Princess Yang Kwei Fei (Yôkihi, 1955)
Mizoguchi Kenji
Japan
98 mins, color, Japanese (English subtitles)
There has always been something less than satisfying in the ending of popular Western folk tales. The "lived happily ever after" bit was always a bit mysterious to me; I could never understand why, in the world, once the protagonists overcome some series of trials, they are never tested again. These endings have always sounded to me like death, not happiness. Take, for example, the story of Cinderella. Why would she and the prince live happily ever after? They would not, and this is the story that Mizoguchi tells in his wonderful understated manner.
In eighth century China, the Emperor (Masayuki Mori, who was also in Mizoguchi's UGETSU) grieves over his late wife. The Yang family, lusting after powerful positions the Capital, try to arrange for the Emperor to take one of the daughters of the house, but he refuses. Upon a visit to the Yangs, An Lu Shan (So Yamamura) spots the lovely distant cousin toiling in the kitchen. He immediately recognizes her beauty and her semblance to the late Empress, and sets up an introduction to the Court. The Emperor falls in love with her and she becomes Princess Yang Kwei Fei (Machiko Kyo). This is where the Cinderella story ends, but it is barely the beginning here. As Kwei Fei's relatives rise to power and acquire the coveted posts, their abuse of authority and extravagant lifestyle stir up the heavily-taxed populace to discontent. An Lu Shan, who has been insufficiently promoted (i.e. brushed aside without being given a sinecure), uses the popular feelings to start a revolt and moves his army intending to seize the Capital. The Imperial Guards demand the lives of the hateful Yangs before they would defend the throne. The Emperor is forced to sacrifice Kwei Fei, but that does not save him, and he is dethroned by his son. Although the rebellion is put down, the former Emperor dies old and unhappy years later. In a typical Mizoguchi "happy ending," the ghost of Kwei Fei comes at the time of death to unite with him, and they both depart to live in happy love ever after in the other world.
The great Machiko Kyo (RASHOMON and UGETSU) looks better than ever; colors really do her justice. The subdued, but sincere, presence, which so impresses the Emperor can be seen in every little motion she makes. There is not a single outburst of extrovert passion from her during the entire film, and nevertheless her portrayal of the Princess is full of feeling, seething underneath the calm exterior. The dance at the Festival and the scene where she leaves the Emperor are probably exemplary of her talent. Mizoguchi does not dwell much on other characters, they are broadly painted without detail, and are somewhat unidimensional. Most attention is paid on the Princess (not surprising, given the title of the film), and some to the Emperor, who ends up looking like a weakling. It may have been true that he was constrained by his own laws, but it is also true that he could always write new ones. His "suffering" is null and void. It is perhaps best to ignore that part and just pay attention to Machiko Kyo as she certainly carries the whole film on the strength of her own performance.
Mizoguchi's pacing may be somewhat slow for modern audiences, especially those that are accustomed to Hollywood or Hong Kong cinema. The camera moves deliberately, panning across rooms, providing detailed pictures of interiors, and setting the tone for the scenes. This is typical Mizoguchi, and must be seen more than once to be fully appreciated. I have always liked his choice of music (certainly better than Kurosawa's), and this film is no exception. One minor point is that the music was Japanese, while the story is set in China, but that's nothing too major to worry about. The sets are meticulous and the costumes are superb. A really nice fairy tale, which is uncommonly tragic.
April 29, 2001. BLS