A glow hangs over Lou Ye’s “Summer Palace” like that of your best memories. Ostensibly a college coming of age story for a young girl from the country set against the back drop of late 80’s Tiananmen Square Beijing, the swimmy story and dreamlike images conjure more a feeling freedom than of oppression. I suppose this strikes just the right tone then, for something so subversively political as to get banned by the Chinese government. Still, the politics don’t enter until late in the game, and the bulk of Ye’s film is concerned with the ups and downs of Yu Hong (Hao Lei) and her relationships. From a first encounter before leaving for college to the semi-mature love of Zhou Wei yet more lovers, Yu stumbles as she navigates her way into womanhood.
The film is seen entirely through the lens of Yu Hong. As her love life begins to implode the student movement begins to explode. The ramping up of her emotions mirror the growing fervor with which each rally is engaged. With the arrival of her long forgotten first love, Xiao Jun, the film, like Yu Hong, begins to grow dizzy and impatient. It’s almost as if the writing is on the wall and everyone knows how these, seemingly innocent, protests will end. Even as the tension mounts the director keeps the police from view, maintaining a very closed world for his characters. Seen as abstract jeep lights, and heard as gun shots, before they are ever shown, the forces of the government emerge as other worldly beings. Totally out of place with the rest of the film.
Their political revolt is more a celebration of youth than anything else. The insular world created by Beijing University cannot stand up to the reality of Chinese social order and the Communist Party. At least this is what is implied by the film, though I feel much deeper roots lie in the edges of Ye‘s narrative, Yu Hong at least, is not actively seeking them.
Like the rest of China, Yu must go on, and this initial section is but a slice from her life. It makes up the most defining aspect of her character, but is just when you expect some kind of historical document to emerge from the script that it jumps about 10 years. Suddenly we find her in Wuhan, older, more stable, but still dreaming of her past love, Zhou Wei.
Much talk has been made about the film’s frank sex scenes. They lack both the erotic realism of something like Winterbottom’s “9 Songs”, and the soft focus bi-curiosity of Bertolucci’s “The Dreamers”. Instead Ye presents his scenes as real and tender encounters that break through the idea that sex is easy, or hard, or boring, or steamy. It just is, and Ye finds a way to show it to us in all its exciting banality.
What Summer Palace captures so perfectly is not social unrest, but college and the transition into adulthood. That time when the world is completely open, yet everything seems so clear and defined. We are right, they are wrong, I love him, He loves me and love is all we need. It’s all very Beatles. With the onset of Yu Hong’s late twenties, everything becomes a bit more clear as her life comes into focus. The film retains it’s dreamlike quality though as Hong’s thoughts drift constantly to her time in college. This time too, is stuck in our minds, as it Ye ensures that it’s glow filters our perception of what lies ahead. Summer Palace is an accomplished and ethereal film, even if the voice over can be too much at times.