2026/05/24

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Taiwan Review

The Wheel of Life rolls three times-And fate grips its playthings

September 01, 1983
The Goddess of Fury spins the Wheel of Life, and so begins a cinema tri­logy-three compositions, each in one sense complete, but having close rela­tions with one another. Three of the country's top senior directors- King Hu, Lee Hsing, and Pai Ching-jui—joined hands to create the film.

Part I of the Wheel is set against the background of the Ming Dynasty, which reigned from the 14th to the 17th Centu­ries. In the episode, the court employs two notorious troupes, Ching Yi Wei (lit­erally, guard in embroidered garments) and Tung Chang (factory of the east). Lu Cheng-yi is one of the special agents from the troupes, a fencing expert and though of a weird disposition, with a mind keener than an eagle's scream.

One day he" accepts a mission to escort Lady Han Hsueh-mei, daughter of a frontier garrison commander, to the court to marry the commander of the Ching Yi Wei troupe. The Lady decides to use the "Dagger from a Fish's Intestines," a magical family heirloom, to as­sassinate her intended husband.

The plot is at once discovered by the keen Lu Cheng-yi who, awe-struck by the Lady's beauty, conspires to take over the troops commanded by her father. He decides not to bring her to the court, and forces her to travel to the mountains.

It is revealed that the Lady is actually engaged to young Feng Jui, leader of a righteous army fighting against the court troupes. Blind to the Lady's determina­tion to sacrifice her life for his righteous cause, Feng follows the trail of the Lady and her kidnapper. However, outshone in combat by the great fencer Lu Cheng­-yi, he fails time and again to rescue her, and is even held at sword's point by her abductor.

The Lady has no choice but to follow Lu to a mountaintop to seek his master teacher, Lu Tze-cheng. The aged master is wanted by the court; 50,000 teals of gold is offered for him dead, double that alive, because he is suspected by the court of leading the rebellious forces. With his quick mind, the old master at once determines that Lu wants his head for the gold and intends to seize power from the Lady's father. He advises the Lady to marry Lu, and offers Lu his own head and a name list of the righteous forces as her dowery. Not realizing it is a trick, Lu starts to browse through the name list, which is sprinkled with poison­ous powder on almost every page. Lu is blinded when he rubs his eyes. But as the Lady attempts desperately to escape, Feng Jui shows up again, and they call each other's names loudly, betraying their whereabouts. Driven into a dead corner, the Lady throws the heirloom dagger at Lu, accidentally killing her lover. Meanwhile, Lu casts his swords at the Lady as he falls over the c1iff. The ending freezes three faces in agony.

The wheel keeps spinning. The trio meets again three centuries later, at the beginning of the Republic. This time, it is in a "pear garden" -another name for a Peking opera troupe. The Lady Meng Hua-ling is now prima donna of the troupe, and the Ching Yi Wei special agent is her father's apprentice. Since her father died when she was only one year old, the prima donna has been raised by the apprentice, now leader of the troupe.

It occurs that the troupe has stopped by a small town. Ticket sales are so poor that the troupe has had to pawn its cos­tumes. Noticing that they are bogged down in a quagmire, an inn keeper sug­gests that they go to see Ma Ching-pai, a tycoon who loves to do good to others.

When Hua-ling and the troupe leader go to see Ma, the three feel as if they have seen each other before. Hua-ling and Ma fall in love at first sight. They feel strongly that they are fated for each other. From then on, Ma goes to see Hua-ling's performance every night. One night after the show, the couple sets out to tour the town in a carriage.

"Did you go to theaters in the past?" asks Hua-ling.

"To tell the truth, I have never watched an entire play," answers Ma.

"Why then, have you come to see our performance for the past three nights?"

"I will keep on watching as long as you play the role."

"Until the day I leave?"

"That is not enough. We must have met in a previous life." "Then you can watch my perfor­mances until I grow old and die.... "

Sealing Hua-ling's lips with his fingers: "Don't say that. It is inauspicious."

Thus is foreshadowed the tragic fate awaiting them.

Half a month later, Ma invites the troupe to his home for a feast. He shows them an antique heirloom-the "Dagger from a Fish's Intestines." As Ma shows the crowd that the dagger can whittle a piece of iron as if it were wood, Hua-ling grows frightened. "Why do I fear the sword so?" "It has shed too much blood," snaps the troupe leader.

The couple see each other almost every night, and the troupe leader decides it is enough. "Gossip flows," he warns. "I don't care," she retorts. The troupe leader is not alone in trying to tear the couple apart. Ma's mother demands he choose her or the actress, and shows Hua-ling the door.

Ma breaks with his family and fol­lows her, and Hua-ling tells him that the only obstacle standing between them now is her father's one-time apprentice. "I have spent 20 years with him, which is not as good as 20 days with you," she confesses. Ma decides to make a deal with the leader. "I will barter my dagger heirloom for you."

