Corruption of Power
FILM: The Emperor and the Assassin
DIRECTOR: Chen Kaige
STARRING: Li Xuejian, Gong Li
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JING KE (ZHANG FENGYI) TRIES TO DEPOSE YING ZHENG (LI XUEJIAN) IN THE EPIC
THE EMPEROR AND THE ASSASSIN.
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Chen Kaige's epic The Emperor and the Assassin is beautifully
photographed and thematically rich, but will seem (perhaps because of the
cultural divide and difficulties associated with translating dialogue for
subtitles) overly long, slow and sometimes murky to some viewers. It is the
story of Yin Zheng (Li Xuejian), a third-century B.C. king of the Chinese
province of Qin with the ambition to unite all of China's seven provinces under
one rule. His stated ambition is to end the 550 years of continuing warfare
among the seven provincial kingdoms. Only then can peace and prosperity
flourish. Yin's goals are so noble that he becomes a hero to his longtime
concubine Lady Zhao (the always luminous Gong Li), and she agrees to help him
devise a plot by which he can capture the land of Yan from its ruling Prince
Dan (Sun Zhou).
The various machinations toward dominating an entire people are
artfully complicated, though not always so easy to follow and grasp. We don't
understand, for instance, how the Marquis Changxin (Wang Zhiwen) could have
lived in the Qin place and twice impregnated Yin's mother without Yin's
learning of it. Elsewhere, as we first meet the charismatic Jing Ke (Zhang
Fengyi), who will strive to assassinate Yin, we don't know why he is assigned
to murder the entire family of a swordmaker or why the subsequent suicide of a
blind, teenage survivor succeeds in finally turning his heart against killing.
As the film reaches its climax, we really don't understand why Yin's guards
fail to rally to his defense. Yes, he has become a monster, but both Hitler's
and Stalin's minions stood by them until the end.
At its best, though, The Emperor and the Assassin makes
clear that benevolent government never can be erected on a sea of blood. Most
of us, moreover, will find all too true Chen's blanket condemnation of those
who would make war in the name of allegiance to place. The king of Zhao, who
schools his province's children to defy surrender by practicing genocide by
suicide, is every bit as detestable as Yin. Prince Dan, meanwhile, is just as
ruthless. Furthermore, the complications surrounding the true parentage of Yin
adroitly drive home Chen's critical premise that our shared bloodlines, rather
than our shed blood, ought to be the force of our union.
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