Epic Bloodshed in Ancient China

FILM

The Emperor and the

Assassin

Directed by

Chen Kaige

starring

Zhang Fengyi

Gong Li

Li Xuejian

Sony Pictures

The opening moments of The Emperor and the Assassin are breathtaking for their bravado and finesse: Ying Zheng, the soon-to-be emperor of China, overtakes a fleeing enemy army on horseback, one soldier at a time. Leaping onto a fresher horse in mid-gallop and disposing of its hapless owner, he makes short work of the remaining riders and finally succeeds in cutting off the general at the fore, killing him with one swift stab in the chest. Shot with the camera speeding alongside the galloping horses, this first scene promises a magnificent cinematic experience, something both visually and emotionally powerful (if bloody). What follows, however, falls disappointingly short of expectations. Though a cinematographic knock-out (kudos to director of photography Zhao Fei), this epic rendering fails to lend vibrancy to the story of the first emperor of China's rise to power. All too predictably, The Emperor and the Assassin falls prey to the temptation of presenting sumptuous costumes and cast-of-thousands battle scenes at the expense of an engaging plot and well-developed characters.

The Emperor and the

Assassin

Directed by

Chen Kaige

starring

Zhang Fengyi

Gong Li

Li Xuejian

Sony Pictures

Set in 221 B.C. during the so-called Warring States period in China, the story revolves around Ying Zheng (Li Xuejian), whose grandiose ambition to unify the states into one massive, centralized entity is both truly visionary and tragically misdirected. Though (debatably) well-intentioned, Ying Zheng resorts to more and more extreme acts of violence to achieve his goals. In protest of his increasing brutality, Lady Zhao (Gong Li), Ying Zheng's childhood friend and long-time lover, announces that she is leaving him. Ying Zheng manages to convince her that the bloodshed he has incurred is only necessary in creating a lasting period of peace--until it becomes obvious that he will spare no one and nothing, not even her home-state, in his bid to be emperor. She then turns to Jing Ke (Zhang Fengyi), renowned assassin of virtuosic sword-wielding abilities, to put an end to Ying Zheng's reign of tyranny. Haunted by the ghosts of his victims but redeemed by the love that springs up between him and Lady Zhao, Jing Ke sets off for a final showdown with Ying Zheng.

Certainly, there is great potential here for a genuinely moving epic: Lady Zhao, caught between two powerful men, must choose between loyalty and justice, old love and new love; Ying Zhang and Jing Ke must decide between ambition and conscience. But though all the right ingredients are assembled, the equation somehow fails to add up. The complexity and tension inherent to the characters aren't played out to their full potential, resulting in a certain degree of dramatic sag. Without strong characterizations, the plot founders, and the focal trio is all too easily eclipsed by the bombastic military hullabaloo around them. The biggest problem is that Li Xuejian, for better or worse, gives a truly confused portrait of the emperor, alternating between unabashed cruelty and childish buffoonery. His emperor is conflicted and multifaceted, for sure --but lacking the visible development from ambitious commoner to dangerously monomaniacal ruler, he also lacks the necessary pathos to be anything more than a caricature. Zhang Fengyi fares better as the sympathetic Jing Ke, giving a much-needed boost of feeling to the last third of this more than two and a half hour saga. Indeed, as a seasoned killer who makes the conscious decision to renounce his murderous past, he shows what Ying Zheng has the potential to become: strong-willed yet benevolent, not guiltless yet not amoral.

The rest is a mess of slow-paced courtly intrigue and gory battle scenes, albeit gorgeously shot. Not even the radiant Gong Li, who too often proves the saving grace in other overly-serious cinematic efforts, is unable to rescue the titanic The Emperor and The Assassin from sinking under its own epic weight. In what should have been a stunning scene, Lady Zhao runs onto the corpse-strewn battlefield of her home-state Zhao to find the mass grave of all Zhao's children, massacred by Ying Zheng. At first incredulous, then hysterically digging up one small, blue body after another, the anguished and betrayed Lady Zhao almost gives one something to care about. But the overwhelming violence up to this point has only left the viewer numb and dry-eyed for this pivotal moment.

This is not, of course, to say that violent movies cannot be good ones. But good violent movies win over the viewer by matching the visceral intensity of head-hacking with solid emotional substance. Unlike Ying Zheng, who exacts a bloody toll of thousands and still succeeds in fulfilling his ambition, The Emperor and The Assassin exacts its toll--without, sadly, achieving similar greatness.