A Film Without the Flash
Gu
Changwei's `Peacock' Doesn't Need Gimmicks -- or Kung Fu
By PAUL MOONEY in Beijing
GU CHANGWEI'S directorial debut, "Peacock," has none of the flash or
gimmicks of China's recent blockbusters. There are no crouching tigers
or hidden dragons, no kung fu hustle. This may help explain why the
script for Peacock, written by Henan writer Li Qiang, the author of a
novel by the same name, gathered dust in directors' offices for some
seven years without any takers. Several directors read it, but were
ultimately afraid that such a simple story would flop at the box office.
The thoughtful
Mr. Gu, however, immediately recognized the script's potential and
succeeded in turning it into one of the best Chinese films of recent
years. Peacock hits Chinese cinemas Friday,
the same day that it will
be screened at the Berlin Film Festival. But limited screenings in Beijing
have already sparked emotional
memories, by showcasing the
collective suffering of the first three decades of Communist rule.
Many Chinese --
even those now living in Beijing's gleaming high-rise complexes
-- have no trouble seeing themselves in the film. A typical
comment by those who viewed the film is "that's my story," or "that's
the story of my parents."
Mr. Gu calls his film "a subtle investigation into the human condition"
during a period of wrenching change. Peacock is the story of an
ordinary family struggling to get ahead as China shifts from the
post-Cultural Revolution period
to the early days of reform. Chinese
society is slowly opening up, offering the first glimmers of hope to
the people who have survived the previous years of trauma. The artistic
two-hour film -- shot in a small city in Henan province in the local
dialect -- moves slowly but forcefully, with long camera shots and
short but poignant dialogues. Mr. Gu's cinematography beautifully
captures the blues and grays of urban life.
While "Peacock" spotlights a highly politicized period of modern
history, at first glance politics is curiously absent from the movie.
The characters mouth no political slogans, there are no Chairman Mao
portraits hanging anywhere, no political slogans splashed across the
walls. There's not a red armband to be found. The only hint of politics
appears as the movie opens and we hear the faint sound of a marching
crowd shouting in the distance. But the sad predicament of the family
shows that politics is always there, hidden between the frames of the
film.
Peacock unfolds in three segments as the story of each of the three
children is separately told. We first meet Jiejie, or elder sister, a
precocious woman in her early 20s. Then comes Gege, or elder brother,
who is around 24, obese and slightly retarded. Last is Didi, or younger
brother, an introverted high-school student. Each segment begins with
the same scene of the family sitting on small stools eating dinner on
the public balcony of their dusty apartment building.
Peacock is really the story of Jiejie, masterfully played by Zhang
Jingchu, a graduate of the Beijing Film Academy. Ms. Zhang, for whom
Peacock is her first film, is already on her way to becoming a
superstar. Ms. Zhang dominates the movie with her natural portrayal of
the frustrated Jiejie, a young woman who is part daydreamer, part
romantic, and ultimately a realist, as all Chinese had to be in those
days.
Anyone who grew up in pre-reform China can sympathize with Jiejie's
predicament. She is a trapped in a sad reality that she does not know
how to escape. Like her two brothers, she wants more out of life, but
she is
powerless to do anything. And China in the late 1970s did not offer
many options.

She gets fired from her job in a nursery school, and then
ends up washing bottles in a dingy factory. But
what she lacks in ability, she makes up for in boldness. Early in the
movie we see her putting her laundry aside
on the roof to lie down and stare up at the sky as Air Force planes
roar overhead, spitting out
People's Liberation Army
paratroopers. Jiejie rides her bicycle out to a field as paratroopers
continue to float to the ground, managing to get caught in the chute of
a handsome PLA soldier. The impressionable woman then tries to enlist
in the army as a paratrooper -- an attempt to escape her family and
dead-end life -- but she fails the physical examination.
One poignant scene shows her riding down the street with a billowing,
homemade parachute tied to the back of her
bicycle. As her bicycle races forward, she stretches her two hands into
the air, one of the
few times we
see her smiling and carefree in the
movie. The fun ends
quickly, however, when her mother sees the
spectacle and chases down the street trying to grab the wind-filled,
swaying parachute. Mother, daughter, bicycle and parachute come
crashing to the ground.
In the end, Jiejie offers her one advantage -- her
beauty --
to an older, homely-looking man in exchange for a better
job. Jiejie
boldly proposes marriage to the shocked
man, who nervously asks if they
aren't being a bit hasty. She replies that's there no reason to wait.
"I'm not going to get any better, and you're not going to get any
worse," she says matter-of-factly. Her marriage lands her a new job, but
not one that appears to be much better than her old one. The
next two
segments show her brothers going through a similar process, before they
too eventually consign themselves to their own sad fates.
Probably China's
finest cinematographer, Mr. Gu has shot films such as "Red Sorghum,"
"Judou," "Farewell My Concubine," "King of Children" and "In the Heat
of the Sun," working with the best of the big-name directors such as
Zhang Yimou, Chen Kaige and Jiang Wen. He spent several years in
Hollywood gaining more experience working as a cinematographer on
American films. For years, Mr. Gu yearned to try his hand at directing,
but was waiting for the right script.
"Peacock" turned out to be well worth the wait. The movie succeeds
because of its simple but bittersweet cinematography, excellent
performances by a cast of new young actors, and its ability to capture
the grim realities of China's recent past.