Cultural barrier

Author: Zhang Huong
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Zhang Yimou's "Black Eight Minutes" in Athens. The brief eight minutes were equivalent to a 3,000-meter middle and long-distance race. However, Zhang Yimou's performance at the Olympics seemed to fall far short of expectations. After so much time of preparation, extensive hype and setup, and strict secrecy, what was presented to the public were still the predictable contents, inevitably giving the impression of someone putting on airs. Though just eight minutes long, it was riddled with flaws. It seemed that without the inspiration of the "Terracotta Army" or the "human wave" tactic, Director Zhang was at his wit's end. People still saw the familiar "Zhang-style" outfit: the awkwardly short qipaos, martial arts that lacked both softness and strength, and the overly flashy Peking opera warriors. And then there were those—good heavens, they still couldn't escape!—the famous dizzying red lanterns. The number of red lanterns even increased, making some people wonder if the Zhang family was in the lantern business. Internet users quickly began to criticize and mock. The audience, who had just harshly reviewed the film The Ten Faces of Treachery, fully embraced the spirit of "making hay while the sun shines" and cursed Director Zhang into the ground. Even traditional mainstream media, aside from some routine praise in news reports, also broke from their usual stance and joined in this "anti-Zhang chorus." The eight minutes of the closing ceremony in Athens became Zhang Yimou's "Black Eight Minutes." What was utterly shameful was the performance of that little girl, which inadvertently exposed the weaknesses of our national psychology. A seemingly innocent child, singing a streetwise ditty far out of sync with her age, was actually filled with fear. Coincidentally, the World Expo promotional poster also featured a young child as its main subject. A cute little boy, arms spread wide, as if to embrace a mint-shaped emblem suspended in the air. This flat poster couldn't tell if the child was trembling, but later TV interviews revealed he had indeed been scared to tears by the reporters. The child's performance turned out to be prophetic. In reality, as the hosts of the Olympics (or World Expo), we are like a flustered child: our intentions are to warmly welcome everyone, but we can't help but feel a bit intimidated. The so-called "mentality of a great nation" is nothing but "fond of dragons but fears them." When things get really big, we freeze. And the deliberate display of humility is merely a form of coquettish behavior. I have no intention of joining the massive "anti-Zhang chorus." To be honest, I have never paid much attention to Director Zhang's work, and my attendance at the Athens performance was purely accidental. But a performance meant to showcase the charm of Chinese culture to the world, only to face scathing criticism from domestic audiences, is something worth reflecting on. Zhang Yimou's hodgepodge of "Chinese elements" are like sesame seeds scattered on a large pancake—superficial and trivial, and the public sees right through it. Few Chinese people take Zhang Yimou's tricks seriously. The real serious issue isn't whether Zhang Yimou has collapsed or not, but whether the so-called national and local cultural spirit can ever be truly represented. Zhang Yimou's downfall is regrettable, but what needs questioning is: if it weren't for Zhang Yimou, but someone else, how would they have portrayed the "Chinese elements"? What we saw at the closing ceremony of the Athens Olympics was either Zhang Yimou's exhaustion or the already fragmented and disjointed state of the so-called "Chinese elements," making it impossible to present them as a cohesive whole. Over the years, people have been searching for localized cultural forms and expressions, seeking the space and ways in which our national culture can survive. Yet, this effort seems to be growing increasingly elusive. We see that the questionable cultural elements portrayed by Zhang Yimou are creating a fictional "truth," slowly shaping people's understanding of Chinese culture—just as "when the fake is made to seem real, the real is also made to seem fake." Further, we must ask: are we gradually losing our own culture? Faced with this culturally ambiguous "truth," we need a profound understanding and creative expression. To demand these of Zhang Yimou is truly too much. It seems that the cultural shortcomings reflected in Zhang Yimou are likely the fundamental flaws of our current culture. Just as Ah Q represents the Chinese national character, Zhang Yimou is the epitome of our current sick culture. However, one thing is certain: Zhang Yimou's three-pronged approach is more than enough to fool Westerners. After all, most of them have only seen it once. Moreover, all the opening and closing ceremony performances are just plays. If these so-called "Chinese elements" are real, then in fact, we only possess this culture on stage, in the sense of performance. They have nothing to do with our lives. It was actually the live TV commentator who unintentionally revealed the truth. In his commentary, he said: "Four years from now, we will all be actors." This seems to imply that we are merely actors on the grand stage of the Olympics. We are just performing an imagined "Chinese culture" and "Chinese life." When the music ends and the curtain falls, the Olympics, and the so-called "Chinese elements," will all leave us behind.