Blush

Shanghai. 1949. As the Communists close down the ironically named brothel "The Red Happiness Inn," you can almost hear the anachronistic voice of Don Meredith singing "turn out the (red) lights, the (Communist) party's…just beginning!" Director Li Shaohong's Blush follows the (mis)fortunes of a pair of former Red Happiness prostitute friends: Quiyi (Wang Ji), a proud, disdainful woman who says "uh-uh" to a textile worker's party sweatshop, shacking up instead with a wealthy trick named Lao Pu (Wang Zhiwen); and Xaio'e (He Saifai), a skittish, emotionally unstable woman who's constitutional unsuitability for factory workhorse life drives her to attempt suicide. When Lao Pu's assets are frozen and his unhappy mother trims the frills, Quiyi finds herself at the doorstep of a Buddhist monastery, where she takes refuge until the nuns notice that she's brought company. Tossed into the streets, Quiyi loses the baby. Meanwhile, Xaio'e finds a welcome new friend in the now lovelorn Lao Pu, the ill-fated couple marry, and the film methodically traces the dissolution of all three character's lives. If any of this sounds remotely like an Asian tricked-out version of the American Midday Mainstay--the soap opera--it should: scratch the pretty surface of this fitfully engaging melodrama, and you'll find the most common theme in all of contemporary Chinese cinema--the love triangle. The difference, however, is that films such as Zhang Yimou's Raise the Red Lantern or Chen Kaige's Farewell My Concubine are both more narratively compelling and cinematically grand. Winner of a Silver Bear Award at the 1995 Berlin Film Festival, Blush is an optional purchase. (R. Pitman)