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Editorial Reviews
Amazon.com
Not even close to his best work, Chinese filmmaker Zhang Yimou--far from a favorite of Chinese authorities, and frequently harassed and stymied in his career--creates an impressive-looking period piece in this gangland story set in the 1930s. Gong Li (Raise the Red Lantern) gives a colorful performance as a nightclub diva who is the mistress of a mob boss. Told from the point of view of a boy (Wang Xiaoxiao) sent by the gangster to wait on the arrogant singer, the story follows these characters over several days as they flee Shanghai to hide out in the countryside. A supreme stylist, Zhang in his best work (Ju Dou, The Story of Qui Ju) is not dependent on conventional story structures or expensive sets. But Shanghai Triad leans heavily on both, and while it is an interesting and enjoyable film--and not without subtle allusions to the political climate and culture in modern China--it is finally an unsatisfying experience. The saving graces are the performances, most of all that of the masterful, chameleonlike Gong Li. --Tom Keogh
From The New Yorker
A real disappointment from the Chinese director Zhang Yimou. After the startling, primary-color shocks of his early movies and the pecking, inquisitive roughness of such later works as "The Story of Qiu Ju," he has lapsed into a grand style of stultifying beauty-a parody of the exotic. When a shot rings out in a dusty loft and frightened pigeons flap across the haze, you feel as if you're watching a Ridley Scott movie. Zhang's idea of sophistication is, in fact, far less mature than his attempts at low naturalism. The plot involves a group of nineteen-thirties Shanghai mobsters who wrestle for power and, especially, for possession of the famous singing hooker, Xiao Jinbao. Played by Gong Li, Zhang's unerring muse, she livens up a floor show, but she can't rescue the movie. There are ravishing moments, of course, and the sequences on "an island nobody knows" have a wonderfully haunted, lunar air; but to Western audiences hoodlum godfathers in big suits are old hat. The glummest element is the young servant boy (Wang Xiaoxiao) who acts as our dramatic peephole on the action. If he can't be excited by the lushness and slaughter around him, what hope is there for the rest of us? In Mandarin. -Anthony Lane
Copyright © 2006 The New Yorker
Not even close to his best work, Chinese filmmaker Zhang Yimou--far from a favorite of Chinese authorities, and frequently harassed and stymied in his career--creates an impressive-looking period piece in this gangland story set in the 1930s. Gong Li (Raise the Red Lantern) gives a colorful performance as a nightclub diva who is the mistress of a mob boss. Told from the point of view of a boy (Wang Xiaoxiao) sent by the gangster to wait on the arrogant singer, the story follows these characters over several days as they flee Shanghai to hide out in the countryside. A supreme stylist, Zhang in his best work (Ju Dou, The Story of Qui Ju) is not dependent on conventional story structures or expensive sets. But Shanghai Triad leans heavily on both, and while it is an interesting and enjoyable film--and not without subtle allusions to the political climate and culture in modern China--it is finally an unsatisfying experience. The saving graces are the performances, most of all that of the masterful, chameleonlike Gong Li. --Tom Keogh
From The New Yorker
A real disappointment from the Chinese director Zhang Yimou. After the startling, primary-color shocks of his early movies and the pecking, inquisitive roughness of such later works as "The Story of Qiu Ju," he has lapsed into a grand style of stultifying beauty-a parody of the exotic. When a shot rings out in a dusty loft and frightened pigeons flap across the haze, you feel as if you're watching a Ridley Scott movie. Zhang's idea of sophistication is, in fact, far less mature than his attempts at low naturalism. The plot involves a group of nineteen-thirties Shanghai mobsters who wrestle for power and, especially, for possession of the famous singing hooker, Xiao Jinbao. Played by Gong Li, Zhang's unerring muse, she livens up a floor show, but she can't rescue the movie. There are ravishing moments, of course, and the sequences on "an island nobody knows" have a wonderfully haunted, lunar air; but to Western audiences hoodlum godfathers in big suits are old hat. The glummest element is the young servant boy (Wang Xiaoxiao) who acts as our dramatic peephole on the action. If he can't be excited by the lushness and slaughter around him, what hope is there for the rest of us? In Mandarin. -Anthony Lane
Copyright © 2006 The New Yorker
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