Qiu Ju da guan si

Really enjoyed this one. Qiu Ju is the wife of a man who has been kicked by a neighbor, his village chief. She presses for an apology, largely (if subtitles do it justice) because, even though his chest is what hurts longer, he's been kicked in the "privates" and she wants more than one child. She takes her quest for the apology up the chain of officialdom.

I couldn't get enough of the scenery - houses, city, carts, clothes, painted paper banners, dried peppers and corn - and the faces of people. As other viewers noted positively, the people in it didn't seem to be actors but real people, caught up in daily affairs and catching us up, too. The nearby village is somewhat familiar to her, but her trip to the city may have been her first. Watching her trying to find her way around, haggling for fair rates and help from a produce buyer, a bike-cart driver, a letter writer, a hotelier, and a lawyer was a lot of fun. Her trips seemed like a great introduction to the culture.

One of the things I loved was how the families and neighbors kept having complex interactions with each other throughout the ordeal. And the social roles in this were interesting: Farm/village chief to farmer, sister to sister, daughter-in-law to her in-laws, Party officials to their hierarchy and to citizens, country to city, women's role in general (as in what sex babies are preferred) and the strong stance of a specific woman like Qiu Ju, who seemed to be empowered as much as frustrated by the system and by her family and neighbors.

I read reviews of this as a negative comment on bureaucracy. If so, it showed a remarkably humane one. Flaws were on display but the overall tone was of acceptance.

The sudden ending left me feeling for the main characters. I seemed to see a judgment in it, but wasn't sure what that judgment was. I wanted to know how the story was interpreted in China, so I came to IMDB to at least see how others took it.

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 movie is a comedy, and a comedy only. Should the content go a bit deeper, it will surely be banned. In the communist system (under which I was raised), the "face" (reputation), not the truth, is supremely important. If the ruling government (or person) is portrayed by a story in any unfavorable light, the movie will simply not meet any audience except the censor review board.

In this movie, only a village cadre is selected as the bad guy, who kicked someone's private part. Then Qiu Ju, the victim's wife, went on a pilgrimage to seek justice for her husband. What if this bad guy is the mayor of a major City or higher? In that case, Qiu Ju may very likely get murdered and disappear into thin air. One person's life in China is not viewed precious like in the West. Power-play removes anyone in the way: even LIU Shao-qi, the 2nd-man in power before the Cultural Revolution of 1966, was gotten rid of because he endangered Mao's position (like to see a movie on that story, but it's guaranteed banned material in China).

Qiu Ju is admirable because she is earnest and persistent. Getting to one level without seeing justice done, she moves on. For the majority of the people in China, they would have given up. If this spirit gets into everybody in China, we will see a revolution. The student's movement in Beijing (1989) was one of such, and the result: blood shedding. Whole country learned from the incident to shut up. Where is Qiu Ju's persistence then? When will the freedom of speech (like what we enjoy at this forum) be granted in China? When will the Internet be truly open to the average Qiu Ju in China?

So to get this movie approved and circulated, the bad guy in this movie got what he deserved: put in prison, though Qiu Ju only demanded an apology from the Village-head. She would hate to find the village-head tortured in prison (Qiu Ju may not know it, but oh yes, there is severe torture in China's prisons all over the country) or even sent to labor camp where one would wither away. The truth behind this movie is: China's bureaucrats never listen to people's voice. And why would they? They are appointed at high levels, not elected. If you cannot have free speech publicly, how can you do anything according to conscience publicly?

Enjoy Qiu Ju's story and its colorful and rich portrayal of life in China, but don't follow her spirit if you are in China: you could get... (oh… help... help me... someone is pulling my plug... !!!)

This is a story about saving face and winning face, and what can happen if you carry things too far. Gong Li stars as Qiu Ju, a peasant woman with child whose husband is kicked in the groin by the local chief. She wants an apology. The chief of course will not apologize since he would then lose face. Both are stubborn and obstinate. Proud and determined, Qiu Ju steers her way through the bureaucracy from the village to the district to the city; but the thing she desires, an apology from the chief, eludes her. He cannot apologize because he has only sired daughters. He has license (he believes in his heart) because he was insulted by her husband who said he raised "only hens."

The Chinese locales, from village roads to big city avenues are presented with stunning clarity so that the color and the sense of life is vivid and compelling. Director Zhang Yimou. forces us to see. From the opening shot of the mass of people in the city walking toward us (out of which emerges Qiu Ju) to the feast celebrating the child's first month of life near the end, we feel the humanity of the great mass of the Chinese people.

In a sense this is a gentle satire of the bureaucratic state that modern China has become. But Zhang Yimou emphasizes the bounty of China and not its poverty. There is a sense of abundance with the corn drying in the eaves, the sheets of dough being cut into noodles, the fat cows on the roads and the bright red chili drying in the sun. There is snow on the ground and the roads are unpaved, but there is an idyllic feeling of warmth emanating from the people. One gets the idea that fairness and tolerance will prevail.

In another sense, this is a parable about the price of things and how that differs from what is really of value. So often is price mentioned in the movie that I can tell you that a yuan at the time of the movie was worth about a dollar in its buying power. (Four and a half yuan for a "pound" of chili; five yuan as a fair price for a short cab ride; twenty yuan for a legal letter.) Getting justice in the strict sense is what Qiu Ju demands. Her affable husband would settle for a lot less. He is the wiser of the two. Notice how Qiu Ju is acutely sensitive to price. She bargains well and avoids most of the rip offs of the big city. But what is the value of being a member of the community? This is a lesson she needs to learn, and, as the movie ends, she does.

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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.