The Story of Qiu Ju (1992)

This is a small thing, but ripe, all about learning to naturally go out among life.

This is is first in the story. A wife demands to know why her husband was kicked "where it hurts" by a local official. Why did he do it? She ventures out in the village, then down in the city in search of answers. The tip of the thread that humorously guides us through different faces so that altogether we get a snapshot of Chinese life.

A constable arbites and gives his verdict, which seems perfectly reasonable, the accused will cover medical expenses and both parties are made aware that they were both wrong. But the wife is not pleased, she wants a more significant justice, and will go through the state apparatus looking for it.

This has led some viewers to think that we're meant to be seeing an individual being caught in the gears of an absurd and uncaring bureaucracy; that seems to be a handy interpretation we have in the West ever since Kafka. But that's not the point being made here.

Party officials, whenever encountered, are always benevolent and trying to be fair, quietly exasperated by the antics of the people in their charge. A higherup is kind enough to drive her back to the hotel on his car, another one stoically returns someone's stray animal. You can see why this among Zhang's early work was not banned over there.

But every new verdict from higher offices remains the same however, which is to say, the world is just so, maybe not ideal. Why make a fuss about why we do things, why stand so rigidly? There's no deeper reason sometimes and we're better off mending ourselves by moving forward, going along unconstrained by "right" and "wrong". This is often hard to translate to someone in the West because we have made ourselves stupid by arguing from principle instead of seeing what the specific thing in front of us calls for now.

And the notion of contrived uncontrivance extends in everything else. Zhang is aiming for a snapshot of life whereby we just mingle with things, what they used to call "neorealism" back in the day. The view it ventures to offer will be precious, a heartland generally closed to us.

More pertinently for me, it evokes a view of life, a warmth and sense of community I like. Lovingly obstinate in trying to fathom its tempests, pettiness without malice, quiet perseverance in simple things. Zhang lets all of this envelop in a natural way, as impulse that climbs up through the soles of the feet.

Gong Li is perfectly in tune with this, sublime in erasing any trace of an actor's face behind the shawl, making herself like a stump of uncontrived urges. We're meant to see that though a kind person, she's also a little dull in her fixation to an apology. And look how naturally she comes forth from her body, then watch her as the nervous empress in Golden Flower. What a range in which she moves freely.

Fmovies: A pregnant peasant woman seeks redress from the Chinese bureaucracy after the village chief kicks her husband in the groin in this comedy of justice. As she is frustrated by each level of the hierarchy and travels farther and farther away from the countryside the viewer is also provided with a look at the changing Chinese society through the verite camera used in most scenes.

Roger Ebert said "along the way we absorb more information about the lives of ordinary people in everyday China than in any other film I've seen." And really, this is the greatness of the film. The mixture of images of Mao with Western advertising and swimsuits. This is a time trapped partially in the 1950s, but also striving towards the 1990s. Whether the cultural influence is a good thing or not, it makes for a fascinating time capsule.

Probably my least favorite Zhang Yimou film. Oh, it's not bad. It's pretty good, to tell the truth. But it's the kind of film where you get the point right away and you have to spend 100 minutes watching the filmmaker stumble toward the foregone conclusion. Gong Li plays the title character, a hugely pregnant woman. Her husband just got kicked in the nuts by their farming community's chief, and Qiu Ju wants an apology. Unfortunately, none of the officials she takes the case to can actually force the guy to apologize. They can make him dole out monetary compensation, but that's not good enough for Qiu Ju. Every time she doesn't get the results she wants, she attempts to go to a higher level of authority. It's an amusing situation, but the film kind of plods along slowly. I won't demand Zhang Yimou stick to his wonderful visual talents, but it is disappointing how mundane this film looks and feels. The worst crime perhaps is that Gong Li isn't given much acting to do. I love the final look on her face when the film ends, but I think pretty much anyone could have played Qiu Ju. I know, it sounds like I hated it, but I didn't. I just wasn't overly impressed with it, despite its obvious qualities.

The Story of Qiu Ju fmovies. This movie, "The Story of Qiu Ju", follows the actions of the main character Qiu Ju, a determined rural resident who seeks out authorities after her husband is kicked by her village chief.

One thing I liked about the movie was the plot - it was fresh and original. In addition, the ending had a nice little twist to it (although it was somewhat obvious what was going to happen).

I also found the movie to be very cleverly written, as they implemented comedy in a very subtle manner. One example is when Qiu Ju and her sister-in-law were in the city and they had just bought "city clothes". They looked very entertaining in those clothes, but also that scene was not made purely for comedy, because the writers were also trying to show that they were very country-side oriented and had probably never been to the city and they were trying to show how their lack of experience through their incorrect wearing of clothing.

When her husband insults a neighbor and is nearly 'emasculated', a peasant woman goes to great lengths to secure justice. Many people in the West may not understand why this woman is so determined to right such a 'minor' wrong. In Chinese culture, an assault on another man's "honor" is not viewed as a 'minor' thing; having children is very important and carries a greater social significance than it does in the West. It is expected of every man, and having a son, especially, to work in the fields for the good of the family and carry on the family name, has been worshipped as a Confucian ethic for centuries. China is still very much a paternalistic society (despite Communist reform),and the 'one child' policy has only reinforced the old Chinese adage that "if you bear a girl,bear a beautiful one, if you bear a son, bear an intelligent one." So understandably,from the viewpoint of Qiu Ju,not only does her husband suffer but her entire family name and honor suffers too, when the man is attacked in a 'sacred place', his gonads. The village chief, the fellow who delivered the disabling kick,has also been dishonored by the husband's insult about "having hens" and not boys. By kicking the offending man in the balls, the village chief wanted to save his face, hence the stalemate. But for Qiu Ju, and certainly in Chinese eyes, the greater wrong is the assault on her husband's reproductive organs. A delightful movie, so well acted with quite a few funny moments surrounding a serious issue. Zhang Yimou is one fine director.

Gong Li, China's top actress in the 1990s (deservedly so), plays a naive but determined innocent, a young married woman from a remote farming village who wants nothing more than to have the village elder apologize to her husband for kicking him in a fit of anger. The bureaucratic nightmare she endures, making repeated trips to "the city" to seek justice, exposes her to a system she didn't know existed, a completely convoluted and impregnable one that operates solely by standards and practices, totally devoid of compassion or an understanding of the people it governs.

This is a small film, an earlier work by master Chinese filmmaker Zhang Yimou (To Live, Ju Dou), but what really makes it work is Gong as Qiu Ju. Every effect of this effectless society registers on her face, mostly in the form of surprise at the promises unkept and disappointment at the lack of concern by officials who are supposed to be responsible to "the people." She makes us care deeply about Qiu Ju, even though we may not be able to identify directly with her circumstances, but even beyond this, she makes these provincial circumstances universal by being the everywoman, someone who just wants the people in charge to do what's right without it necessarily having any adverse impact on themselves. Gong's ability to inject political situations with sincere human emotion has made her an ideal representative of the message running through all of Zhang's films (she has appeared in several of them), but beyond this, she simply is a great actress who should eventually become as world renowned as Joan Chen once was.

What makes this film even more prescient is how well many Americans may identify with the nightmares presented by a government hierarchy overstuffed with "I just work here" bureaucrats. And the ending is infused with a poignant irony that will hit home with anyone who has, in their own lives, found that time heals all wounds.