by Ariana Souzis
Imagine being sent to a labor camp for criticizing Nancy Dye. Or sent to solitary confinement for a comment you made about Bill Clinton one day over lunch. Picture this and you will be prepared for the stifling fear and oppression experienced by a young Chinese family in the highly acclaimed movie The Blue Kite.
Directed by Tian Zhungzhuang in 1993, this honest portrayal of life under Chairman Mao's regime in the '60s was considered too controversial for the Chinese public. Soon after its ban, Zhungzhuang was forbidden to ever make movies again. Such blatant examples of censorship urgently reminds us to become aware of our own responsibilities in fighting oppression, both abroad and in our own country.
The Blue Kite is the story of Tietou, a young boy growing up in Beijing. Narrated in retrospective, Tietou lovingly details the innocence and love of his young mother and father, Shushuan and Shaolong. They live a happy, normal life, as much as can be expected under the restrictive Communist laws.
Suddenly their lives are shattered when Shaolong, accused of propagating Rightist ideas, is sent away to a labor reform camp and soon dies, crushed by a tree. All around them friends and family are being threatened, deposed or arrested for their mild criticisms.
Among this breakdown, Shushuan struggles to maintain stability for her son. As Tietou grows older, his relationship with his mother becomes more strained and tense, as they both attempt to learn how to understand and accept one another.
The drama unfolds gently in this long, unhurried movie, leading to a bittersweet finale. Throughout it the various blue kites that Tietou keeps losing, and his father keeps promising to supply, symbolize the freedom that he is eternally seeking. But while this may be a powerful image, it was too sporadically presented to make a lasting impression on the viewer's mind.
The most interesting elements in the movie, especially for a Western viewer, are the examples of communist ideology intruding into all aspects of people's lives. A striking example is seen at the wedding ceremony of Shushuan and Shaolong, where they first bow to a picture of Chairman Mao and sing in praise of the "homeland" before being pronounced husband and wife.
Huge red banners spouting communist rhetoric abound in the library, the school, the streets; local comrades march around to all households, praising the new governmental policies. Private affairs do not exist, as is evidenced in a fight scene between the parents. As they argue, the camera shows only the children and women who stand outside their room, watching and discussing what's happening.
Zhungzhuang's use of camera technique cleverly reflects the public nature of everyday life. This insight into such a normally closed society is both educational and fascinating for Westerners &emdash; not only in the major differences between our culture and theirs, but, uncannily enough, the similarities.
The thought that our own supposed democracy, ruled as it is by technology, potentially could be (or, some contend, is) as manipulative and controlling as the rigidly oppressive Communist government, is more frightening than anything in The Blue Kite.
The movie begins to drag halfway through, where an implicit critique of the fascist nature of China is replaced by the melodrama of the increasing tension between Shushuan and Tietou. As skillful as the drama may be, as well acted as the move may by (with the exception of the child Tietou), the movie's main political attack is diluted.
The Blue Kite no longer appears to be that controversial. But the fact that it was so quickly censored by the Chinese government only reveals the extent of their totalitarian state. And learning to understand this, the precious commodity of freedom, is an important lesson to all of us, no matter where we come from.
