A classic Chinese folktale
about two snake sisters, White (Bok) and Green (Ching), their experiences
living alongside humans and White's doomed love affair with a naive
scholar, forms the basis for this dazzling period fantasy, one of
director Tsui Hark's grandest achievements in the genre to date. The
fable is one of the "Four Great Tales of China", so it is
fitting that each of "The Three Chinas" has contributed
an adaptation. In 1976, Mainland director Sha Dan created a Peking
Opera musical version called Duan qiao with Du Jinfang and
Shan Timing as the sisters, and Ye Shenglan as the male lead. In 1978,
Taiwanese directors Si Ma Ke and Chen Chi-hua produced another Mandarin
version, LOVE OF THE WHITE SNAKE (Xin bai she zhuan - "The
New White Snake Story"), with Brigitte Lin Ching-hsia as White,
Chin Chi-min as Green, and Charlie Chin Hsiang-lin as the object of
White's affections. Tsui's HK rendition is set in the Sung Dynasty,
and while the recreation of the period seems perfect from the structures
to the costumes, his use of color effects throughout (which harken
back to the work of the great Italian director Mario Bava) heralds
the close proximity of supernatural beings and forces.
White (Joey Wang Tsu-hsien) and Green
(Maggie Cheung Man-yuk) are able to assume human form after hundreds
of years of training. White, the older and more mature of the pair,
seeks to experience love and sets her sights on Hsui-xien (TEMPTATION
OF A MONK's Wu Hsin-kuo), a timid and repressed scholar. The two sisters
hold humans in the highest regard, using their powers to heal the
sick and divert raging flood waters, with the tacit approval of the
powerful monk Fa-hai (Zhao Wenzhou), who has devoted his life to hunting
down and vanquishing demons that roam the Earth in human guise. Green's
immaturity and inability to maintain her human body for extended periods
pose an increasing threat to both the sisters' safety and White's
relationship. When Hsui-xien accidentally sees Green in her true form,
he dies of fright, prompting White and Green to steal a precious herb
needed to bring him back from the dead. Their actions put them in
conflict with Fa-hai, who decides, in lieu of punishment, to have
Green try and seduce him as a test of his will power. When he succumbs
to human lust, he seeks revenge on the sisters, with his subsequent
actions having tragic consequences not only for the snakes, but for
the entire countryside.
While GREEN SNAKE shares some plot
components with the A CHINESE GHOST STORY series (in particular, a
sage and his disciples try to expose the non-humans' masquerade, and
a naive scholar as male protagonist), the extensive application of
Buddhist ideology makes this seem very fresh and imaginative when
compared to the majority of films produced during the period fantasy
craze. Sexuality has never played much of a role in Tsui's films,
presumably by design but possibly due to the restrictions HK censors
place on the Category II rating, being much more tolerant of violence
than eroticism. However, sex is right in the forefront here, from
White's desire to experience it and Green's jealous yearning to share
in anything her sister undergoes, to Fai-hai's desperate efforts to
suppress his base human urges. Oddly, despite all of these salacious
undercurrents, GREEN SNAKE has occasionally been faulted for being
emotionally aloof, though it clearly also displays the same sort of
playful romanticism found in Tsui's THE LOVERS, which also deals with
forbidden love, and ends on an equally sombre note.
Cheung is thoroughly engaging in
one of her most playful and provocative characterizations to date
and Wang gives an amusingly exaggerated caricature of the traditionally
obsequious Chinese wife, precisely the sort of "more human than
human" overcompensation you would expect from a creature craving
to be human. Zhao (who took over the Wong Fei-hung role from
Jet Li in Tsui's ONCE UPON A TIME IN CHINA series) gives an appropriately
severe performance, effectively capturing Fa-hai's rigid adherence
to his Buddhist doctrines and also the character's near complete failure
to empathize with the creatures he has coldly pledged to destroy.
The moral transformation he undergoes at the climax is a nice, contemporary
spin on the traditional infallibility of religious characters in this
genre. Taiwanese star Wu Hsin-kuo (whose name is presented in the
English credits as "Wu Kuo Chiu") is cast against type here
and, while competent, never seems to settle comfortably into his part,
being better suited to the sort of intense, character-driven roles
that originally brought him fame. The score by James Wong Jim and
Mark Lui Chung-tak (released on CD but long out-of-print) is a wonderful
amalgam of traditional instrumentation, contemporary ambience, and
South East Asian influences, and complements both the visuals and
the drama in highly satisfying fashion. The film was rushed through
post-production in order to make its release date and, as a result,
some of the digital and blue screen work is not up to par. However,
Tsui's artistry is not significantly compromised, and most of the
FX are so ambitious that either a gargantuan budget or top of the
line technology would have been required to present them with complete
verisimilitude. In spite of this shortcoming, there are moments here
(particularly the early sequence where Fa-hai is tempted by his desires,
which personify themselves as grotesque, naked humanoids that dance
around and taunt him) which rank among the most piquantly visual that
Tsui has ever staged.
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