HERO

1. HERO Midway through the composition of this essay, I came across Jenny Kwok’s well-researched writings on the genesis and phenomenon of Zhang Yimou’s Hero (2004). In particular, her insight into the Chinese folkloric “wu xia” or chivalrous-swordsman fiction presents a fertile angle for criticism of this genre within the poetic (as opposed to sensationalistic) aspect of Hero’s martial arts choreography, framing and editing. Often, Zhang favors close-ups or a series of closer shots of the physical action instead of wide angles –used to show off physics-defying acrobatic firsts– because the martial arts function to a greater degree as metaphors. Nonetheless, an examination of this particular genre is beyond the scope of my essay, so Kwok’s analysis of Hero from the “wu xia” angle will more than suffice for now. This essay also forgoes comments on the all-star cast and the Hong Kong actors’ infrequent but detectable slips in their Mandarin accent. Another rain check goes to a critique of the imperfect CG special effects displayed in the Zhao-siege long shots, as compared to say a costlier Ridley Scott Hollywood epic. Furthermore, due to the dualist nature of the filmmakers’ intentions –of a blockbuster for the world and a culture-conscious film– Hero’s technical merit, both in its narrative structure and metaphorical showmanship, elevates it to a contemporary masterpiece, not a timeless work of art. Observations of this dualism is again credited to Jenny Kwok’s writings from her paper “Hero: China’s response to Hollywood globalization.”

2. Jenny Kwok declares, “Hero is a martial arts poem painted in color” (Kwok). Indeed, the Technicolor-proficient Zhang creates his lyrical text by using color expressively; saturated colors, particularly reds as seen in Ju Dou (1990), are often a basic component of his mise en scène. With Australian cinematographer Christopher Doyle and the use of digital special effects, Zhang structures the distinct episodes from the screenplay, which evolves from unreliable to reliable narration, using discrete color schemes. A brightly illustrated New York Times online article by Robert Mackey inaccurately

3. characterized the film’s structure as “one story by different perceptions,” probably with Kurosawa’s Rashomon (1950) in mind, but he did identify the colors that shape the major segments: Red, Blue, White and Green. [3] Red suggests deception and compulsion. Blue, rationalization and intellect. White, purity. Green, enlightenment and wisdom. Whatever combination of flavours the audience picks up on, including other ones like black & yellow, the filmmakers’ intention remains constant: contrast. The colors in Hero are primarily a construct to better storytelling and “not symbolic” (Mackey) as Zhang & Doyle rightly insisted.

4. Another distinctive cinematic component of Hero is its use of theatrical sound. Tan Dun’s evocative strings and forceful drums may be integral to the film’s tone, but the operatic vocals heard in the martial arts action sequences capture the poetry of our deeply conflicted characters. Recalling Ge You’s shadow-opera vocal performance in To Live (1994) –a Dr Zhivago-like epic made by the pre-blockbuster Zhang Yimou– a similar type of “expressive singing” overlays the scenes where Nameless mentally does battle with Sky to a harp and in Broken Sword’s ritualistic encounter with Nameless on water. Without such non-diegetic accompaniments, our self-sacrificing character archetypes –the indomitable and determined warriors (Sky & Nameless), the enlightened swordsman (Broken Sword), and his devoted disciple (Moon)– would not have the appeal it does to audience empathy. This use of sound is cinematic shorthand for the deep emotions internal to the samurai warrior-like characters who seldom afford themselves the self-acknowledgement of frailty. Within Hero’s poetic text lies the filmmakers’ decidedly Eastern ideology.

5. nationalistic declaration for a unified China, the formalism of Hero’s color cinematography and its recurring overlay of operatic vocals make for a fictional narrative of assertive power. After the climax involving the demise of a major character –its central conflict– the film’s resolution shows a triumphant government whose enemies are destroyed; the subsequent onscreen fonts read “Our Land,” proclaiming the Emperor’s grand political success. Since we assume that the fictional Emperor refers to the actual first emperor of China, a nationalistic note is struck upon his triumph. Historically, however, the first emperor was a tyrant remembered for the mass-destruction, by burning, of Chinese literature and for mass-executions of his citizens. Therefore, by putting the audience in a position to empathize with the film’s teary-eyed Emperor whose ruthlessness prevails, Hero endorses the Emperor’s “sacrifice of individuals for the greater good.” [4] By deduction, Hero justifies the authoritarianism of Chinese regimes. It is particularly pejorative for some Chinese audiences, who remembers the opening bookend stating “in any war there are heroes on both sides,” to see the words “Our Land” hung like a victory flag over the backdrop of the Great Wall. For these contemporary Mainland viewers, a disquieting acceptance of the massacre at Tiananmen Square in 1989 comes to mind. This is the source of Hero’s controversy.

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