Not even close to his best work, Chinese filmmaker Zhang Yimou-far from a favorite of Chinese authorities, and frequently harassed and stymied in his career-creates an impressive-looking period piece in this gangland story set in the 1930s. Gong Li (Raise the Red Lantern) gives a colorful performance as a nightclub diva who is the mistress of a mob boss. Told from the point of view of a boy (Wang Xiaoxiao) sent by the gangster to wait on the arrogant singer, the story follows these characters over several days as they flee Shanghai to hide out in the countryside. A supreme stylist, Zhang in his best work (Ju Dou, The Story of Qui Ju) is not dependent on conventional story structures or expensive sets. But Shanghai Triad leans heavily on both, and while it is an interesting and enjoyable film-and not without subtle allusions to the political climate and culture in modern China-it is finally an unsatisfying experience. The saving graces are the performances, most of all that of the masterful, chameleonlike Gong Li. -Tom Keogh.

The kick is never shown, but the entire film is based around it. It's winter in the remote Shaanxi province. Pregnant Qiu Ju (Gong Li, 2046) is married to laidback farmer Qinglai (Liu Pei Qi). When village chief Wang (Lei Lao Sheng) kicks him during an argument, she sets out to ensure that her husband receives medical attention-and justice. Clad in a bulky jacket, face partially obscured by a thick scarf, the strong-willed woman, joined by sister-in-law Meizi (Yang Liu Chun), travels far and wide to find someone who can coerce Wang to apologize (she asked, he refused). All agree the chief was in the wrong, but each authority with whom she meets hands her off to another. Along the way, the couple is offered financial compensation (for medical care and lost wages), but an apology is as elusive as a dragonfly in December. Taking cues from both Frank Capra (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington) and Vittorio De Sica (Bicycle Thieves), Zhang Yimou (House of Flying Daggers) presents modern-day China as a country where bureaucrats run the show and the citizens-especially the women-must suffer the consequences. Fortunately, some are more persistent than others, and The Story of Qiu Ju is far from tragic. [+]

The panorama of 20th-century Chinese history swirls past two men, celebrated actors with their own decidedly specialized view of things. We first observe their lives as children at the Peking Opera training school, a brutal and demanding arena for future actors. While still in training, the effeminate Douzi is chosen to play the transvestite role and the masculine Shitou is chosen to play the royal role in a ritualized play about a king and a concubine. The actors are so good at this performance that they become identified with these roles for their entire careers; through World War II, through the takeover by the Communists, through the insanity of the Cultural Revolution, they are known for their famous parts. Leslie Cheung and Zhang Fengyi are powerful as the two men, and Gong Li (the beautiful leading lady of Raise the Red Lantern) plays the wife of the latter. The movie may be stronger on good old-fashioned melodrama than on profound conclusions, but boy, does it fill up the eyes. The director is Chen Kaige, one of the most talented members of China's "Fifth Generation" of filmmakers, whose daring subject matter (and sometimes bald international ambitions) have often irked the Chinese government. Indeed, though Farewell My Concubine shared the top prize at the 1993 Cannes Film Festival and snagged two Oscar nominations, it had difficulty gaining official approval from China. -Robert Horton.

Chen Kaige, the director of Farewell My Concubine, returns with another sumptuous, if hard to follow, film about old China. Set in the decadent 1920s, Temptress Moon tells the very complicated story of a wealthy family living on the outskirts of Shanghai. Their youngest daughter, Ruyi, is brought up as a servant to her opium-addicted father and brother. Meanwhile, her brother-in-law Zhongliang has a successful, if illegal, career seducing and blackmailing married women in the city. When he comes to Ruyi's home the two fall in love, and trouble ensues. Mostly, though, Temptress Moon is about beautiful images. The densely populated plot is basically an excuse for showing golden bells and bowls, pagoda roofs set against the moon, and richly woven carpets. More of a meditation than a movie, Temptress Moon is probably not as accessible or enjoyable as its critically acclaimed predecessor Farewell My Concubine, which may be a better place to start in the appreciation of contemporary Chinese cinema. -James DiGiovanna.

The panorama of 20th-century Chinese history swirls past two men, celebrated actors with their own decidedly specialized view of things. We first observe their lives as children at the Peking Opera training school, a brutal and demanding arena for future actors. While still in training, the effeminate Douzi is chosen to play the transvestite role and the masculine Shitou is chosen to play the royal role in a ritualized play about a king and a concubine. The actors are so good at this performance that they become identified with these roles for their entire careers; through World War II, through the takeover by the Communists, through the insanity of the Cultural Revolution, they are known for their famous parts. Leslie Cheung and Zhang Fengyi are powerful as the two men, and Gong Li (the beautiful leading lady of Raise the Red Lantern) plays the wife of the latter. The movie may be stronger on good old-fashioned melodrama than on profound conclusions, but boy, does it fill up the eyes. The director is Chen Kaige, one of the most talented members of China's "Fifth Generation" of filmmakers, whose daring subject matter (and sometimes bald international ambitions) have often irked the Chinese government. Indeed, though Farewell My Concubine shared the top prize at the 1993 Cannes Film Festival and snagged two Oscar nominations, it had difficulty gaining official approval from China. -Robert Horton.

One of the best films of 1994, To Live is a bold, energetic masterpiece from Zhang Yimou, the foremost director from China's influential "fifth generation" of filmmakers. Continuing his brilliant collaboration with China's best-known actress Gong Li (their previous films include Ju Dou and Raise the Red Lantern), Zhang weaves an ambitious tapestry of personal and political events, following the struggles of an impoverished husband and wife (Ge You, Gong Li) from their heyday in the 1940s to the hardships that accompanied the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s. They raise two children amidst a Communist regime, surviving numerous setbacks and yet managing, somehow, to live. Both intimate and epic, Zhang's film encompasses the simplest and most profound realities of Chinese life during this controversial period, and for their honesty, Zhang and Gong Li faced a two-year ban on future collaborations. To Live is a testament to their art, transcending politics to celebrate the tenacity of ordinary people in the wake of turbulent history. -Jeff Shannon.