The Golden Era:Who’s Afraid of Xiao Hong?

I am a big fan of both Xiao Hong and Ann Hui and a researcher of modern literature who happens to also often write film reviews. While watching The Golden Era， I began brainstorming how one could make a “l(fā)iterary” movie. By“l(fā)iterary movie，” I mean a film with literary characteristics rather than a film adaptation of classic literature or a poetic film.

The Golden Era， lacking the aforementioned literary characteristics， is merely a compilation of historical records of contemporary Chinese literature. Literature historian Yang Zao commented that the film seems like a “dissertation collapsing under the pressure of historical records.”In this regard， I agree with him. The storylines and script of the film are strictly based on Xiao Hong’s work as well as her friends’ essays in memory of her. In the film， some writers and poets contemporary to Xiao Hong， such as Bai Lang， Luo Feng， Shu Qun， Mei Zhi， Xu Guangping， Nie Gannu， Hu Feng， Ding Ling， Jiang Xijin， and Luo Binji， become narrators of the early years of Xiao and the big changes in her life. Those characters speak their respective essays commemorating Xiao Hong as if they were being interviewed by a documentarian. The film opted for accuracy about Xiao Hong over fiction and fabrication for the sake of a story. Many of the essays contain superb prose. The Golden Era reflects the circle of Chinese writers， especially the leftists， in the 1930s， by illustrating Xiao Hong’s life. So， why isn’t the film about literature？

In my eyes， the film is only about the history of literature， not literature itself. This is the crux of the film. The historic context of literature is distant from today’s people， while literature is something specific， metaphoric and perpetually timely. Why does the film let its viewers drift to the distance and fail to depict Xiao Hong’s soul and spirit？ The primary reason is that the history of literature is now in the hands of future generations. The alienating effect of the film makes spectators uncomfortable. This isn’t because alienation itself is wrong or only suited for stage plays. In the film， characters who lived in the time of Xiao Hong are part of her life， but at the same time narrate and appraise her life from the perspective of future generations. Such a perspective makes them emotionless spectators and even a force pushing against Xiao Hong. They should be Xiao’s friends and share her destiny， but due to the film’s structure， they become outsiders peering in. Despite the fact that it is a biographic movie about Xiao Hong， the film only depicts the history of literature in the 1930s， and fails to paint a clear picture of the inner world of the female writer.

The first scene of the film epitomizes its nature as a depiction of the history of literature. Xiao Hong， played by Chinese actress Tang Wei， coldly states， “I’m Xiao Hong， and my birth name is Zhang Naiying. On June 1， 1911， I was born to a landlord’s family in Hulan County， Heilongjiang Province. At the age of 31， I passed away from an illness in the Hong Kong Red Cross temporary hospital at St. Stephen’s Girls’ College at 11 a.m.， on January 22， 1942.” Of course， the narration comes off strange because no one can state the time and location of their death while alive. It creates an ironic effect. The paradox reflected in Xiao’s narration sets the framework for other narrators in the film. Surprisingly， the monologue doesn’t even mention literature or say anything to the extent of “I’m a writer.” The film contains no images depicting writing， text， or literary works， but instead the calamitous experience of Xiao Hong. This is the nature of The Golden Era.

It is important for film portraying writers and literature to specifically and vividly depict how they write. For instance， the documentary series， The Inspired Island： A Series of Eminent Writers from Taiwan， made creative breakthroughs in exploring the visualization of literature and relations between video， text， and sound. Thus， the series became real literary films， a feat which few films accomplish. Xiao Hong saw writing as her life. How else could she complete literary works totaling a million words over only 10 years？ The Golden Era depicts more scenes of the writer smoking than writing. The only text appearing in the film is the phrase “Abandoned Child，”which Xiao writes on a blank piece of paper. Even her manuscripts seldom appear on screen. When Xiao Jun organizes letters from Xiao Hong in his later years， no close-up is given to the letters. The film has many scenes depicting Xiao Hong and other writers reading books， but they never even turn the pages. Of course， spectators are left wondering what they’re reading.

The Golden Era adopts the simplest and most common way to adapt literature to film： visualizing stories recorded on paper. But in my opinion， the text itself is most important. A literary film should not abandon the text. Literature and film are two drastically different media. The charm of film lies in visual effects， while the charm of literature is its proclivity to inspire imagination. However， such charm only transcends media when literature appears on the big screen in its original form – text. At that moment， watching a movie becomes multitasking as the spectators’ appreciation of motion pictures is put on hold while they are asked to read text. From beginning to end， The Golden Era doesn’t depict any text. One scene depicts Xiao writing the poem“Remember Once in a While” on a piece of paper while she is trapped in a hotel. Later， the piece of paper is found by Xiao Jun， who realizes her literary talent from it. However， the film never mentions a single thing about the poem’s content.

The Golden Era is faithful to words written by Xiao Hong， but fails to showcase the singularity of literature written in vernacular Chinese in the 1930s. Xiao Hong dared to break traditional rules of word usage， and formed an acute and accurate writing style. Even Lu Xun and Hu Shi， literary moguls of the era， spoke highly of Xiao’s writing style. In her works， landscapes and figures are injected with unrefined vitality. However， every sentence Xiao Hong speaks in the film hails from her autobiography， as the fictional world that Xiao created as well as her concern for land and ordinary people are neglected.

Many criticize The Golden Era for its plain plot construction and alienating actors who portray the lives of writers as mostly about dining and clothing. In my opinion， the fundamental defect of the film lies in its absence of “l(fā)iterature.” Despite the fact that it also features alienating acting， Center Stage， a film about film actress Yuen Ling-yuk directed by Stanley Kwan， moves viewers to tears. The intended purpose of The Golden Era seems to be narrating the history of contemporary Chinese literature， which aims far from the hearts of spectators. The film never depicts how the writer wrote. The audience only sees Xiao Hong as a starcrossed lover and an unfortunate woman who suffered from a poor physical condition and hardship – not as a great writer who cared tremendously about the public and devoted her life to exploration of the power of literature.