By Lee Hyo-won
Staff Reporter
Chow Yun-fat had teasingly blamed his wife's financial control and taste for expensive handbags in choosing such questionable projects as ``Dragonball: Evolution.''
He was heard cracking the same joke about taking on the role of the ancient Chinese philosopher in ``Confucius.'' But the star need not ``blame'' conjugal power dynamics for taking part in a less-than-impressive film.
The $20 million biopic is a state-backed project whipped up for the 60th anniversary of the People's Republic last year. In light of reports that Confucius' teachings are taught in Chinese prisons, it should come as no surprise that it molds its titular figure into excruciatingly uncreative degrees of political correctness.
Chinese authorities canceled up to 1,500 ``Avatar'' screenings to make room for the film. But in the production itself, it seems there wasn't room for director Mei Hu to experiment in any way. The painfully slow-paced story seems tailor-made to be mandatory viewing for junior high history classes.
But apart from offering close to no cinematic novelty, the movie's bland mix of fact and legend undermines even its political initiative.
``Confucius'' takes the viewer back two-and-a-half millennia to the kingdom of Lu. Confucius emerges as the most influential thinker of the day: He addresses humanitarian issues with the passion of Gandhi and wit of Socrates, and leads troops to victory with cunning strategies reminiscent of Zhuge Liang.
But the political powerhouses of Lu start feeling threatened by Confucius, fearing they may lose their control over the puppet king. And so our protagonist goes willingly into exile. He wanders from state to state, never exhausting his ideals for peace and harmony.
Chow was in fact very serious about playing the philosopher and it shows. He had reportedly turned down the part a few years ago because he didn't feel comfortable playing a younger Confucius.
Indeed, the middle-aged actor sports a beard, scholarly robe and astute expression with grace ― it's a natural transformation from his iconic hero roles in 1980s Hong Kong cinema.
Chow plays a man who, though exercising the superhuman power of persuasion, is nevertheless flesh and blood. The movie however eclipses any mortal vibe the actor brings to Confucius with a blinding halo glow, complete with celestial music every time he saves the world.
There's nothing inherently wrong with idolization; it only becomes a problem because of the movie's overall lack of narrative perspective, and it stops short of being a superficial sketch of the complex man. This is especially unfortunate since the director is known for psychological intrigue.
Putting character flaws aside, the battle scenes are epic, palaces span endlessly and ornate period decor ― including beautiful women as ``centerpieces'' ― add occasional splashes of vibrancy to the earthy color palette. But this is something we've all seen before in recent big budget Chinese productions.
The film is mostly devoted to Confucius mumbling sayings and proceeding through long, drawn-out rites. The movie highlights anachronism rather than point to the enduring significance of the master's teachings.
It fails to convince for example why Confucius' disciples would happily abandon their families and keep him company through the harsh years of exile. Even a so-called romantic scene with a royal femme fatale is lackluster and devoid of nuance.
The movie should have stuck to one cohesive genre: a strict historiography laden with heated political drama, a demystified humanization of Confucius (such as his commoner roots) or an all-out crowd pleasing fantasy bursting with action and larger-than-life visuals.
That way, at least, it wouldn't feel like propaganda packaged as history homework.
In theaters Feb. 11. Distributed by Cinergy.