Title:Green Snake (Ching Se) By: Tsui Hark Released by: Film Workshop Released on: 1993 Rating (out of 10): 10 Date: 03/20/2002
Maggie Cheung, Joey Wong
Tsui Hark's Green Snake
Hong Kong movie super-producer and film visionary Tsui Hark (A Chinese Ghost Story, A Better Tomorrow [producer]) has long been known to exert quite a bit of control over his productions—continually giving young directors a shot to break into the business, but also having a distinct idea concerning how he wants the films to look (sometimes going as far as to re-shoot certain scenes himself). However, Tsui is more than just a producer who likes to get involved with the films he’s producing—he also went to the University of Texas’ film school where he learned the art of filmmaking. Equipped with this knowledge, Tsui occasionally directs some of his own films; including the one we’re about to discuss the sumptuously mesmerizing Green Snake.
The film, which is based on Lillian Lee’s famous novel Green Snake (which was based on a famous folk tale called Madam White Snake), tells a simple tale two snake sisters—Green (Maggie Cheung: Heroic Trio) and Sou Ching (Joey Wong: A Chinese Ghost Story). Sou Ching and Green have spent the last 1,500 years working to evolve into humans (Sou Ching has spent 1,000 years training, Green 500), which they do, as the film opens, thanks to some magic.
Now that they’re essentially flesh and blood (well, Sou Ching is, anyway—Green doesn’t have as much training and is just as happy to slither about in half-human form eating bugs) they set out to discover what it is like to feel human emotions—most prominently, desire. Sou Ching sets her sights on the scholarly Hsui Xien (Wu Hsin-Kuo: Rock and Roll Cop, Temptation of a Monk), Green on the seemingly superhuman Buddhist monk Fa-Hai (Zhao Wen Zhou: Fong Sai Yuk, The Blade). Hsui is no match for the beguiling charms of Sou Ching (nor even the charms of Green, who seduces him at one point in order to experience physical passion firsthand). Fa-hai is a tougher nut to crack, with his pious sense of self-righteousness, but eventually, even he succumbs to the feminine wiles of Green (after an erotically charged stand-off scene where Fa-hai meditates while Green slithers about him seductively in a pool of water, wrapping herself in her own snake tail).
However, Fa-hai is a bit of a zealot who has allowed the superpowers that Buddha has blessed him with to cloud his judgment, turning him into a hypocritical fanatic. Fa-hai looks down on everyone around him—humans, who he views with contempt, and any of the critters training to evolve to human form. Since he fears the repercussions of the snake sisters mating with human men, he decides that he must capture and kill them—which leads to a climactic (if a bit disjointed and overlong) showdown.
Simply put, this film works flawlessly on almost every level—it truly is an enchanting film viewing experience, and it stands head and shoulders above many of the other period piece fantasy dramas that the Hong Kong film scene has produced over the last decade and a half.
Tsui, cinematographer Ko Chiu-Lam, and art director Bill Lui have combined forces to create one of the most visually arresting film worlds of recent memory. Using a soft-toned pastel-tinged palette, they create a fantasy land that manages to both look vaguely reminiscent of the Southern Sung Dynasty time period it’s supposed to portray yet strangely surreal and timeless as well. The soft lighting of the sister’s backyard pond, with pink flowers floating serenely on the surface, or the diaphanous green veil that floats slowly down a small river are just two examples of the simple, yet arresting imagery that these men create.
Maggie Cheung and Joey Wong are fantastic as the snake sisters. Both women are not only incredibly attractive, but each turns in a solid acting performance as well. Cheung’s character is the more fun of the two—the younger, less staid, Green isn’t entirely sure she wants to be human, and as such provides many of the film’s lighter moments (like when she flicks her long tongue to catch a nearby fly, or when she tries desperately to cry in order to prove her humanity). Still, Joey Wong’s performance is equally impressive, if a bit more serious in its approach. Both of these women work together flawlessly, creating both the feeling/illusion of sisterhood and filling the film with an erotic vibe heretofore unseen in Tsui’s work (particularly in the scene where they become human, each one nuzzling the other in the torrential downpour, and in a scene where they bathe together). Neither one does any nude scenes in the film, but the erotic vibe comes through loud and clear anyway—which is real testament to both these actresses ability.
Green Snake also features an impressive score. The film utilizes some Indian music in one bellydance sequence, some canto-pop, and a really somber, yet ethereal theme song that is probably one of the better tracks I’ve heard in a Hong Kong film.
Yet, for all its lighthearted nature, the film does actually manage to weave together a few themes—most notably one concerning the dangerous allure of religious dogma and piety and how the ego boost of being one of Buddha’s chosen can ultimately cloud your judgment to the point where you become what you were so opposed to. Still, even with these kind of moral issues explored in the narrative, the film really exists as entertainment—the thematic material only serves to add one more dimension to an already rich movie and shouldn’t hinder your enjoyment if you’re looking solely for entertainment.
Of course, no film is perfect—and Green Snake is no exception. The film has two flaws, basically—the first is the ending, which features a climactic showdown between the snake sisters and Fa-hai at the Golden Temple. Some of the imagery here is fantastic and completely over the top (the sisters raise flood waters to crash into the mountain temple—Fa-hai counters by roping the mountain up and lifting it above the waters), but the scene drags on for a bit too long. Couple this with the way Tsui has cut together the scenes (the action eventually shifts between events happening inside the temple and out) and you get a sequence that feels more than a bit disjointed in terms of its flow, and one that carries on for longer than it should before resolving itself in a way that seemed fairly obvious, but fit with the rest of the film.
The other glaring problem are the special FX. Granted, Hong Kong films are produced for a fraction of the budget of a cheap Hollywood film, but they really cut corners here and it shows. The worst of the FX shots centers around Green returning to snake form at two different points in the narrative—she becomes a giant snake, but the snake is so rubbery, so hokey, that it’s completely absurd. I’m sure it was the best they could do—but perhaps they should have taken a different approach, because the effect is simply terrible.
However, these two flaws aren’t likely to detract from your overall enjoyment of Green Snake. Simply put, this is one of the most intriguing Hong Kong period fantasy films. Tsui Hark’s assured direction, the production design, cinematography, and the completely beguiling performances from Joey Wong and Maggie Cheung make this one a classic. If you dug Ronny Yu’s The Bride with White Hair or the Tsui Hark produced Chinese Ghost Story films, then Green Snake should more than entertain you.
