“Flowers of Shanghai: When Opium Smoke Becomes Cinematic Poetry”
-By [taojieli.com], Cultural Observer*
In 1998, Taiwanese auteur Hou Hsiao-hsien crafted a cinematic artifact that continues to mesmerize global audiences – Flowers of Shanghai. This visually intoxicating adaptation of Han Ziyun’s 19th-century novel The Sing-Song Girls of Shanghai features Tony Leung Chiu-wai in a career-defining role that redefines historical drama. Unlike conventional period films, this masterpiece transforms brothel politics into a haunting meditation on colonialism, performative intimacy, and the economics of desire.
- The Architecture of Forbidden Spaces
Set entirely within four Shanghai courtesan houses during the 1890s, the film creates a self-contained universe where Qing Dynasty etiquette collides with Western imperialism. Director Hou rejects exterior shots to emphasize the suffocating elegance of these “flower rooms” – velvet-lined cages where courtesans negotiate freedom through strategic seduction.
The opening 9-minute tracking shot immediately establishes this claustrophobic grandeur. As the camera glides through opium haze, we witness British diplomats and Chinese merchants bartering over women like commodities. The meticulous choreography of teacups and silk handkerchiefs reveals more about power dynamics than any battle scene could. This approach draws parallels to Visconti’s The Leopard, where social rituals become political warfare.
- Tony Leung’s Silent Revolution
As comprador Wang Liansheng, Tony Leung delivers a masterclass in repressed masculinity. His character – a Cantonese bureaucrat mediating between British traders and local elites – embodies Hong Kong’s cultural duality decades before the colony’s handover.
Three revolutionary aspects define Leung’s performance:
- The Language of Gestures: With minimal dialogue, Leung communicates through physical rituals. His precise handling of opium pipes (learned from historical consultants) becomes a metaphor for controlling unstable situations.
- Colonial Ambiguity: Fluent in Shanghainese, Cantonese, and English, Wang Liansheng’s linguistic code-switching mirrors Hong Kong’s identity crisis.
- Cuckoldry as Social Commentary: The plotline where Wang’s courtesan mistress secretly funds a Peking opera lover (a scandalous cross-class affair) critiques patriarchal hypocrisy. Leung’s reaction – breaking teacups rather than confronting directly – epitomizes the impotence of colonial middlemen.
- The Aesthetics of Temporal Collapse
Cinematographer Mark Lee Ping-Bing’s amber-lit tableaux achieve what historian Jonathan Spence calls “the texture of remembered dreams.” The film’s 37 long takes (averaging 3.5 minutes each) dissolve chronological time, creating a floating world where:
- Candlelight flickers like fading dynasties
- Rotating banquet tables mirror cyclical exploitation
- Smoke patterns map emotional turbulence
Hou’s decision to shoot through semi-transparent curtains achieves a “veiled voyeurism” effect, positioning viewers as clients assessing human merchandise. This visual strategy influenced later works like The Grandmaster, where Wong Kar-wai similarly uses spatial constraints to explore repressed desires.
- Gender Economics in Post-Opium War China
Contrary to Western perceptions of brothels as sites of sexual exploitation, Flowers reveals them as sophisticated micro-economies. Top-tier “sing-song girls” like Huang Cuifeng (Michele Reis) operate like CEOs:
- Negotiating contracts with legal clauses
- Investing clients’ gifts into jewelry portfolios
- Training teenage “virgins” as retirement insurance
In one subversive scene, courtesan Shen Xiaohong (Michiko Hada) destroys her own bedroom to fake a suicide attempt, manipulating her patron into higher payments. These transactions, filmed with the tension of corporate takeovers, expose capitalism’s roots in emotional barter.
- The Legacy of Silent Resistance
While set in Shanghai’s International Settlement, the film resonates with Taiwan’s identity struggles. Hou’s crew reconstructed 1890s interiors in Taipei studios after being denied mainland filming permits, inadvertently creating a metaphor for cultural displacement.
The courtesans’ strategies mirror modern resistance:
- Linguistic Subversion: Using Wu dialect (then considered vulgar) as their primary language challenges Mandarin dominance.
- Archival Gaps: By omitting the novel’s male narrator, Hou centers marginalized female perspectives erased from official histories.
- Material Memory: Close-ups of hairpins and qipaos transform fashion into historical testimony.
Conclusion: A Mirror for Modern Alienation
More than a period piece, Flowers of Shanghai speaks to contemporary isolation in curated social spaces. Wang Liansheng’s failed connections – with lovers, colleagues, even his own identity – reflect our digital-age paradox: constant interaction breeding deeper loneliness.
As streaming platforms overflow with explosive action, Hou’s film dares us to find drama in a trembling teacup and revolution in a sigh. Tony Leung’s masterpiece performance reminds us that true power lies not in grand gestures, but in the quiet mastery of life’s unspoken rules.
-Flowers of Shanghai* (4K restored version) is available on Criterion Channel with comprehensive scholarly supplements. For deeper context, pair it with Eileen Chang’s Lust, Caution and Ang Lee’s commentary on Qing Dynasty social codes.
Key Original Insights:
- Analyzes brothels as corporate boardrooms of desire
- Positions Leung’s character as proto-Hong Kong identity metaphor
- Examines linguistic choices as political resistance
- Connects visual aesthetics to modern digital alienation
- Reinterprets cuckoldry plot as patriarchal critique