ROUGE (1987), dir. Stanley Kwan
A Ghost's Chance of Rekindling an Old Flame
In “Rouge,” a ghost from fifty years in the past returns to Hong Kong, searching for her lost love. No, this isn't a goofy romantic-comedy, even if the premise sounds awfully familiar. Instead, it's a highly-effective melodrama from director Stanley Kwan, as well as a star vehicle for Anita Mui, the late Cantonese pop singer. As Fleur, a beautiful courtesan who died tragically with her lover, Mui gets to sing, dress up in period costumes, and otherwise command the screen.
The story: Fleur's spirit somehow fails to be reunited in the afterlife with that of Chen (Leslie Cheung, from "The Chinese Feast" and "Happy Together"), her earthly paramour. Assuming he has been reincarnated, she patiently waits in the underworld until August 11th, 1987. Why that date? According to a diviner, whom she consulted while still alive, that is the soonest they can meet again on Earth. Fleur wants to see Chen one more time before returning to the land of the dead, where she will be reborn herself.
Of course, Hong Kong has changed a lot by the time she returns. Fleur requires a guide, and a meek ad man named Yuen (Alex Man) takes pity on her. At first, he doesn't know that she's a ghost; he dismisses her as a harmless eccentric, only to discover her true nature during the bus ride home. After that tense, appropriately creepy revelation, he still takes her back to his apartment, which he shares with his reporter girlfriend, Chor (Emily Chu).
The writers of “Rouge,” Tai An-Ping Chiu and Bik-Wa Lei, cut back-and-forth between Fleur and Chen, and Yuen and Chor, telling parallel stories. With the former couple, we witness the tale of their sad fate, which may not be as clear-cut as Fleur made it sound. Meanwhile, the other couple tries to figure out what really happened to Chen, why his spirit, after he died, was never able to find Fleur's. Relying mainly on Chor's journalistic skills, they locate several clues in places Fleur and Chen used to frequent. Ultimately, these lead to a surprising plot twist or two, which casts everything we were told in a different light. Friend turns against friend, lover against lover, and the climactic Peking opera movie set seems oddly appropriate, as the present literally comes face-to-face with the past.
But solving a fifty-year old metaphysical mystery, compelling as it ends up being, isn't the sole aim of the filmmakers. They use the two time periods, and two couples, to juxtapose love in the 30’s with the 80’s, to show how some aspects are different, while others have stayed the same.
At one point, the old-fashioned Fleur asks Yuen why he hasn't married his girlfriend. He replies that he doesn’t feel any pressure. After all, they live a staid, comfortable life already. They are even past the point of buying each other love tokens. In an earlier scene, when Yuen “surprises” Chor with a gift, it turns out to be an eminently-practical, but not exactly romantic, pair of sneakers.
By contrast, from the moment Fleur and Chen lock eyes, everything about their love affair vibrates with urgency. He publicly declares his affection for her after just one encounter, and showers her with gifts large and small (such as the ornamental make-up box from which the movie’s title derives). After Chen's wealthy family disowns him for refusing to call off the relationship, they continue their desperate clinging. Cinematographer Bill Wong accentuates their passion by infusing the 30's time period with lots of reds and golds. Meanwhile, he adopts conservative colors for the 80's, thus creating two very distinct moods.
But this does not mean relationships in previous times were better, even if the people involved may have shown more passion. Clearly, Fleur is more desperate about her man than Chor about her own. But a woman's role in 1980's Hong Kong has also changed dramatically since the 30's. When Fleur was a child, her parents abandoned her; she became a professional courtesan at the tender age of 14. She knows she must marry in order to become a "respectable" woman. If she does not accomplish this, especially while at the height of her beauty and popularity, she might be stuck at the brothel forever. A modern career woman like Chor never has to worry about suffering this kind of fate.
Perhaps, because love can be viewed more as a luxury than a necessity, Chor’s relationship with Yuen isn't nearly as urgent. Even so, both couples still have aspects in common, such as the need for physical intimacy. Indeed, during one scene, Fleur peeks in on Yuen and Chor while they make love. As she watches, the footage of one couple intermingles with images of the other. They become a montage of affection.
On the one hand, this sequence functions as psychological filmmaking, merging point-of-view shots with memory. But at the same time, it argues that love in the 80’s only seems staid and comfortable, that underneath, the passion that comes from feeling close to someone remains alive and kicking.
