Course:ASIA355/2024/The Emperor and the Assassin: Branding the Formation of Feminist and Nationalistic Identity

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The Emperor and the Assassin: Branding the Formation of Feminist and Nationalist Identity

DVD Release Poster (1999)

Based on Chen Kaige's 1998 film The Emperor and the Assassin.

Group Members' Contributions

Distribution of Contributions
Category Contributors
Introduction MC
Stories Behind the Film AW
History of Reception KZ
Scholarly Literature Review MC
Comparative Analysis KZ
Alternative Interpretation AW
Conclusion MC

Introduction

Premiered in 1998 and re-released in 1999, fifth-generation director Chen Kaige’s The Emperor and the Assassin details another contemporary take on the titular persona of China’s first emperor, Ying Zheng, in his mission to unify the seven kingdoms that would become China. Drawing from Sima Qian’s Records of the Grand Historian[1], the focus of the film centres around Jing Ke’s (played by Zhang Fengyi) attempted regicide of Ying Zheng (played by Li Xuejian), at the request of Lady Zhao (played by Gong Li) who acts as a spy for Ying Zheng.

The deuteragonist of the film, Lady Zhao, is a new addition to the story of the first emperor, playing a significant role as both spy for the Qin kingdom and as sympathiser for Jing Ke. Having been the childhood lover of Ying Zheng, she infiltrates the Yan kingdom under the guise of being discarded by Ying Zheng in order to realise his ambitious goals of uniting “all that is under heaven (tianxia)”[2]. In the Yan kingdom, she hires Jing Ke as an assassin in hopes to frame the Yan royal family and incite war between Qin and Yan. Her motivation to actualize her lover’s ambitions, however, takes a bitter and genuine turn as, after growing paranoia, Ying Zheng enacts a massacre of her home kingdom of Zhao.

While many scholars have focussed on Chen’s commentary of nationalistic idealism and ambition through Ying Zheng and Jing Ke’s opposing characters, the figure of Lady Zhao and her nationalistic identity remains largely overlooked. Her role as both spy and consort raises questions not only surrounding the role of women within imperial China, but as well within contemporary 90s China and its post-socialist economic boom. By comparing her voice with other interpretations of historical Chinese women, we argue that Chen utilises Lady Zhao to reflect the instability of Confucian gender roles as reinforced within the 1990s post-socialist era in China; through Zhao’s transitioning desire to realise her partner’s dreams to bitter resentment for the necessity of such fate, Chen commentates on the ways women’s roles often appear overlooked under the larger scope of history.

Stories Behind the Film

Media Criticism and Revisions

After its premiere at the Great Hall of the People in 1998, The Emperor and The Assassin attracted significant media criticism[3]. The initial version of the film, though grand in scale and deeply rooted in historical events, was criticized for its narrative structure and pacing. Chen Kaige, known for his dedication to his artistic vision, took these criticisms seriously. Instead of dismissing the feedback, he decided to revise the film, a move that was both unexpected and indicative of his commitment to producing a work that resonated with both critics and audiences.

Chen Kaige's revisions were substantial; he restructured the film, reducing its length by 15 minutes, and added five title cards to separate the five major acts of the film—“King of Qin,” “Assassin,” “Children,” “Doctor Zhao,” and “King of Qin and Assassin”—to further provide narrative clarity and accessibility[3]. The restructuring was designed to overcome the confusion that some viewers experienced without compromising the film’s artistic integrity.

The revised version, which premiered after these changes in 1999, won the Best Technical Award at Cannes[4] and performed impressively in the Japanese market, grossing $15 million and ranking third in the annual box office in Japan[3].

Japanese Version and Market Strategy

Interestingly, the film was first released in Japan under the title The Assassination of Qin Shi Huangdi in 1998. This version, which differed significantly from the one later released in China, was edited to meet the expectations and tastes of the Japanese audience [5].  The Japanese version focused more heavily on the character of Ying Zheng, making him the central figure around which the plot revolved[6][5]. Despite the narrative shortcomings that Chen Kaige himself acknowledged, the film's success in Japan underscored the global appeal of its story and themes[6]. The film’s reception abroad, combined with the honor at Cannes, rekindled interest in China. This led to a re-release of the revised Chinese version, which was positioned to re-engage domestic audiences. The decision to alter the film for different markets highlights the complexities of international film distribution and the need to balance artistic vision with commercial viability.

Alternate Versions

Viewers and followers of Kaige also recount DVD versions of Emperor and The Assassin where The Blind Girls (Zhou-sun) scene is completely replaced by a verbal depiction of the incident[4]. As well, the film was deemed regime-critical by Chinese censors and had to be recut in order to meet the expectations of censors before being available for domestic audiences [4][5].

