Hall of Preserving Harmony

Rating: Null/10 (7 July 2013)

I saw this because I saw another Chinese film the other day, quasi- historical and lush, and wanted to see what a European would bring.
You can see what attracted Bertollucci to this project. Here's a film about an emperor, ruler of a quarter of the world in his time, who died a common gardener. It offers unlimited possibilities for visual splendour, of course—the Forbidden City above all, closed off for centuries but here open to our gaze. And it is a history of millions, it seems in the West we can't comprehend China unless it has swathes of conflict.
The main narrative device is so good, it boggles the mind that more wasn't accomplished—not just history but a chronicle recalled from many pairs of eyes as our film, Citizen Kane- style. A deathdream, a memory triggered by a newsreel, a contrasting testimony perhaps offered to please. A fancy Scottsman's memoirs, perhaps embellished? Perhaps read by the prison warden to confirm preconceived guilt?
A confession before a tribunal, but one we could trust in any way?
A truly imaginative mind would've done so much more with the triggers and stirring of untrusted narration. He would've done more with the second consort's disappearance and simultaneous appearance of the spy woman, introducing opium and deluded ego. More, in general, with the shifts inside the memory from gilded childhood where sight begins to dim to the self-delusion of power to loss and humility. To its credit, it's more interesting than I thought it would be after the first hour.
But as in Kundun we get for the most part an operatic sort of beauty. Oh there are a few unforgettable images in there, most to do with fabrics and colors. But the eye of the camera is much like the emperor, a dull observer of fancy things. There's no real difference between different voices telling the story, the many concealed desires and quashed dreams that may be pushing through the fabrics, conscious or not, changing what we see as we see it. There's just so much to play with here, it's a shame we end up with merely preserved harmony. But that's also how the Chinese would have it.
I can only imagine what transcendent dragons of self Malick and his floating eye would have seen in the flowing silks.