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Peel the Onion|The Eight Hundred: How China's biggest blockbuster put humanism above patriotism

The Eight Hundred (Beijing Diqi Yinxiang Entertainment)

By J.B.Browne

So let's just get this out of the way: The Eight Hundred (八佰)—the 2020 Chinese historical-emotional war drama directed and co-written by Guan Hu—is one of the best war movies ever made. A serendipitous happenstance because Hong Kong venues recently started screening it at the end of October for the first time. If that wasn't enough, a double stroke of luck—the entire film was uploaded in full HD around the same time. Seeing as The Eight Hundred sets a new standard for epic production values in Chinese cinema, you have no excuse not to see it.

Watch the trailer:

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While most of the world's cinemas wrestle with ongoing lockdowns, China's 70,000 plus screens have been operating since early August. Home-made The Eight Hundred—produced by Huayi Brothers, Tencent Pictures, Beijing Enlight Media, and Alibaba Pictures—is proof that China's box office is no longer tethered to the Hollywood blockbuster for bums on seats. Just three weeks ago, China surpassed the US for ticket sales for the first time as the world's biggest box office, achieving $1.98b for 2020. The Eight Hundred is dominating the worldwide box office and currently tops the list with $461m. Technically superb, proudly sentimental, and unabashedly heroic like all good war movies, The Eight Hundred is an emotional drama that tugs the heartstrings. It's at once as riveting and innovative as the beach-landing scene in Saving Private Ryan but with the technical special effects prowess of a modern masterpiece like Dunkirk.

The film is based on the true story of The Battle of Shanghai, where the ill-equipped 88th Division of the National Revolutionary Army (NRA), led by Generalissimo of Nationalist China Chiang Kai-shek, launch a spirited defense of the Sihang Warehouse from the encroaching Imperial Japanese Army (IJA). The film's lush production spanned more than three years, including building an exact to-scale replica of the concrete warehouse riverside structure. As the 3rd Imperial Japanese Division of 20,000 troops close in on the 452-odd motley crew of officers and soldiers, an epic Alamo-type battle ensues for four days and nights from October 26 to November 1, 1937. The action plays out in full view of Chinese civilians and the ex-pat Americans and Europeans living in the exempted concessionary zones across the Su Zhou River. The battle's decisive third day focuses on lengthy sequences as the Japanese unleash a vicious aerial attack on Chinese soldiers on the warehouse roof. Thousands witness the fighting from across the river, but millions more follow the daily reportage via international news agencies.

The lavish Shanghai set that took 18 months to build. (Trinity Film)

It would be remiss not to mention the film's success without the controversial gust of wind following in its globetrotting wake. If you've been curious about the movie but suspicious or even fearful of exposing yourself to CCP film interference, well, you wouldn't be entirely wrong. Western reviews of Chinese mainland films, especially films about 20th-century historical events, are often patronizing, displaying skin-thin awareness of Chinese history with more than an air of gnawing moral superiority. Consequently, some reviews end up focusing on the simulacra of a writer's cafe ideology gleaned, of course, from equally biased corporate media. Instead, they fuss and focus on blatant Chinese censorship yet find themselves burrowing furiously under the delusion that the Western entertainment industry is free of ideology itself. For example, in one Guardian article, the writer suggests that the international success of The Wandering Earth in 2019 was because of its special effects, which "relied on western expertise." 

True, the film did suffer several setbacks, having been pulled from a film festival for further censoring by the state. Initially set to premiere on June 15, 2019, during the prestigious opening slot of the Shanghai International Film Festival, it was then mysteriously pushed back to July 5. The reason, "consultation between the production team and other entities," according to Variety. A further and more prolonged delay took the release back over a year to August 21, 2020, nationwide in China, and is, by those who attended initial screenings, roughly 13 minutes shorter.

While criticizing censorship by finger-wagging about perceived notions of "free speech" is admirable, if not woozily condescending, a film like this needs evaluation in light of its proper historical context. Firstly, it's very un-CCP propaganda to have a war epic on this scale that focuses on its enemies, the NRA. It just doesn't make sense the film would be recut or censored to dull this fact—this is the story. And yes, there are some embellished or enhanced parts, like in any historical film. But this is not a CCP propaganda film with terrible choreography, grossly exaggerated or wildly revisionist, jarringly cut in smoke-filled government editing suites. Neither is it overtly anti-Japanese nor anti-nationalist in sentiment. In one pre-battle-climax, Lieutenant Colonel Xie Jinyuan rides out on a white horse to meet IJA General Iwane Matsui, who rides a black horse. Both, as men of war, explain their "locked" predicaments. No sympathy, no judgment, just facts.

 

Over the bridge into history (Beijing Diqi Yinxiang Entertainment)

 

By the end of the film, The Red Army is nowhere to be seen because, in reality, they've scuttled away from one of the most critical battles of the war, leaving a group that would come to be known as the 800 Heroes (八百壮士)—heroes under Kuomintang command, enemies of the CCP—to do the heavy lifting. In this way, the film distinguishes patriotism from nationalism, rejecting the zero-sum game of good vs. evil. The film also challenges the notion that "The 800" succeeds in representing a sort of universal humanism, perhaps as a critique of patriotism. Its narratives—the national narrative, the narrative of camaraderie, the humanism narrative, and the narrative of the enemy—pull in different directions, illustrating the challenge of representing the horrors of warfare without reproducing the very dualities Guan Hu is attempting to deconstruct. Something is touching about this ragtag bunch of soldiers sacrificing life and limb for a cause they eventually lost. But for the Chinese civilization, they won. That's not propaganda; it's a fact.

 

 

As he would refer himself, J.B. Browne is a half "foreign devil" living with anxiety relieved by purchase. HK-born Writer/Musician/Tinkerer.

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