Production Challenges and Artistic Vision

The production of The Emperor and The Assassin was a monumental effort, involving a significant budget and extensive location shooting across China [7]. The film's grand scenes, including battle sequences and elaborate set designs that were shot in inner Mongolia, were meticulously crafted to authentically represent the historical period;  however, these large-scale productions were not without their challenges. For instance, the siege scenes [7] [8], despite their grandeur, faced criticism for lacking the tension and impact that might be expected from such monumental events [7].

Chen Kaige faced additional personal and professional challenges during production due to the rising budget and being the biggest Chinese production at the time. Though fraught with production issues and lofty goals set out by Kaige, the film’s stories ultimately align itself with the themes of the actual film, where it’s resilience through production can be further broadcasted as sacrifice and self-discovery in the contemporary Chinese landscape of the late 1990s and 2000s.

Thematic Depth and Political Allegory

Beyond its production history, The Emperor and The Assassin carries a profound thematic and political resonance. The film can be seen as a commentary on the nature of power, the costs of unification, and the moral complexities of political ambition. The inclusion of scenes like the discovery of the dead children not only serves the narrative but also acts as a political allegory for the sacrifices made in the name of national unity—paralleling historical and contemporary events in China, such as the pro-democracy movements. Chen Kaige remarked on the timeless nature of resistance, comparing the assassin’s courage to the contemporary era:

"Two thousand years ago, the Chinese people were very different from now. So think of the assassin: he is facing the biggest empire and the most powerful emperor in the world, and he stands up and says no, this is wrong. You can't find this kind of person in China today because people believe that the most important thing is making money." [9]

Chen Kaige’s reflection on the film’s themes, particularly in relation to the narrative of peace under Qin Shi Huang, reveals his critical stance on the use of power and the sacrifices of individual lives for the collective good. Chen Kaige, who was part of the "Sent Down Youth" generation during the Cultural Revolution, brought a unique perspective to the film’s themes of power and resistance. Reflecting on his own experiences, he said, “I don't really believe that you can achieve it by killing people. Or by using force to make people shut up." [9] This statement underscores the film’s deeper philosophical questions about the use of force in achieving political goals.

Histories of the Film’s Reception

Chinese Critiques

Following the release of The Emperor and the Assassin, Chinese audiences vocalised their confusion and varying degrees of dislike for the film. Their dislike was due to a combination of reasons, including a seemingly illogical plot and supposed 'inaccurate' depiction of historical characters.

Chinese audiences were quick to point out the plot’s illogicalness, particularly regarding Ying Zheng’s assassination. According to a blog post by Wen Xue Si Mi (文学私秘), Ying Zheng displayed contradicting reactions, being caught unprepared and by surprise by Jing Ke although he was entirely aware of the plot[10]. This illogicalness was further highlighted by Lady Zhao’s passiveness despite her deep grudge against Ying Zheng, who wiped out her hometown. Even though she wanted him dead and personally trained Jing Ke for this purpose, when Ying Zheng appeared defenceless after killing Jing Ke, Lady Zhao simply strolled into the palace like “a heroine ready to die” to retrieve Jing Ke’s body[10].

Another reason for audience confusion was the depiction of historical characters within the film. Ying Zheng, Lady Zhao, and Jing Ke were portrayed in unexpected and subversive ways, striking a clear contrast from their historically established personas. Ying Zheng’s domineering, confident, and fierce character as described in historical records[11] was instead belittled as a cunning, boorish, and weak individual[12][13]. These differences in such a well-studied character did not sit well with Chinese viewers who felt the plot became too unfamiliar.

Lady Zhao’s addition in particular, having never existed in the first place, estranged many viewers watching the film. Netizens argued that Lady Zhao’s inner turmoil and conviction achieved nothing beyond the original agreement between her and Ying Zheng, one that was far-fetched and unnecessary to begin with, making her presence in the film difficult to understand or accept. A Chinese netizen created a blog post stating that the Qing emperor asking Lady Zhao to find an assassin to assassinate him in order to have an excuse to conquer Yan is ultimately far-fetched and unrealistic[14]. The fact, as proven by history, is that Qin was capable of conquering all kingdoms without the need of a premeditated assassination attempt, further highlights the irrelevance of Lady Zhao within the film. The overall decent historical accuracy was deemed irrelevant as a result of the subvert undertones present in the film.

This is not to say, however, that Chinese netizens were entirely unsatisfied with the film; rather, despite inaccuracies, Chinese audiences still praised casting decisions and the skill of those who acted in the film. A user commented on Douban saying that Lady Zhao’s character was baffling and unnecessary, especially since she has the same name and title as Ying Zheng’s mother, but that they rated the film two stars anyways because “the actors were indeed amazing”[15]. Additionally, several people felt that Li Xuejian, who played Ying Zheng in the film, perfectly portrayed the Qin Emperor in all his glory and desperation. Furthermore, the film's cast was composed of very popular and sought-after actors and actresses at the time.

