Cast: Zhu Xu, Zhou Ren-ying, Zhao Zhigang
Director: Wu Tianming
Producers: Mona Fong, Ho Titus
Screenplay: Wei Minglung
Cinematography: Mu Dayuan
Music: Zhao Jiping
U.S. Distributor: The Samuel Goldwyn Company
In Mandarin with subtitles
The King of Masks is melodrama of the highest order: manipulative and occasionally overacted yet deeply affecting despite its weaknesses. The film draws from a rich tradition of stories that have children melting the hearts of lonely, older men or women. Central Station, a Brazilian movie, earned a Best Foreign Film nomination in 1998 for a similar tale. Kolya won two years earlier in the same category. The chief advantage of The King of Masks, the latest film from Chinese director Wu Tianming, is not that it tells the story better than its many antecedents, but that the cultural backdrop - China in the 1930s (a dark time in the advent of the Communist Revolution) - lends depth and freshness to familiar themes.
Bian Lian Wang (Zhu Xu), the so-called King of Masks, is a locally renowned street performer whose magical ability to instantaneously switch between various facial coverings makes him a crowd favorite. A famous opera singer, Liang Sao Lang (Zhao Zhigang), is so impressed with the King's show that he asks to learn the old man's tricks. The King gently, but firmly, refuses, stating that "While my talents may be meager, only a son may inherit them." His family has a long tradition of passing their secrets from fathers to sons (no daughters). However, the King has no child - his only boy died at the age of 10, 21 years ago. So, to ensure that he has an heir, the King goes to a slave market where he buys Doggie (Zhou Ren-ying), an affable 8-year old. At first, the King is delighted by this new presence in his life - someone who readily calls him "grandpa." Then he learns he has been duped. The "boy" he purchased is actually a girl.
One of the film's key themes is that, when it comes to companionship, initiative, and courage, daughters can yield the same benefits as sons. For a Western audience, this may seem like an obvious message, but, in the patriarchal Chinese culture of the era, male children were greatly prized, while females were not (one can argue at great length about how true that remains today). And, while The King of Masks falls far short of a cry for sexual equality, it nevertheless seeks to demonstrate the social shortcomings of the simple yet painfully shortsighted ideal of not valuing girls. It is, in fact, an act of extreme bravery and loyalty on Doggie's part that precipitates the movie's resolution. Would a boy have done as much?
The emotional fulcrum of The King of Masks is the relationship between the caring Doggie and the crusty King. After learning that his charge isn't a boy, the King is initially cold and insensitive, but the dire nature of Doggie's circumstances convinces him that turning his back on her would be wrong (she has already been sold seven times). So he allows her to remain with him, provided that, instead of calling him "grandpa," she refers to him as "boss." Predictably, the longer the two remain together, the closer their bond becomes. Doggie is openly devoted to the King, and, although he will not admit it, he comes to love her. She eventually becomes part of the King's act, although, because she is not a male, he will not reveal his secrets to her.
Zhou Ren-ying, who plays Doggie, is a delightful find. Her performance is truly heartbreaking, and, on those occasions when she's weeping and crying out "Grandpa!", it's difficult to avoid developing a catch in the throat. She also demonstrates a remarkably flexible body - it's simply amazing to watch someone contort herself the way Zhou does. Meanwhile, Zhu Xu ably presents the King as a loner who is unprepared for the feelings generated by the presence of a child in his life. The third star of the film is a pet monkey who steals its share of scenes (and makes for a welcome change from the four-legged sidekick staple of the American film: the canine).
During its final act, The King of Masks resorts to shameless manipulation to give the audience an emotional catharsis. My preference is for a little more subtlety when it comes to melodrama, but the other elements of the movie, including the script and the production design, are solid, so it's not difficult to forgive Wu's tendency toward excess here. Indeed, many viewers will doubtless find this to be one of The King of Masks' strengths. It's also worth noting that, unlike a multitude of Chinese films released overseas in recent years, this one is not at the center of a controversy. While a host of movies to have emerged from China during the '90s have been political in nature (often overtly so, resulting in bans), The King of Masks is an exception. Despite being uniquely Chinese in many ways, the basic narrative has a universal appeal. The touching, human aspect of this story has the capacity to warm the hearts of all but the most cynical of movie-goers.
© 1999 James Berardinelli