Overall rating: **** (out of ****)
In “Rouge,” a ghost from fifty years in the past returns to Hong Kong, searching for her lost love. No, this isn't a goofy romantic-comedy, even if the premise sounds awfully familiar. Instead, it's a highly-effective melodrama from director Stanley Kwan, as well as a star vehicle for Anita Mui, the late Cantonese pop singer. As Fleur, a beautiful courtesan who died tragically with her lover, Mui gets to sing, dress up in period costumes, and otherwise command the screen.
The story: Fleur's spirit somehow fails to be reunited in the afterlife with that of Chen (Leslie Cheung, from "The Chinese Feast" and "Happy Together"), her earthly paramour. Assuming he has been reincarnated, she patiently waits in the underworld until August 11th, 1987. Why that date? According to a diviner, whom she consulted while still alive, that is the soonest they can meet again on Earth. Fleur wants to see Chen one more time before returning to the land of the dead, where she will be reborn herself.
Of course, Hong Kong has changed a lot by the time she returns. Fleur requires a guide, and a meek ad man named Yuen (Alex Man) takes pity on her. At first, he doesn't know that she's a ghost; he dismisses her as a harmless eccentric, only to discover her true nature during the bus ride home. After that tense, appropriately creepy revelation, he still takes her back to his apartment, which he shares with his reporter girlfriend, Chor (Emily Chu).
The writers of “Rouge,” Tai An-Ping Chiu and Bik-Wa Lei, cut back-and-forth between Fleur and Chen, and Yuen and Chor, telling parallel stories. With the former couple, we witness the tale of their sad fate, which may not be as clear-cut as Fleur made it sound. Meanwhile, the other couple tries to figure out what really happened to Chen, why his spirit, after he died, was never able to find Fleur's. Relying mainly on Chor's journalistic skills, they locate several clues in places Fleur and Chen used to frequent. Ultimately, these lead to a surprising plot twist or two, which casts everything we were told in a different light. Friend turns against friend, lover against lover, and the climactic Peking opera movie set seems oddly appropriate, as the present literally comes face-to-face with the past.
But solving a fifty-year old metaphysical mystery, compelling as it ends up being, isn't the sole aim of the filmmakers. They use the two time periods, and two couples, to juxtapose love in the 30’s with the 80’s, to show how some aspects are different, while others have stayed the same.
At one point, the old-fashioned Fleur asks Yuen why he hasn't married his girlfriend. He replies that he doesn’t feel any pressure. After all, they live a staid, comfortable life already. They are even past the point of buying each other love tokens. In an earlier scene, when Yuen “surprises” Chor with a gift, it turns out to be an eminently-practical, but not exactly romantic, pair of sneakers.
By contrast, from the moment Fleur and Chen lock eyes, everything about their love affair vibrates with urgency. He publicly declares his affection for her after just one encounter, and showers her with gifts large and small (such as the ornamental make-up box from which the movie’s title derives). After Chen's wealthy family disowns him for refusing to call off the relationship, they continue their desperate clinging. Cinematographer Bill Wong accentuates their passion by infusing the 30's time period with lots of reds and golds. Meanwhile, he adopts conservative colors for the 80's, thus creating two very distinct moods.
But this does not mean relationships in previous times were better, even if the people involved may have shown more passion. Clearly, Fleur is more desperate about her man than Chor about her own. But a woman's role in 1980's Hong Kong has also changed dramatically since the 30's. When Fleur was a child, her parents abandoned her; she became a professional courtesan at the tender age of 14. She knows she must marry in order to become a "respectable" woman. If she does not accomplish this, especially while at the height of her beauty and popularity, she might be stuck at the brothel forever. A modern career woman like Chor never has to worry about suffering this kind of fate.
Perhaps, because love can be viewed more as a luxury than a necessity, Chor’s relationship with Yuen isn't nearly as urgent. Even so, both couples still have aspects in common, such as the need for physical intimacy. Indeed, during one scene, Fleur peeks in on Yuen and Chor while they make love. As she watches, the footage of one couple intermingles with images of the other. They become a montage of affection.
On the one hand, this sequence functions as psychological filmmaking, merging point-of-view shots with memory. But at the same time, it argues that love in the 80’s only seems staid and comfortable, that underneath, the passion that comes from feeling close to someone remains alive and kicking.
Overall rating: **** (out of ****)
Labels: ****, 1987, Anita Mui, Leslie Cheung, Stanley Kwan
posted by Phil | 5:10 AM
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