Western Critiques

Contrasting with Chinese critiques of the film, the general Western consensus is that the film is an epic and detailed portrayal of Chinese history, albeit “undermined by confusing editing”[16]. The difference in reception between Chinese and Western audiences is due to different levels of historical knowledge and familiarity with the film’s theme of brutality in unification.  

Unlike Chinese critiques that emphasized the film’s deviation from Chinese history, Western audiences seemed to enjoy the dramatization effects brought by those deviations, including Lady Zhao’s betrayal and Ying Zheng’s multi-dimensional personality. Since Western audiences are relatively less knowledgeable regarding Chinese history, they are content with the context they receive from the film and were unbothered by the minute differences. According to scholar Yiyan Wang, we know that the film is “a grand picture of comprehensive history” that closely follows what is written in history books[1]. However, even for those who know little about Chinese history, The Emperor and the Assassin covers “an unfamiliar period of history”[17] in a way that ensures audience comprehension by “parceling out judicious bits of background on a purely need-to-know basis”[18]. As such, the conflicting opinions that differ between the two groups can be partially ascribed to their individual understanding and impression on the historical period being depicted throughout the film. Those who have a solidified conception of the film’s characters, stories, and background based on history books will have a harder time appreciating the film’s subvert portrayal of that time period than those without.

Another aspect contributing to the difference between Chinese and Western receptions is that the film revolved around the idea of unification. Interestingly, Western reviews of the film often mention how The Emperor and the Assassin “borrowed from the Western [genre],” or as the Oxford Mail specified, the theme of “national destiny”[19]. The familiar idea of a reluctant individual, hailed as a hero, who unites a nation at the price of losing people they care deeply about[19] appealed to Western fans. Stephen Holden with the New York Times noted that the film includes “stunning battle sequences that are awesome even by Hollywood’s blockbuster standards”[20]. From Holden’s comment, we can see Western audiences likely feel a sense of thematic familiarity from the film, which, following the mere exposure effect, ultimately leads to a favourable impression. In this case, the stimulus resulting in the mere exposure effect, which Bornstein and Craver-Lemley have defined to be the “repeated, unreinforced exposure to a stimulus would result in increased liking for that stimulus,” is the “national destiny” theme represented by Ying Zheng[21].

Scholarly Literature Review

Chen's The Emperor and the Assassin as Mirror to Zhang Yimou's Hero

Released only four years apart, many scholars such as Yiyan Wang and Maurizo Marinelli have taken to comparing the nuances between Chen Kaige’s The Emperor and the Assassin (1998) and Zhang Yimou’s Hero (2002) as representative for larger narratives on nationalistic identity within China post the socialist era and economic boom of the 1980s neoliberal market.

The Myth of China as a Nation Under Heaven

Due to the many interpretations and adaptations of Ying Zheng’s story, Yiyan Wang discusses the ways in which Ying Zheng’s ambivalent and ever-changing persona “run[s] parallel to changes in the sentiments and practices of contemporary nationalism in the People’s Republic of China (PRC)”[1]. In particular, rather than separating the two versions as explicitly contradictory or opposing interpretations, Wang analyzes Ying Zheng’s characterization in both films as symptomatic of a wider “unification complex”[1] that is present within both films and in the sociopolitical nature of their respective 1990s and 2000s releases.

Opening text to The Emperor and the Assassin (00:00:21)

Wang fixates on the opening titles sequences of both films that, while simplistic in style, ultimately suggest a naturalization of China’s existence as historically and mythically a single nation state in need of unification. She cites in particular with regards to Chen’s film, how its opening sequences “assumes the existence of China prior to the establishment of the central state by calling the wars between the states a ‘civil war’. This justifies one state conquering the others to bring the wars to an end”[1]. While the historicity and details of both Zhang and Chen’s rendition of the Jing Ke assassination attempt can be contested, the truth being portrayed nonetheless remains unquestioned.

Within the decades of the 90s and early 2000s, the image of China as a historically single empire or nation state was imperative to reclaiming a sense of national identity. As a means of reclaiming personal image, films such as Chen’s The Emperor and the Assassin and Zhang’s Hero sought to improve national image that lacked stability post the socialist era and into the neoliberal market.

Ying Zhengs Commandment 211.png
Ying Zheng's commandment (00:01:23-00:01:47)

Ying Zheng as Victim / Victimizer

Maurizio Marinelli interrogates the ways in which The Emperor and the Assassin and Hero respectively seek to interpret the founding myth of China through contrasting interpretations of Ying Zheng’s character. Marinelli separates the two versions of Ying Zheng primarily through differences in personal stakes: whereas Zhang’s rendition allows Ying Zheng the leniency to unite China as a noble mission, Chen’s portrayal is far more damning in its portrayal of tragic sacrifice and loss.

