Before the rigors of “rehab” acquired an American cachet and a therapeutic gold standard associated with privilege and the name Betty Ford, the revolutionary Chinese Communist government instituted mass-scale campaigns of “re-education” and “rehabilitation” aimed at rewiring the thinking of an entire population, particularly those with lifestyles perceived as bourgeois, decadent, intellectual, or otherwise recalcitrant. That’s where Blush begins, in China during the heady months of 1949 during which the new Communist regime moves to boldly erect a new social order and eradicate harmful vestiges of the past. As the movie opens, the prostitutes of the Red Happiness Inn, a brothel on the outskirts of Shanghai, are being herded out of their longtime home and workplace and shipped off for re-education and rehabilitation. Our experience as viewers suddenly plopped into this scene of confusion is likely to echo that of the women as they trundle at rifle-point into the unknown. Quickly, the story comes to focus on two women, Qiuyi (Wang Ki) and Xiao’e (He Saifei), best friends from the brothel whose paths are now about to diverge. Although Xiao’e is too timid to follow, Qiuyi slips out a window and beats a hasty escape from the reassignment center. She turns to her favorite client and love Lao Pu (Wang Zhiwen), who takes her into her household where they establish a comfortable little love nest. Xiao’e and the other women become laborers in a silk factory and are dutifully re-educated about the sordid nature of their past and their place as cogs in the new society. However, Blush avoids becoming a simple comparative study of the different avenues that each woman’s life takes by incorporating melodramatic flourishes that keep the narrative fresh and unpredictable. Eventually, Lao Pu’s indignant mother forces Qiuyi from the household and, proud woman that she is, Qiuyi never tells her lover that she is pregnant. She seeks refuge in a Buddhist nunnery and shaves her head and adopts all the outward signs of devotion, but is expelled when the others discover her pregnancy and doubt her convictions. She is also spurned by family members who have no room for her in their households, yet she also rejects the repentant Lao Pu’s offer of marriage. Xiao’e rankles under the tedium of forced labor and eventually develops a deep friendship with Lao Pu which evolves into marriage. By this point, he too, has become a laborer stripped of all class privilege and wealth. With a baby and the strapped lifestyle, Lao Pu and Xiao’e marriage quickly degenerates into a bed of hostility and fighting. Lao Pu, who recognizes that he still loves Qiuyi (who has now settled into a marriage of convenience), ultimately takes drastic measures to “right” the situation, the consequences of which bring the women together once more. Based on a novel by Su Tong (also the author of Raise the Red Lantern), Blush never quite equals the majestic storytelling of Red Lantern’s film adaptation. Though captivating to look at, too much of the action in Blush occurs off-screen and in voiceover narration. Though director and co-writer Li Shaohong’s film resists blame and finger-pointing, she manages to create a remarkably human story set against a non-judgmental historical background. If, at times, the structure of the story feels too distilled and remote, it makes up for it with its finely nuanced performances and rich visual textures.
This article appears in December 6 • 1996 (Cover).
