China, 1935
Directed by Cai Chusheng
With Ruan Lingyu (Wei Ming), Tang Tianxiu (Wei Ming’s sister), Chen Sujuan (Wei Ming’s daughter), Wang Naidong (Dr. Wang), Wang Moqiu (Mrs. Wang), Zheng Junli (Yu Haichou), Qiu Yiwei (the publisher), Gu Menghu (Qi Weide), Xu Yin (Li Aying), Fang Lianying (the old landlady)
On the face of it, Wei Ming is a new woman for the new China tentatively emerging among the troubles of the 1930s, two decades after the collapse of the Empire. The heroine of “Xin nuxing – New Women” is a young, educated and independent woman trying to enjoy life in Shanghai: she lives in a decent apartment alone, teaches music in a private high school, and writes. She is in fact becoming successful in her writing career, with short stories published in a big newspaper and her first novel accepted by a publisher, although the assistant publisher who clinched the deal, Yu Haichou, is not quite satisfied with the way the outcome was reached – in a foretelling flashback, it appears the publisher was not keen on buying the manuscript but changed his mind when he found in his assistant’s papers that the author was a young female beauty. Never mind: Wei Ming is happy – and ready to fall in love with the quiet young Yu Haichou.
But it turns out a wealthy businessman, Dr. Wang, is taken with her, and for quite a time. He insists on going out with her, but she resists: she dislikes him utterly, and eventually kicks him off her life – so she hopes. In fact she has sparked a disaster that would ultimately destroys her.
The narrative reels off typical melodramatic situations going relentlessly and immoderately from bad to worse, a harrowing, depressing downward spiral applying a dramatic screenplay logic. So Wei Ming loses her job because of the shenanigans of Dr. Wang, who is a trustee of the board of her high school. Money soon lacks and her piano is repossessed. At this worst of the times, her sister decides to come to Shanghai to get help, accompanied by Wei Ming’s daughter who was born out of and illegitimate and scandalous affair. The child turns out to be badly sick, needing a spell in hospital the women cannot afford. Prodded by her old landlady, Wei Ming tries to work at a high-end, fashionable bordello, but her first client is Dr. Wang. That means more bitter words, more fighting, more scandal. Once again humiliated, Dr. Wang slanders Wei Ming, using the media and the wickedness of the editor who published her short stories but who has been roundly dismissed when he tried to flirt with her, Qi Weide. The child eventually dies: out of despair Wei Ming commits suicide. She dies too, even as she has decided to cling to life in a last-minute attempt to get hold of herself and muster courage to deal with life, and while the scandal contrived by the editor and the businessman is spreading around the city.
The new woman actually cannot escape the fate of women from the past. Her modern allure, her career successes, her decent life prove to be a veneer; Wei Ming, like countless women before her, is still trapped by the demands and the power of a patriarchal mindset. Men can easily crush her, still viewing her as a sexual entertainment and property. Through looks and behaviors, they are grimly depicted as birds of prey, with a sarcastic touch: they are always ridiculously preening themselves, fixing their hair or necktie, outrageously confident of their masculinity, overweening fellows feeling entitled to take on her body (the most spectacular moment comes when in her apartment Qi Weide tries to seduce Wei Ming; mirrors reveal his design, highlighting the vanity and the brutality of the man and foretell the troublles Wei Ming will face both on the short term and on the longer term).
The worst aspect of Wei Ming’s plight is that fellow women usually are no help, quite the contrary. The principal of the high school, also an independent and successful career woman, would rather let her down that loses the money of a trustee. Under the pressure of a pimp she knows well, the old landlady who has been so kind and helpful does accept to convince Wei Ming to be a call girl. And Mrs. Wang, who has been pointedly presented as a good childhood friend of hers, would rather blame her husband for getting bewitched by a “vixen” rather than trusting and supporting Wei Ming. Women seem to accept without reservation or doubt or qualm the lecherous and oppressive ways of men.
Yet there is an exception: Li Aying, another neighbor of Wei Ming. Coming from a working-class background she is also a music teacher, giving singing lessons to young women working in a factory. She is brash and outspoken, proud of her job and her skills at composing songs, a strong woman of sorts. She readily helps Wang Mei after she has humbled herself at the brothel, and fiercely exchanges blows with Dr. Wang (what a hectic, dynamic sequence, with dramatic Dutch angles and close-ups). She would cheer up her friend as she lies in a hospital bed; it is too late in fact to save Wei Ming’s soul, but her death inspires Li Aying to write a vibrant tribute that is performed over the last images.
Those images feature other working-class ladies. Even as it grapples with the social and moral tragedy of Wei Ming, the film conveys a broader picture of Shanghai and the social life of the metropolis as capitalism and modernity bring about changes. Clocks, watches and sirens crop up: time matters, time is money, time rules ruthlessly lives. In a close-up, the hands of a clock let pictures roll in: on a Saturday afternoon, images of wealthy people having fun in dancing halls alternate with images of workers toiling on machine, creating the wealth others so quickly spend on trivial pastime. As time runs out for Wei Ming’s happiness, the film exposes the gap between the social classes, emphasizing the plight but also the weight and influence of the working-class people, in keeping with other Chinese films of the 1930s which could be safely labeled leftist; but “Xin nuxing – New Women” is even bolder, as it clearly suggests the working-class women are the best placed to shake up the patriarchal society and that future belongs to their struggles the film clearly hopes would be victorious. Supporters of the Communist Party should have liked it, but how the censors of the ruling Guomindang have accepted such a politicized, withering melodrama puzzles.
The urgency and the anger running through the story may be partly explained by a tragedy that hit closer at home the Chinese movie business. Months earlier, leading actress Ai Xia killed herself, as her painful private life became the staple of the newspapers. The unpalatable character of Qi Weide is a direct attack on the nefarious power of the press, another aspect of modernity that proves a tough challenge for women. Star system is not just a reward, but also filled with dangers. How women can get respect and support even as their independence and competence should shelter them from vicious and patronizing attitudes is the question that shapes the narrative, and stokes the poignancy of the lead character’s fate. Ruan Lingyu puts on strident, emotional, mind-blowing performance; but the film is not just another stunning display of her talent; it proves to be her penultimate work, as she will also kill herself a few weeks later, leaving a note claiming, “Gossip is a fearful thing”.
This is still a movie industry in technical transition: sounds and music were added in postproduction, plus dubbed dialogues, though not every uttered word seems to be dubbed and intertitles are still heavily used, so the feature is not really a true talkie; it is somehow clumsy, with outré performances typical of the silent era. But it is above all deliberately spectacular and excessive in its visual style, shaped by a stunning flair and dynamic editing that vividly, audaciously conveys feelings and memories (thanks to superimposition, matte shots, or split screens). This is a decidedly unsubtle, aggressive narration that befits an unyielding, blistering point of view on the flaws of the modern China.