What interests Marinelli with their differing interpretations is the ways in which Ying Zheng’s person is tailored by his directors to either act as the ‘victim’ as is within Zhang’s Hero, or as the victimizer within Chen’s film[2]. While arguably in Chen’s film, Ying Zheng becomes victim to a larger political and ancestral mission he is opened with at the beginning of the film [citation, insert image from the beginning of the film], he nonetheless chooses to commit to violence as a paranoia response to losing control. Whilst Hero suggests that success for uniting "all under heaven (tianxia)"[2] comes due to the nobility of such a cause, The Emperor and the Assassin rather turns to Ying Zheng’s success as the fruits of losing his love, his family, his trust and ultimately himself.

Ying Zheng’s individuality as Marinelli argues is forsaken for the scheme of a greater narrative that is bestowed upon him[2]. Arguably, within the scope of the PRC and 1990s China, the image of the masculine as all sacrificing is while admittedly tragic is nonetheless a necessary evil within the larger scope of a nation-wide identity.

Predatory Silence Haunting Mythical Narratives

Deborah Porter takes a more intimate approach when analyzing Chen’s film, tracking the formation of Ying Zheng’s character in The Emperor and the Assassin as analogous with the unstable changes of national identity that China has gone through in order to achieve a sense of self-realization. Ying Zheng’s illegitimacy to the throne, she argues, acts akin to a phantom that forever haunts him throughout the course of his reign and, if in so understanding of his character as allegorical for the peoples of China, suggest “a single psyche, and by extension a collective consciousness—an emergent nation—may be haunted, and thus organized pathologically, by a phantom secret”[22].

In such case, Chen’s film works closer in tandem with the original source material of Sima Qian’s records and in particular emphasises the presence of silence that comes with the traumatic creation of political identity; “reflecting Sima’s narratological critique of the inevitability of historical processes, Kaige depicts both the Chinese empire and Ying Zheng as the progeny of silence, beings whose identities cannot be determined because the truth of their natures exists only in the unconscious”[22]. In other words, his paranoia, unstable mood swings and temperament, and ultimately imperial violence stems not simply from a ‘unification complex’ that is endowed to him by his ancestors, but also due to a separation anxiety that comes from his questionable origin and relation to the throne that refuses to be spoken of.

The Marquis' and Queen Dowager's son whom they wish to keep hidden from Ying Zheng (01:13:29)

The themes of repression do not simply end with Ying Zheng’s understanding of his birth but as well onto other characters who wish to supress knowledge of illegitimacy within their ranks. Whether this be Jing Ke and the repression of traumatic memory, or in the repression of filial identity as is seen when the Marquis’ son enters the council room asking for his father. In any regard, the means of suppression and repression remain the most powerful motivators and oppressors for the duration of the film.

Porter finishes, interpreting Chen’s work not simply as a commentary on unification complexes from post-socialist China, but as a direct address to the illusion of China and its mythical foundations; “The Emperor and the Assassin looks behind the replicative culture to the obsessive lies driving it, lies about continuity and destiny, lies that cannot be spoken but that exist nonetheless as an independent cultural entity, blocking at every turn the power to become an individual”[22].

Comparative Analysis

Female Identity and the Political/Nation State

In analysingThe Emperor and the Assassin through a feminist lens that extends into its commentary of National identity, comparison between Chen's film and Fang Peilin's 1939 film, Empress Wu, can be drawn. Both films depict significant historical periods in China that feature male-dominating patriarchal societies, with the female character navigating life in exploration of female power and agency.

The two films have several thematic similarities: heterosexual relationships with kings who overindulge their lovers to their demise, themes of sacrifice, ambition, and strategy surrounding female characters, and women rediscovering agency while managing patriarchal and gender limitations.

However, despite both films featuring the formation of female identity within the context of history both in the film and with respect to the influence of political situations surrounding its release, there is a divergence regarding response to national responsibilities, gender constructions, and socialist feminism within society at the time.

National Identities

China in 1939 was in a dramatically different sociopolitical state than China in 1999, with Nationalist-Communist tensions (1927-1949) and the handover of Hong Kong to China (1997). The resulting tensions and differences in national identity are evident in The Emperor and the Assassin and Empress Wu, particularly through the female characters in the films. Lady Zhao embodies the conflicting emotions behind Hong Kong rejoining mainland China, while Wu Zetian embodies society’s desire for stability during China’s civil war. Furthermore The Emperor and the Assassin, which reflected fluctuations in national identity during 1997 and the neutral, if not negative impacts brought by unification under the hands of an absolute ruler, contrasts with Empress Wu, conveying the necessity of an absolute ruler in times of division.

