This Emperor Does Have Clothes

Rating: 9/10 (21 July 2017)

The poster of "The Last Emperor" shows a chubby little boy in ceremonial dress with the majestic palace of the Forbidden City in the background. While richly evocative, it will probably give the wrong idea to the audiences expecting 'another' costume historical drama, or one of these sweeping Oscar-swiping epics. Not to mention that the last emperor of China doesn't play in the same league than Gandhi or Lawrence of Arabia, as far as historical magnitudes go.
But it's precisely because the last emperor of China wasn't exactly an icon or a major history player that his story works on a narrative level, he's passive enough to be a foil to the more turbulent history of China, but strong-willed enough to drive the story within his own 'limited' power. Yes, 'limited' is the word and what an irony for the ruler of the largest and most secular Empire in the world to have spent his whole life powerless. Indeed, summoned to the Forbidden City as a toddler, his childhood coincided with the Republican era where his power never exceeded the limits of the Forbidden City which didn't prevent him from an imperial upbringing with its gallery of bowing servants and playing eunuchs.
These scenes look like your typical history epic material except that Bertolucci makes the right choice by telling the story through flashbacks. It actually opens with the arrest of Pu Yi (John Lone) after World War II and his transfer to Funchu Prison as a War criminal and traitor. One would think that death is the penalty awaiting him, he even tries to precedes his executioners by cutting his wrists, and feeling a washbasin with such a symbolic red, but People's Republic of China has other plans for the last living remain of the old order. Pu Yi is coerced into confessing his crimes, and his collaboration with the Japanese regime whose actions against Chinse people have been overshadowed by the Holocaust.
Pu Yi's motives become all murky yet captivating from a narrative level: was he driven by ambition? Was he holding a grudge against the Republic that dethroned him? Bertolucci doesn't take a specific side apart from showing a man who's been out of touch all his life, and one-step behind the march of history. There's a crucial moment during his reign over the puppet state of Manchouko, where he makes a speech meant to assert the independence of the country, the Japanese diplomats leave the place, followed by the Chinese staff. Pu Yi realizes that a ruler of men, he'll never be. This scene occurs at the two thirds of the film but it adds a new tragicomic dimension to all the protocol and ceremonials from the first act.
Indeed, what makes "The Last Emperor" such a compelling story is that the film never seems to 'endorse' what it shows, it clearly has a stance over the imperial over-zealous decorum, and as viewers, we can only empathize with Pu-Yi when he transitions from an obedient kid to the rebellious young man who goes as far as cutting his plait. The character of Johnston, Peter O'Toole as the Scottish mentor, is crucial, because he's Pu Yi's window to the Occidental world, literally opening his eyes since he's the one forcing the imperial establishment to buy the Emperor glasses. He also teaches him how to ride a bicycle, which leads to another crucial scene where Pu-Yi learns he can't even leave the City, another eloquent irony.
The fascination toward the Occidental world is obvious and Pu Yi, as well as his new wife Wanrong (Joan Chen) grow progressively Occidentalised until they finally get fully rid of their traditional burden after the Republican coup, and their exile from the City. Later, Pu Yi is shown singing Bing Crosby during a reception, which establishes the long road from that 'golden child' of the start. The film shows natural born outcasts, caught in the turmoil of a time that made their collaboration with Japan tragic because it was inevitable. Pu Yi's concubine becomes a Japanese spy and is quite vocal about it, Wanrong becomes an opium addict, and Pu Yi a traitor to his own country.
But the film takes an interesting angle toward the end, it doesn't make the Chinese regime more evil than we'd expect, although it doesn't sugarcoat the devastating effects of the Chinese revolution. One of the camp commandants encourages Pu Yi to confess his crimes, as the step for redemption is the awareness of guilt, but for the real crimes. Pu Yi collaborated with the Japanese but he could never have known about the biological crimes. His re-education reaches a new level when the commandant realizes he can't even tie his shoe or do anything alone, he's put in a cell where he must live in community, and learn the hardship of being one-among-the- others, and obeying certain rules, like to pee in silent on the side of a bucket.
Finally, we see him at the twilight of his life, as a free, serene gardener who have embraced the spirit of new China, the film comes full circle with his life when he meets a child in the Forbidden city and tells him he used to be the Emperor, and gives him a pet cricket he received when he first sat on the throne. It's quite fascinating that he was the exception to the rule, the one person who could have been positively affected by the Chinese revolution, since he spent all his life like a living anachronism and was the perfect candidate for a re-education, and a life full of such ironies was a perfect candidate for a biopic.
And behind its Best Picture prestige facade, "The Last Emperor" is a powerful character study of a man, whose transition echoed his own country, because like China, the Last Emperor had to make his own (r)evolution.