Love and Loyalty in China
Reflections on the Classic Film “Spring in a Small Town”
Spring in a Small Town (1948) is a film that almost no one in the West has heard of, yet it has beenhailed as one of the greatest Chinese films of all time. When I first watched it, I was immediately struck by the simplicity of the language. Anyone with even a rudimentary command of Chinese can follow most of the dialogue even without the subtitles. This reflects the fact that the film focuses on quotidian details of everyday life: going for a walk, commenting on the weather, making a bed. But in these details is a moving story with deep significance. (In its capacity to illuminate the profound via the trivial, the film is reminiscent of the work of the great Japanese director Yasujiro OZU.)
There are only five characters in the story. Liyan is the “Young Master” of the household. He is sick with some indeterminate heart problem, and perpetually irritable. Yuwen is his wife, the narrator of the story. She is strong, beautiful, and passionate. However, she feels trapped in her existence. As she says at one point, “I do not have the courage to die, and Liyan does not have the courage to live.” The other members of the household are the family’s servant, Lao Huang, and Liyan’s sister, who is usually referred to as Meimei. (This is really a title, “Younger Sister,” and not a name.) A fifth character soon arrives, throwing the house out of its entropy: Zhichen. He is the best friend of Liyan from childhood, but he does not realize until he arrives that Liyan’s wife is Yuwen, with whom he was in love before the war (and the disapproval of their families) drove them apart.
The simplicity of the film was apparently due in part to the fact that the studio was in financial trouble, but the result is a work driven by subtle performances and fine cinematography rather than elaborate sets, crowd shots, and special effects. One sequence is especially powerful at conveying the complexity of Yuwen and Zhichen’s emotions. The first night of Zhichen’s visit, Yuwen checks on their guest to make sure he is comfortable. Any host would do so, but this is the first time the two have been alone since he arrived. The camera lingers on Yuwen’s feet as she walks slowly, uncertainly to his room. She and Zhichen make inconsequential small talk, but their expressions and body language convey the strong emotions they are repressing.
Yuwen notes that he only has a light sheet on his bed, commenting, “It is cold tonight.” Zhichen replies — too quickly and also ambiguously — “I won’t be cold.” (『天冷呢』。『我不怕冷』。) Yuwen goes to get a blanket, and as she returns the camera again begins on her feet: this time she is almost running with excitement. As the camera moves up, we see that she has changed out of the cheongsam she had been wearing and into a Western-style skirt and sweater, mirroring Zhichen’s Western suit.
In the same scene, director FEI Mu consciously violates the “ 180-degree rule “ by doing a reverse cut. Skilled directors sometimes break this rule to create a feeling of uncertainty or disorientation. In this scene, the cut also emphasizes the inescapable sexual temptation that confronts them: we are either looking at the actors from the perspective of the bed, or looking at the actors with the bed against the wall behind them.
Anyone can enjoy the plot and performances of Spring in a Small Town. However, much of what makes this a truly great film will not be obvious to Western audiences, unless they are familiar with the historical context for the story. At the start of the 20th century, China made the painful transition from its last imperial dynasty to a modern government. However, soon after the government defeated the last of the warlords and established effective central control, Japan invaded (1937–1945), killing millions and occupying much of China.
Spring in a Small Town is set right after the end of World War II. The family of Liyan was once wealthy and successful under the Qing dynasty, but the mansion he has inherited is now run down and partially destroyed from years of warfare. Liyan always dresses in a traditional scholar’s gown, and is often seen reading books dating from the Qing dynasty. Stagnant and ill, he symbolizes China’s once-glorious past. His younger sister is young enough that she has a fresh perspective on life, and an air of vitality and innocence not shared by the other members of her household. She represents China’s potential for the future. Zhichen, the old friend, has become a doctor. He always wears Western-style clothing, and represents those Chinese of the May 4th Movement who saw China’s best hope in learning from the West. Yuwen embodies the dilemma that China faced in the early 20th century: be loyal to tradition (which, for all of its weaknesses, had its own kindness and dignity) or leave the past behind and go with the modern trends brought from the West. Finally, Lao Huang represents, I think, the masses of Chinese peasants and workers, passively waiting for someone to guide them.
Western viewers need an entry point for understanding the symbolism of the film. However, my account here is simplified, and makes the film seem one-dimensional when in fact it is complex and multi-layered. The characters are not cardboard cutouts (especially not Liyan, Yuwen, and Zhichen). Their emotions and the tensions they must live through are complex and vivid. In the end, the film gives us not so much a pat political message as a testament to the complexity and nobility of human motivations.
The film did not stand out when it was originally released. This is not surprising, given that the civil war between the Communists and Nationalists reignited after the Japanese were defeated. Once the Communists took control of the Mainland, a film like this could only seem decadent and bourgeois. The director, Fei Mu, died tragically young in 1951, and was largely forgotten. It was only after the end of the Cultural Revolution and the beginning of China’s new openness to the West that the Chinese film community rediscovered Spring in a Small Town, and in 2005 it was voted the greatest Chinese film of all time by the Hong Kong Film Critics Association.
There is also a remake of the film, Springtime in a Small Town (2002), but it fails to capture the magic of the original film. Divorce and extramarital affairs are now common in China, so it is difficult for contemporary actors and directors (despite their obvious talents) to recreate convincingly the painful dilemmas that were all too real for people in 1948.
The Chinese title of this film is Xiǎo Chéng zhī Chūn 小城之春 (Small City’s Spring). There are several version of it available for viewing. The best is the 2015 DVD version that was restored by the British Film Institute. The stills in this article are taken from one of several Youtube versions of the restored cut. The complete dialogue in English is available here. For reasons that elude me, there is also a colorized version available on Youtube.
Spring in a Small Town is one of those great works of art that is rooted firmly in its time yet expresses emotions that humans will recognize in any time or place. Please watch it.
Originally published at https://medium.com/@bryanvannorden_14478/ on December 9, 2020.