In The Emperor and the Assassin, we see the story behind the emperor who unified China; however, while Chen uses Ying Zheng’s ambition to represent the formation of national identity, Lady Zhao reflected the resulting societal reactions. In 1997, before the film's release, Hong Kong was reintegrated into mainland China. While the handover was initially perceived as a hopeful change, things soured when the political autonomy that Deng Xiaoping promised Hong Kong fell through[23]. Hong Kong citizens were faced with the dilemma of maintaining their existing national identity or morphing with that of mainland China. Chen reflects these conflicting emotions through Lady Zhao, as she grapples with her identity as a Zhao citizen and the King of Qin’s lover. She witnesses the sacrifices and ethical issues that are unavoidable in the unification of a nation, paralleling the contemporary ‘unification’ of Hong Kong and China, and struggles to find a safe haven for herself. Ultimately, she stands with the fallen Zhao, choosing the culture she grew up in over the kingdom with overwhelming power. Similarly, Hong Kong citizens have mostly opted to continue identifying as a Hong Konger, with some also embracing aspects of mainland China’s national identity, rather than complete assimilation[24].

In Empress Wu, Fang tells the story of China’s only female emperor, how she consolidated her power and ensured stable and prosperous national growth throughout her reign. Wu Zetian was a strong and effective leader who recognized and acted accordingly on, the unified China’s economical and political weaknesses as well as opportunities[25]. By working to improve the state of life of everyone living in China, as compared to a specific populace, Wu Zetian became a widely accepted leader. She went on to lead China to its “Golden Age” of prosperity in all facets, thereby highlighting the importance of effective leadership in forging a cohesive national identity[26]. The concept of having one absolute ruler, and the promotion of it through this film, was Fang’s way to convey China’s desire for a stable and unified nation during times of chaos and division. From 1927 to 1949, the period preceding and following the release of Empress Wu, China experienced a Civil War between Nationalists and Communists, economically stagnating on a nation-wide level. As such, Empress Wu serves as a reminder of the positive impacts national unity has on a country.

Patriarchal Limitations and Gender Constructs

In The Emperor and the Assassin, Lady Zhao is the lover of Ying Zheng, the King of Qin and soon-to-be first emperor of the united China. She has no power to her name; however, as Ying Zheng’s lover, she has the opportunity to inform his decisions and is treated with respect in Qin, thereby attaining a limited form of power. In this sense, while Lady Zhao conforms to the male-dominating power structure of the time, she uses her femininity and position to pursue her personal ambitions and take advantage of men at the top of the patriarchy, including Ying Zheng and the prince of Yan.  

Unlike Lady Zhao, Wu Zetian in Empress Wu desired to be in a position with full power so that she could personally put an end to the suffering brought by an inconsiderate and problematic ruler and have the power to lead the nation towards a brighter future. Like Lady Zhao, Wu Zetian was a favoured concubine (lover) to the emperor of the time; however, she was not content with using her limited power and strong political acumen on behalf of an incompetent emperor. Being dissatisfied with the Gao Zong, Wu Zetian sought to challenge traditional gender roles by wielding her femininity and position as a weapon to garner support from those around her. By channelling the persona of an innocent and pure maiden, she manipulates Gao Zong into removing those who oppose her while gaining supporters. Her intelligence and unwavering determination supported her rise as the only female emperor in the history of China and striking a clear contrast with Lady Zhao, who remains trapped in confucian values and unable to fully realize her ambitions.

Feminism

Lady Zhao conversing with her servant before branding her face (00:33:12-00:33:34)
Lady Zhao's empty smile
Upper-class and royalty's attire: multiple layers of clean fabric (00:49:04-00:49:35)
Middle-class attire: one or two layers of slightly worn fabric (00:50:01-00:50:09)
Lower-class attire, as seen on the boy on the right: single layer of dirty, rag-like fabric (00:50:23-00:50:27)

Feminist ideals in the different decades are reflected through the characterizations of Lady Zhao and Empress Wu, evident through their dilemmas, character complexities, and actions.

When The Emperor and the Assassin was released in 1998 and 1999, China was in the midst of a global uprise of feminist discourse, urging the Chinese populace to rethink traditional gender roles, women’s rights, and feminine expression. Entering the post-Cultural Revolution era, China began rediscovering femininity and shedding gender essentialism and uniformity. However, due to the uprise in sexual expression, China experienced a surge in gender inequality followed by the objectification of women[27]. In the early 1990s, the global second wave of feminism hit China, reinstating women’s rights and equality and leading to the enforcement of new legislation in China 1992, pushing back the “be a woman” trend[27].

