This documentary, described by its makers as "the definitive film on traditional Chinese art and culture," was aired on the Public Broadcasting System in 1989. Although in many ways an effective description of that tradition, its shortcomings require that it be used with caution in an undergraduate classroom.
The film focuses on the National Palace Museum, utilizing that collection to examine the role of art, especially bronzes, painting, and calligraphy, in the traditional culture. The introduction outlines how a significant part of the Ch'ing imperial collection amassed by the Emperor Ch'ien-lung (r. 1736-95) came to be housed in Taipei. Interwoven with this recent history is a discussion of the origins of the collection in the eighteenth century illustrated with court paintings and portraits of the time. Two themes are central in tying this aspect of the presentation together: the Chinese preoccupation with their own past as a reflection of their nation's greatness and the role of the palace collection as a symbol of imperial legitimacy.
The transition to the main subject, the function of art in the traditional culture, is organized around Ch'ien-lung's admiration for and emulation of the scholar's life. This material is presented through a visually complex narrative in which footage of a wide variety of objects in the museum collection is combined with scenes of life in Taiwan to elucidate quoted texts or place the objects and traditional artistic practice in an actual contemporary setting. Vignettes of Wang Hsi-chih's (321-79) and Huang T'ing-chien's (1045-1105) calligraphic masterpieces are juxtaposed with scenes of a swan swimming and an oarsman rowing to illustrate the sources in nature from which these artists are said to have derived the inspiration for their writing styles. A more dramatic case occurs when ritual bronzes are introduced and their role in ancient culture is described; the camera then cuts quickly to a modern-day ritual service. The objects filmed range from literati paintings to the precious creations in miniature commissioned by Ch'ien-lung; only a few are photographed in their entirety, and virtually none are identified. The camera scans them, sometimes revolving around the three-dimensional examples. Interviews with painters, calligraphers, and wood carvers at work further enliven the narrative, and the use of two voices, one to read the main body of the text and the second to read well-chosen translations from historical sources, is also effective.
The strength of the film derives from its skilled integration of beautiful visual images with a generally intelligent text that makes many worthwhile observations on Chinese history and culture. There are also memorable scenes that make it valuable as a didactic tool: in one scene the camera suddenly shifts from a view of mist-filled mountains to a slow journey through Mi Yu-jen's Mountains in Clouds and Mist, and in others traditional arts are demonstrated, the handscroll format is explained, and a wide variety of Ch'ien-lung's treasures are presented.
The power of the film's images, however, cannot compensate for the occasional weaknesses of its narrative. In a glib oversimplification that has overtones of Western romanticism, Chinese artists are described as heroes. The colloquial also is over-used, and there are some outright mistakes. Errors include mispronunciation of the names Kuo Hsi, Shen Chou, and Wen T'ung and at least one poor translation choice in which the phrase wen-jen is equated with the term "Renaissance man." For art historians, there are other shortcomings. The description of Ni Tsan as an "eccentric genius" who refused an imperial appointment to office to become an exile and wanderer is not quite accurate because it fails to note that he was actually escaping from heavy taxes imposed on his extensive estate by the Mongol government. In an unintentionally ironic scene, a painting commonly referred to in English as A City of Cathay is slowly unrolled to illustrate how a handscroll is viewed in sections. It is impossible for any painting scholar not to recall that the original Sung version of this Ch'ing dynasty court copy of Chang Tse-tuan's Going Up the River for the Ch'ing-ming Festival is now in the Palace Museum in Peking.
The problems only begin here. The makers of this film assert that it is a documentary and, in concluding, disclaim any political intent and argue for the universality of Ch'ien-lung's collection as it represents Chinese art to the Chinese people and to the world. Nevertheless, for any informed viewer, the history of the conflicting claims of the National Palace Museum in Taipei and the Palace Museum in Peking to rightful ownership of the collection remains. The Republic of China's identity by its own definition is linked to its self-image as the bastion of traditional culture: on that basis it has insisted in the past on recognition as the true China. A film that supports this image must then be evaluated in political terms despite its disclaimer.
This film is recommended for use in introductory classes on Chinese history, art, and culture with an appropriate introduction. For more advanced classes in Chinese art history, however, it might create more problems than it solves.
