The following notes on Chen Kaige's Farewell, My Concubine were written by Dr. David Vanden Bossche, alumnus of the Department of Communications Arts at UW-Madison. A new, restored DCP of the international version of Farewell, My Concubine will screen at the Cinematheque on Saturday, September 14 at 7 p.m. in our regular venue, 4070 Vilas, 821 University Ave. Admission is free!

By David Vanden Bossche

The winner of the Palme d'Or at 1993’s Cannes Film Festival (an honor it shared with Jane Campion’s The Piano), Farewell, My Concubine is a nearly three-hour epic spanning half a century of Chinese history, but at the same time an intimate story of two men who spend their lives performing at the famous Beijing Opera. This sumptuous visual feast is also the magnum opus in the oeuvre of Chen Kaige, whose own life shows striking parallels with some of the movie’s narrative. Sixteen during the cultural revolution, the young director turned his father, also a film director, over to the revolutionaries. Though father and son later reconciled (the senior Chen oversaw the art direction for Concubine), the guilt of this betrayal would haunt Chen for decades, influencing his honest portrayal of the cultural revolution in the film.

The film’s release history has also been a struggle between competing pressures, namely the Chinese government and its distributor, Miramax. Though the film was banned in China immediately after its release, its win at Cannes spurred international outcry for the Chinese government to back down and let the film back into theaters. Eventually the authorities agreed to release the film after 14 minutes had been cut, including scenes dealing with the Cultural Revolution and homosexuality, with the ending revised to match censorial demands. Miramax’s Harvey Weinstein then picked up Concubine for U.S. and U.K. distribution and also demanded cuts to the film: removing twenty minutes that filled out portions of the relationship between the two men. This is the version that has been widely available, though it was panned by the Cannes jury that awarded the original prize. Eventually, Miramax released the original cut of the film on DVD, and in 2023 Film Movement released a 4K restoration of the uncut original: the first time it’s been seen in U.S. theaters and the version screening at the Cinematheque.

Politics notwithstanding, this is also undeniably Chen’s most accomplished work stylistically; every shot and camera movement in Farewell, My Concubine reflects the refinement and precise execution of the operatic rituals and tableaus that occupy such a central place in the movie’s narrative. The story opens in the 1920s, depicting the brutal training required for little boys to become actors, focusing on Duan and Cheng, both of whom become entwined with their theatrical roles in the film’s titular opera. Duan always incarnates a mythic ruler and Cheng plays - as was the tradition - the female concubine who ends the opera committing suicide in a gesture of love. We witness their long careers throughout several decades, watching the actors rise from poverty to stardom. Fame nevertheless requires them to navigate the sometimes rapidly changing political landscape of China, bringing with it powerful new allies and benefactors of the theatre but also creating new adversaries and often the need to begrudgingly seek out the favors of powerful politicians and military rulers. Undergirding all this is the complicated relationship between the lifelong friends and scene partners (although they often find themselves on opposing sides), a relationship that is tainted by the harsh realities of life but also enriched by the unbreakable bond that comes from incarnating two famous lovers on stage.

Among the story’s most controversial elements in 1993 for Chen Kaige’s Chinese audience and censors were the clear homoerotic implications of the two men’s relationship and the ways their roles begin to blur the lines between performance and real life. The film’s homoerotic undertones are further complicated and reinforced by the presence of a woman who drives a wedge between the two men, a complicated, yet subtle love triangle developing. Gong Li plays the prostitute-turned-muse, Juxian, who becomes a pivotal element in both the strained relationship between the two actors and the negotiation of historic political turmoil. While he has often been seen as a politically critical voice whose work was regularly censored by national authorities, in more recent years and in the leadup to the 2000 Beijing Olympics, the Chinese government softened their approach to the director. Similarly, Chen Kaige has agreed in recent decades to direct semi-propaganda films commissioned for the Chinese government andThe Battle at Lake Changjin (2021) became China’s highest-grossing film of all time.

Somehow balancing an expansive view of Chinese history with an intimate character study, Farewell, My Concubine manages to not only work as an intense melodrama, but also as a dark political tale on the messy process of regime change. The movie boldly suggests that the politically empowered, whether on the left or right of the political spectrum, will ultimately turn against art and intellectualism, a message as relevant for the cultural revolution as it is still decades later. However, the film’s ultimate message is of uplift, suggesting that art and expression outlast any political upheaval, no matter how hard those in power attempt to destroy or limit its power to provoke, to reflect, or to stir the human spirit.