In The Emperor and the Assassin, Chen reflects the luxury of having a choice, especially regarding female identity, through Lady Zhao in her moral dilemmas and indecisiveness. Throughout the film, she wavers between supporting her ambitious and reckless lover and plotting for his demise to prevent innocent bloodshed from his conquest. Chen also highlights and ridicules gender essentialism, the idea where one’s outward beauty is not important (不美也是美). In the film, Lady Zhao asks her servant, prior to branding her face, if her face is beautiful and if it will still be beautiful post-branding (00:33:12-00:33:34). Despite her seemingly authentic inquiry, her empty smile after hearing “you must be joking” implies that her question was rhetorical and self-ridiculing. From this, Chen conveys his dismay surrounding the concept of outward beauty being negligible, and by extension, his disapproval for gender essentialism and the objectification of women, and his support of feminism. Furthermore, Chen highlights the challenges women encounter in face of gender inequality by drawing a parallel with the inequality between classes brought by a patriarchal society. Judging by each class’ attire, we can gather that they have lived vastly different lives as a result of their class and upbringing. By showcasing class inequality, Chen encourages reflections of historical and contemporary issues of gender and power, resonating with feminist movements of that time.

Wu Zetian grieving over her dead child in front of Gao Zong in an effort to incriminate the empress (00:30:10-00:30:18)

In contrast with feminism being depicted through indecision and patriarchal inequality like in The Emperor and the Assassin, Fang Peilin chose to use determination and intelligence, on top of challenging gender norms, in Empress Wu. As Fang's film was released during pre-Communist China, it reflects the feminist ideals of the time, specifically regarding patriarchal limitations and traditional confucian values. At the time, women were oppressed and expected to be submissive while filling in domestic roles to serve the men around them[28]. Given the meek and silenced presence of women, Fang’s portrayal of Wu Zetian as an intelligent woman who feigns weakness to gain power conveys the potential for contemporary women to also stand against gender norms. Fang essentially maps a way out of oppression for women that avoids explicitly going against the men around them, thereby conforming with confucian values in order to eventually escape the toxicity. In the film, Wu Zetian executes manipulative and clever tactics that supported her portrayal as a resilient, strong, determined, intelligent, and confident woman who is practically ‘superhuman.’ Despite being in an environment that forces submission to a man, Wu Zetian maintained her individuality and broke through traditional gender roles, achieving what is conventionally impossible and 'superhuman.' As such, Empress Wu broadcasts the success story of China's only empress, someone who turned the tables, and propels feminist themes that were constrained by traditional gender norms and societal expectations.

Alternative Interpretation

Despite the aforementioned scholarly emphasis on Ying Zheng and the unification of China, the film can ultimately be gendered as a feminist narrative. In the context of imperial China, Lady Zhao's character embodies and subverts traditional gender roles, highlighting female agency within a patriarchal, Confucian society. Through Lady Zhao’s journey, Chen Kaige reveals the innate instability of Confucian gender roles, particularly in the 1990s post-socialist era in China. While Lady Zhao initially appears as a symbol of pure femininity, displaying the beauty, royal descent, and gentle features of a typical femme fatale, she also exhibits headstrong, crude traits and a self-awareness that drives her actions.

As Lady Zhao becomes disillusioned with her role and allegiance to King Ying Zheng, she transitions from an object of desire and a tool within the patriarchal framework to the primary force of resistance against the Qin empire. In this transformation, Chen Kaige sets up and reduces Ying Zheng to a mere figurehead, while the narrative increasingly centers on the female perspective, driven by Lady Zhao's actions and agency. Chen Kaige effectively rewrites history to foreground the female contribution to national history, highlighting how resistance to male-dominated unification can be gendered female. This aligns with traditional feminist film theory, which associates male characteristics with control, assertion, and knowledge, and female characteristics with chaos, disorder, and lack [29]. On a broader scale, the film serves as an allegory for late 20th-century China, where the pro-democratic movement, led by students seeking freedom of speech, was met with controlling disorder by the government. This political allegory strengthens the film's feminist reading.

Scene Analysis: The Branding of Lady Zhao and the Conception of the Assassination Plot

Reverse Shots and indications of deception (00:42:45)

One key scene illustrating Lady Zhao's subversion of traditional gender roles is her feigned loyalty to King Ying Zheng. Reverse shots reveal her true intentions, as her reactions of pleasure when her back is turned to Ying Zheng suggest she is literally scheming behind her king and lover. The mise-en-scène, particularly the prop of the killing dagger, further underscores this dynamic. When Ying Zheng hands the sword to Lady Zhao, it symbolizes his trust and control over the empire, but also the transfer of power to her. In feminist film theory, the phallus symbolizes control and is traditionally associated with the male [30]. By giving Lady Zhao the sword, Chen Kaige visually and symbolically transfers this power to her, reinforcing her agency and subversion of patriarchal norms.

