and physically incapacitated person is no walk in the park. The parents have actually written a blog trying to defend their decisions based on the fact that it was good for her, not just merely convenient for them. However, and this may be offensive to some people, I think it's perfectly alright that the parents may have also done these treatments on their daughter with the intent of making it easier on themselves too.
What is the problem here? This child, essentially a mindless creature, most likely devoid of self-consciousness, has the right to be loved and to be cared for by the people who will do so. That's IT. As far as I'm concerned, she has as many rights as the baby who has to get a polo vaccine shot. It would be absurd to expect a baby to clutch a baby sized pen in his chubby fingers and meticulously sign on the dotted line.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
January First, immersed in the Curse
Monday night I went to watch the new film by Zhang Yimou titled “Curse of the Golden Flower.” It was so irisdescent and awashed with color, that it bordered on being an eyesore, but only in certain scenes. I was unprepared for the heaviness of this film, of an order that matched the darkest Shakespearean tragedy. Bold colors of gold, aqua blue, magenta pink, rich embers of hues decorate the cinematography. Watching this, I get the sense that Zhang Yimou was not so much a film director, but a painter artist at heart.
The opening scenes showing the multitudes of palace slaves getting ready for their day reminded me of how it was in Spirited Away, when you get a grand bird’s eye view of the spa house and what it took for all its oiled parts to kick into gear at the same time. Except in this movie, it took precision and clockwork team effort to a whole new level. Everyone did everything in synchronous motion, from brushing hair, putting on dresses and going through morning toiletries. It emphasized more than ever the dehumanization of any one person, the robotization of mankind.
Gong-li was resplendent and convincing as the miserable but still regal empress. She carries the noble burden very admirably and is able to, despite a certain distance that separates us lowly human beings from her, convey the universal themes of human emotion: jealousy, anxiety, bitterness, resignation, anger, and borderline insanity. One of my beefs with this film would be that no comic relief was ever present in the movie. It started out grand but heavy, it ended grand and even heavier. It was just heavy heavy heavy. I left the theater, half dazed from all the dazzling colors, but my heart felt heavy from the burden of such enormous bloodshed and tragedy. It was definitely not the type of movie to kick off the new year in a happy go lucky way.
My feelings about this film are mixed. On the one hand, the mega production of this film, the grandiose battle scenes were awe-inspiring. The film makes me feel like a very small insignificant thing, in the face of the millions of troops that surged onscreen. It was LOTR without the CGI effects. On the other hand, the sheer grandeur of the battle scenes also serve to make the main characters smaller than life too, less important, more distant and consequently, less to be concerned with in my mind. These petulant and conniving royalties, with their incestuous affairs and tyrannical natures, caused the deaths of thousands who have no better way to explain their deaths except that they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Tragic, really, so terribly tragic.
The film was not without redeeming characters. The second son of the empress, Prince Jai, came through as the sole purist with a noble heart. Amidst the muck and dirty swamp that characterizes his royal family, he is the sole lotus flower that rises above it. I think Jay Chou brought to the character an admirable performance. He’s not an obvious choice to be cast in that role, I guess, because he lacks the noble appearance of his parents, but it doesn’t matter, because he came through in the end. I have nothing to say about the older brother, appearance wise, he’s a major turn off, character-wise, he’s even worse. I don’t know why he was cast and what purpose he served other than to be wretched and pathetic and just gross.
Zhang Yimou was one of my first favorite Chinese directors, back when I first began to watch films critically and appreciate them above and beyond the typical Steve Chow or Jackie Chan mad-dash and entertainment. His earlier films were powerful and moving or more than a little disturbing. This film, his latest, definitely is very disturbing but also very powerful, in a different way. It wasn't so much powerful in terms of its emotional impact, but more from an aesthetic standpoint, it delivers triumphantly. The use of music and sound were also very effective. At the end, I felt like I had been to an opera and I was left drained, because the visual feast served not to nourish me, but rather, it absorbed energy from me, That was the price of enjoying this film, Curse of the Golden Flower.
The opening scenes showing the multitudes of palace slaves getting ready for their day reminded me of how it was in Spirited Away, when you get a grand bird’s eye view of the spa house and what it took for all its oiled parts to kick into gear at the same time. Except in this movie, it took precision and clockwork team effort to a whole new level. Everyone did everything in synchronous motion, from brushing hair, putting on dresses and going through morning toiletries. It emphasized more than ever the dehumanization of any one person, the robotization of mankind.
Gong-li was resplendent and convincing as the miserable but still regal empress. She carries the noble burden very admirably and is able to, despite a certain distance that separates us lowly human beings from her, convey the universal themes of human emotion: jealousy, anxiety, bitterness, resignation, anger, and borderline insanity. One of my beefs with this film would be that no comic relief was ever present in the movie. It started out grand but heavy, it ended grand and even heavier. It was just heavy heavy heavy. I left the theater, half dazed from all the dazzling colors, but my heart felt heavy from the burden of such enormous bloodshed and tragedy. It was definitely not the type of movie to kick off the new year in a happy go lucky way.
My feelings about this film are mixed. On the one hand, the mega production of this film, the grandiose battle scenes were awe-inspiring. The film makes me feel like a very small insignificant thing, in the face of the millions of troops that surged onscreen. It was LOTR without the CGI effects. On the other hand, the sheer grandeur of the battle scenes also serve to make the main characters smaller than life too, less important, more distant and consequently, less to be concerned with in my mind. These petulant and conniving royalties, with their incestuous affairs and tyrannical natures, caused the deaths of thousands who have no better way to explain their deaths except that they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Tragic, really, so terribly tragic.
The film was not without redeeming characters. The second son of the empress, Prince Jai, came through as the sole purist with a noble heart. Amidst the muck and dirty swamp that characterizes his royal family, he is the sole lotus flower that rises above it. I think Jay Chou brought to the character an admirable performance. He’s not an obvious choice to be cast in that role, I guess, because he lacks the noble appearance of his parents, but it doesn’t matter, because he came through in the end. I have nothing to say about the older brother, appearance wise, he’s a major turn off, character-wise, he’s even worse. I don’t know why he was cast and what purpose he served other than to be wretched and pathetic and just gross.
Zhang Yimou was one of my first favorite Chinese directors, back when I first began to watch films critically and appreciate them above and beyond the typical Steve Chow or Jackie Chan mad-dash and entertainment. His earlier films were powerful and moving or more than a little disturbing. This film, his latest, definitely is very disturbing but also very powerful, in a different way. It wasn't so much powerful in terms of its emotional impact, but more from an aesthetic standpoint, it delivers triumphantly. The use of music and sound were also very effective. At the end, I felt like I had been to an opera and I was left drained, because the visual feast served not to nourish me, but rather, it absorbed energy from me, That was the price of enjoying this film, Curse of the Golden Flower.
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