The Goddess.

Review #1786: The Goddess.

Cast: 

Ruan Lingyu (The "Goddess"), Zhang Zhizhi ("Boss" Zhang), Lai Hang (The Son), and Li Junpan (The Principal) Written and Directed by Wu Yonggang.

Review: 

"When I first set out to write about the goddesses, I wished to show more of their real lives, but circumstances would not permit me to do so."

Undoubtedly, there are quite a few stories to feature in the cinema of China (one that saw its first film made there in 1905), particularly with its golden age, for which the 1930s is generally considered the prime era. Silent and sound films both came out in this era, and it was the "progressive" features of that era that attracted the most popularity, ones that emphasized class struggles (of course, the invasion of the country by Japan in 1937 would put an end into the era). Yonggang Wu was born in Shanghai in 1907. He had gotten into film as an art director and costume design before he made his first film with this one, which he also wrote the script for. He would work for over half a century in film for various companies in China such as the Lianhua Film Company. Of course, one can't forget about Ruan Lingyu, whose star performance here ended up being one of her defining roles. She had been an actress since 1927 (at the age of 17). In her eight years of acting, she became a well-noted film star in the country. However, this was also her penultimate film before her death at the age of 24, owing to struggles in her personal life that led to suicide (her funeral ended up being wildly covered by her fans, while Center Stage (1991) covered her life to the curious interest of many audiences in China and beyond).  

It is responsibility that drives the film when it comes to making a movie involving self-sacrifice. There had been quite a few movies involving a lead character striving to make a better life for their offspring (such as say, Stella Dallas, for example), but I'm sure most folks would agree that the movie does well in wringing interest in a subject matter that isn't exploited in the way one might see from a lesser filmmaker (or standards); of course, I'm sure most of you can guess that the title actually has a double meaning in both occupation and in protection. In other words: it doesn't go for straight pity, instead providing perspective on the suffering that comes in the life of both adult and child without needing to provide an easy solution (granted, it explores a bit of the social cause of said profession through one character, but still). At any rate, it has quite the emotional appeal to make its 85-minute run-time all the more worth seeing, owing to Lingyu first and foremost. She plays a tender hand to vulnerability with the right sense of timing and patience that does everything needed to generate a warm and loving presence that the film needs to shine with all the poignant moments needed, whether when paired against Zhang or with Lai. The film might not have any obvious answers to consider by its climax, but its gritty nature and general tone make a worthy winner. Ultimately, it isn't hard to see why this serves as one of the key achievements of Chinese cinema. In terms of silent films, it also ranks well pretty well on that scale, wrangling in a curious drama with a carefully confined cast with one shining light and an adept director making their first mark in cinema.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: My Man Godfrey (1936).