Lady Zhao gets branded.png
Lady Zhao questions her beauty before the branding (00:35:10)

Lady Zhao’s branding serves as a pivotal moment that transforms her character and the film’s narrative. The act of branding serves not only as a physical marker for rebellion of criminality, but allegorically as  a symbolic renunciation of the beauty, status, and identity that has defined her within the patriarchal framework thus far. In a traditional sense, these attributes are often used to confine women to roles of passive objects of desire and instruments of male power. However, by embracing the branding, Lady Zhao subverts these expectations and reclaims her true femininity. This transformation realigns Lady Zhao with the canonicity of feminist film theory, which often portrays the female character as a disruptor of the patriarchal status quo. In this new role, Lady Zhao becomes a force of unpredictability and disorder, qualities traditionally coded as feminine in opposition to the male-associated traits of control and order. Her actions, motivated by a deep sense of betrayal and injustice, drive the narrative towards an alternative resolution—one where female agency is not only present but central to the film’s outcome. The act of branding, therefore, is not a mere plot device; it is a powerful visual and symbolic statement that redefines Lady Zhao's character. It underscores her agency and her willingness to sacrifice her former identity to embrace a new one, one that is self-defined and rooted in resistance. This act disrupts the male gaze, which seeks to control and define women through their appearances and roles, and instead positions Lady Zhao as the embodiment of feminist resistance within the film.

Phallic objects in Emperor and the Assassin (00:41:50)

Scene Analysis: Finding Dead Children at the Defeat of the Han Empire

Finding dead children in the ruined kingdom of Han (02:05:21)
Lady Zhao renounces Ying Zheng (02:06:52)

The scene where the dead children are discovered after the defeat of the Han empire is a critical moment that exposes the brutal consequences of Ying Zheng’s ambition to unify China. It serves as a stark reminder of the human cost of his imperialist dreams. The discovery of the dead children is emotionally harrowing, not just for the characters within the film, but also for the audience, as it forces a confrontation with the cold, destructive realities of power and ambition. From a feminist perspective, this scene can be viewed as a moment of awakening for Lady Zhao, where the personal and political intersect in a deeply traumatic way. The deaths of the children symbolize the ultimate betrayal of the vulnerable by the structures of power, which are overwhelmingly male-dominated in the film. In traditional narratives, women are often relegated to roles of nurturing and emotional support, particularly in the face of such tragedy. However, Lady Zhao's response goes beyond this archetype. Her sorrow quickly transforms into a resolve to act against the very system that perpetuated this violence. In this way, the scene serves as a narrative device that strips her of any remaining ties to the patriarchal structures and empowers her to become an agent of resistance. The dead children are not merely victims, but symbols of the loss of innocence and the destruction wrought by unchecked male ambition.

Desolate aftermaths of war in Han (02:06:15)

The visual and auditory elements of the scene—the stark, desolate setting, the haunting silence, the close-ups of Lady Zhao's anguished face—emphasize the emotional and moral weight of the discovery. The camera lingers on Lady Zhao's reaction, allowing the audience to fully engage with her emotional journey, rather than cutting away to male characters or external actions. This focus on her internal experience subverts the traditional male gaze by centering a woman's response and agency in the face of patriarchal violence .The dead children can be seen as a metaphor for the lives lost during the political climate of the late 20th century, particularly the aftermath of events like the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989. The film uses this tragic imagery to reflect on the cyclical nature of history, where the innocent continue to suffer under the weight of political machinations.

Conclusion

Between the initial releases’ poor critical reception and various rereleases to accommodate edits and revisions, Chen nonetheless strove to present a film that commentated on the intricacies of national identity and post-socialist feminism. Through Lady Zhao’s character and acts of resistance, Chen ultimately questions the ways in which national identity and, by extension, feminine national identity is manipulated and articulated to fit within holistic narratives of nation state myth and history. The initial critical reception, both by critics and audiences alike, while scathing at its initial release, ultimately shaped the film to earn the Best Technical Grand Prize at Cannes during its 1999 releases, many award nominations, and mark the film as a staple within Chinese cinema history.

Whether through the film’s various re-releases and re-edits to appeal to audience expectations, the creation of Lady Zhao to create further film depth, or Lady Zhao’s intra-plot decisions to brand herself and fill the role of spy, Chen problematizes question of manufactured identity within commercial blockbuster film and by extension national settings. He asks that in the bigger picture, if even the most minute of details must be constructed to create an acceptable and appealing film, to what extent can all other aspects of history, life, and gender can be turned into malleable popular culture and social truths. While Chen ultimately does not offer his own answer to his questions regarding such identity fluidity, he rather seeks to confront audiences with their understanding of Chinese nation-state myth as identity. Rather than simply retell histories and current events as they happen, he emphasises the importance for viewers too to investigate the ways in which myths are written with the intent to self-substantiate itself through contemporary popular culture, and how popular culture self-propagates through accepted social ‘truths.’ The fabric of gender normatives, history, and popular culture are all ultimately manipulated to fit within a national narrative, constantly remodelled, remade, and refashioned.