On the night of their last perfor­mance in the town, the troupe leader decides to perform the play, Kill Yen Hsi-chiao in Her Chamber, adapted from Shih Nai-an's novel, All Men Are Brothers. The plot centers on a public-spirited man, Sung Chiang of the Sung Dynasty. Yen Hsi-chiao, a pretty woman living in the same town, is so poor she has to sell herself to bury her father. Sung Chiang makes her his concubine and builds Wulong Court for her. However, she then falls in love with Sung's disciple, Chang Wen-yuang. When Sung catches intimations of the affair, the couple become at odds with each other.

In fact, Sung Chiang is one of the leaders of a gang of hero-bandits with Liangshanpo as their home base. One day, one of the bandits, Chao Kai, sends a letter to Sung, who carelessly loses it. Yen Hsi-chiao finds and hides it, then uses it as a club to force Sung to divorce her. Sung has no choice but to comply, but when Hsi-chiao, instead of returning the letter, threatens to report him to the authorities, an enraged Sung kills her.

On stage, the play is drawing to its end.

The troupe leader, playing Sung Chiang, is furious. "You want a divorce paper, and I give you a divorce paper. You want to marry Chang Wen-yuang, and I let you marry Chang Wen-yuang.

And yet you do not return the letter to me?"

"Humph."

"That's too much! You won't return the letter to me?"

"What if I won't?"

"I would .... "

"You would...curse me?" "What would I curse you for?" "You would... flog me?" "What would I flog you for?"

"You would not flog nor curse me. Then would you snatch a dagger to kill me?..."

At the moment, the troupe leader is transformed into Sung Chiang himself. He pulls the "Dagger from a Fish's Intes­tines" from his boot. The dagger shines bluishly under the gas lamp. Hua-ling is suddenly aware that she is really doomed to die. In great panic, she dodges wildly on stage and screams: "I'll give you the letters ... Mother!"

The stage is so small that the troupe leader easily traps Hua-ling. The audience can't tell the reality from the play being performed-except for Ma, he leaps on stage, only to have Hua-ling die in his embrace.

The wheel spins to Pan III; it is 80 years later, in Taiwan, Republic of China.

A group of modern dancers are rehearsing Capture San Lang Alive for a performance on the off-shore island of Penghu. Hua-ling, now a modern dancer, wears a white garment, like snowflakes. Ma is a wizard, galloping and dancing over a fire before an altar. And the troupe leader is his brother, a Taoist priest.

Upon their arrival on the island, the dancers run into a line of eight wizards, swaying in front of a temple. Drawn by their spectacular seven-step gaits, Hua-ling learns their steps alongside the wizards. When her eyes suddenly meet those of the chief wizard, both of them feel that they are old acquaintances. But just as they search out clues for this fami­liarity, the priest calls out loudly to his brother to go home with him for lunch.

The wizard, Chiu-shan, takes a chicken and picks up the knife his brothe­r uses in religious rites in order to kill it. A leit motif sounds in the music. The knife is the "Dagger from the Fish's In­testines," and the priest hurries in the scene to prevent his brother using it.

Chiu-shan is also a great woodcarver, and he tells his brother that he wants to take up the craft in Taipei. His brother declares: "I have sworn on the alter that you shall not leave here. I would not be at ease if you were not at my side."

Setting up stage in front of a temple, the modern dance troupe has, meanwhile, met with strong protest from the townsfolk, who say the stage will be an obstacle to deities traveling from the sea. Their only solution is to solicit the pri­est's intercession. While visiting his home, the dancer and the priest's brother meet again. They decide to meet at the seashore.

"Why do you have to be a wizard?" asks the dancer?

"My brother wants me to be a wizard."

"Have you ever had your own opinions? How can your brother influence you like this?"

A girl slips on the cliff and falls to the sea below. The wizard jumps in to rescue her, then joins the dancer at a seashore fire to warm up. As the scene becomes warmer, the priest arrives to summon his brother back home.

"He is no longer a boy," protests the dancer.

"I am taking care of my own brother. What does it have to do with you?"

They argue furiously, and she returns to her group with great anger. Her friends advise her, "A modern dancer and a wizard-impossible. Come, you have only known each other two days." She replies, "But I feel I have known him a long time, like an old friend. I must care for and help him."

A Taoist sacrificial rite is to be held on the island; the wizard is to climb a ladder constructed from knives. But per­suaded by the dancer, the wizard abandons the rite. The priest, having no other choice but to climb the knife-ladder him­self, is so old and so weak that he falls from the ladder. The "Dagger from a Fish's Intestines" pierces his heart.

After performing the rites to pacify the soul of his brother, the wizard leaves Penghu for Taipei. He enters a theater with no audience. The dancer is creating a new number based on the wizard's unique gestures.

With decades of experience in directing their own films, senior directors King Hu, Lee Shing, and Pai Ching-jui have put their heads together to create the trilogy. A local film critic said that for King Hu, it is a film for art's sake; for Lee Hsing, it is a film for drama's sake; and for Pai Ching-jui, it is a film for the film's sake.

The original script is the brainchild of King Hu's wife, Chung Ling, who met the special characters of the three direc­tors via a trilogy set in three different eras-the Ming Dynasty, the early Republic, and the modern age.