References

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  2. ↑ 2.0 2.1 2.2 2.3 Marinelli, Maurizo (September 2005). "Heroism/Terrorism: Empire Building in Contemporary Chinese Films". Asian Cinema. 16 (2): 183–209 – via Intellect Discover.
  3. ↑ 3.0 3.1 3.2 Bin, Chen (August 12, 1999). "谈谈荆轲"二刺"秦王 (Talk about Jing Ke's "Second Stab" of the King of Qin)". Sina.
  4. ↑ 4.0 4.1 4.2 "The Emperor and the Assassin". IMDB.
  5. ↑ 5.0 5.1 5.2 "扑朔迷离的多版本电影". 豆瓣电影. 2006-12-07. |first= missing |last= (help)
  6. ↑ 6.0 6.1 Hu, Brian (August 3, 2006). "Yellow Earth: An Interview with Chen Kaige". UCLA ASIA PACIFIC CENTER.
  7. ↑ 7.0 7.1 7.2 "陈凯歌这片是真亏大发了，占地800亩炸掉5座山，票房却仅收1000万". 163. 2020-07-31. |first= missing |last= (help)
  8. ↑ Walters, Mark. "Director CHEN KAIGE talks TOGETHER". BIGFANBOY.com.
  9. ↑ 9.0 9.1 BRUNETTE, PETER (December 12, 1999). "Chen Kaige: From His Act of Betrayal Comes the Stuff of a Career". New York Times.
  10. ↑ 10.0 10.1 "陈凯歌当年的大片《荆轲刺秦王》让人看不下去的原因解析" [Reasons why Chen Kaige's film "The Emperor and the Assassin" was hard for people to watch]. Sohu. June 1, 2018.
  11. ↑ Müller, Claudius Cornelius. "Qin Shi Huang". Britannica. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  12. ↑ Mo, Xiaocha (May 8, 2022). "姜文跟陈凯歌闹掰，片场直接撂挑子，荆轲刺秦王究竟请了多少巨星" [Jiang Wen and Chen Kaige had a falling out, abandoning responsibilities on set, how many superstars were invited to act in "The Emperor and the Assassin"]. Wangyi.
  13. ↑ "陈凯歌被严重低估的一部电影——《荆轲刺秦王》" [Chen Kaige's most underestimated film - "The Emperor and the Assassin"]. Wangyi. November 21, 2020. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  14. ↑ "浅谈陈凯歌电影《荆轲刺秦王》:演员们演活了角色" [A brief discussion on Chen Kaige's film "The Emperor and the Assassin": The actors breathed life into their characters]. Wangyi. November 3, 2019. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  15. ↑ "荆轲刺秦王 短评" ["The Emperor and the Assassin" Short Reviews]. Douban (Comment by user on platform). December 20, 2009. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  16. ↑ von Tunzelmann, Alex (September 25, 2014). "The Emperor and the Assassin: slashing and burning its way through Chinese history". The Guardian. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  17. ↑ Thomson, Michael (July 20, 2000). "The Emperor and the Assassin (2000)". BBC. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  18. ↑ Baumgarten, Marjorie (February 18, 2000). "The Emperor and the Assassin". Austin Chronicle. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  19. ↑ 19.0 19.1 "Review: The Emperor and the Assassin". Oxford Mail. August 3, 2000. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  20. ↑ Holden, Stephen (December 17, 1999). "'The Emperor and the Assassin': A Bloodthirsty Unification of China". The New York Times. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  21. ↑ Bornstein, Robert F.; Craver-Lemley, Catherine (2022). Cognitive Illusions. Routledge. pp. 241–256. ISBN 9781003154730.
  22. ↑ 22.0 22.1 22.2 Porter, Deborah (2008). "Character Assassination?: Empire Building and Cultural Pathology in Chen Kaige's The Emperor and the Assassin". Film & History: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Film and Television Studies. 38 (2): 21–31 – via Project MUSE.
  23. ↑ Young, Ernest P.; Rawski, Evelyn S. "Relief of China". Britannica. Retrieved August 1, 2024.
  24. ↑ Corichi, Manolo; Huang, Christine (December 5, 2023). "How people in Hong Kong view mainland China and their own identity". Pew Research Center.
  25. ↑ "The First and Only Woman Emperor of China". Google Arts and Culture.
  26. ↑ Lee, Yuen Ting (Fall 2015). "Wu Zhao: Ruler of Tang Dynasty China". Education About Asia. 20: 14–18 – via Association for Asian Studies.
  27. ↑ 27.0 27.1 Shen, Yifei (2016). Feminism in China: An Analysis of Advocates, Debates, and Strategies. Shanghai: Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung. pp. 16–19.
  28. ↑ Batista, Juliana (August 29, 2017). "The Confucianism-Feminism Conflict: Why a New Understanding is Necessary". Schwarzman Scholars.
  29. ↑ Mulvey, Laura (1988). Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema. Routledge. ISBN 9780203699362.
  30. ↑ Snekuj, AM (2007). Feminist Film Theory. Radboud Repository. pp. 491–504. ISBN 978184451932 Check |isbn= value: length (help).
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