King Hu has shot many films with the Ming Dynasty as his background. Such films as Lungmen Inn and The Martyrs even employed the Ching Yi Wei court troupe in their stories. King Hu is a director noted for his talent in creating new treatments of China's traditional martial arts. In the past, martial arts portrayals were treatments as unreal as the battles in Peking opera. He laid a solid foundation for more convincing Chinese kung fu films, but acknowledges only, "I simply add elements of rhythm and dancing to the movement."

Since he believes that a film should be, in itself, a masterpiece of art, he wants to create a feeling of Chinese land­scape painting in each scene. For in­stance, as the court troupe's Lu Cheng-yi and his dumb lackey engage in a fierce fight with the righteous forces of Feng Jui, a brown poisonous powder erupts from the rooftops of thactched huts. The white garments of the righteous force whip in the air, harmonizing with the erupting brown powder, bluish gray mountains and water in the distance, and a bamboo bridge gracefully crossing a stream. The artistic setting seems to mute the cruelty demonstrated in the in-fighting.

In another scene, Lu and his lackey sit on boulders scattered on a riverbed. Archers from the righteous force try to ambush the two. To show Lu's quick sword hands, he is shown catching and breaking each arrow. Then, to the accompaniment of clear and melodious sound, the fighting is practically all martial arts. Liao Hsiang-hsiung, producer of the Wheel comments, "King Hu never resorts to actual fencing unless he finds it extremely necessary. Also, he doesn't want his actors to fly in the air like acrobats. He is meticulous about his props, and many couldn't pass his personal quality controls. Such things may seem petty or trivial, but combined, they make the film right."

It is suprising to note how the actual film of Part I differs from the original script. King Hu asserts: "The original story in Part I is based on Ching Yi Wei's monologue. The plot was not strong enough to be shot as a film. Neither is it convincing to have Lu Cheng-yi, a man of high rank and social status, sacrifice everything simply for a woman. That is why instead of emphasizing his deep love for the Lady, I am lured more into pointing out the complicated relationship among the three. Their fates are inter­ twined, but don't forget that it is the first time they have met."

In the Ming Dynasty period, it was custom for a girl to be betrothed via an arrangement made by her parents. In the Wheel of Life, the Lady and Feng lui have not seen each other until the epi­sode begins. For them, to love each other is more of an obiligation than any­thing else, but it stirs emotion. With a profound mission on her shoulders, which she couldn't possibly lay bare to anyone, she has to turn down the assis­tance offered by Feng lui. Still, tradition strikes its roots in her heart. She is obliged to save her fiancee's life when he is held at sword point by Lu Cheng-yi. "Miss Han, now what?" "Kill him.... Kill him, and I'll ram myself against the wall." There is strong conflict between duty and tradition-stirred emotion.

Blind to the lady's actual intentions, Feng still doubts that all her maneuvers aim at power and fortune. That is why in the very few times they see each other, they always wrangle ferociously.

Lu Cheng-yi may not necessarily love the lady. Like an eagle, he is sharp and ambitious, and he wants to snatch his prey when there is an opportunity. He is too practical and rational to forego his career for a woman. For King Hu, that is a much more convincing way to see the relationship among the trio.

When it comes to Part II, preordained fate shifts the relationship. In the pear garden, the prima donna and her father's apprentice have been together for 20 years. It is only natural for him to stealthily love her. But the karma of Buddhism preordains love between the prima donna and the tycoon at first sight. They lament: "Why didn't I meet you earlier?" The theory of samsara or transmigration may prove too much for those who do not believe in Buddhism, but such an audience is still moved by lingering and tender emotions, smolder­ing in lovers' eyes.

With a sharp insight into human nature, Lee Hsing is perhaps the director best fitted to picture human beings as they really are. He is able to precisely catch people's reaction to a certain cir­cumstance, and to extricate himself from falling into the trap of stereotyped behavior.

For instance, while Madame Ma was mercilessly showing Hua-ling the door, and the latter returned home in great anger, other directors may simply have arranged for Hua-ling to cry bitterly in her bed chamber. Not Lee Hsing. As a leading female player in the troupe, he sees Hua-ling as somewhat spoiled, by the troupe leader in particular. So, she feels more than wronged when people air grievances against her and has to give vent to her feelings. In a provocative mood, she began to wrangle with the troupe leader.

And for the troupe leader, the prima donna is a treasure not to be exchanged, even for a magical heirloom.

Lee Hsing admits that since drama was his major in his long-ago studies on the mainland, he has a deep affection for Peking opera. He set up his play stage with a capital of NT$1 million (U$S250,000). The excellence of the plays within almost dwarfs other aspects of the movie.

Playing the leading female role in all three parts is Pen Hsueh-fen. "Though only 23, she is the brightest kid I have ever known," avers Lee Hsing. However, Producer Liao Hsiang-hsing recalled an interesting episode involving Lee Hsing and Pen Hsueh-fen.

At first, Lee was not quite satisfied with the choice of Pen as the leading female role. "She is too thin, too tall, too baby-faced, and she knows nothing about Peking opera," he complained. One day, the director made an appointment with Pen to watch a Peking opera performance together. Pen was late and watched the performance listlessly. Enraged, Lee Hsing began again to question if he had made the right choice. When the show was over, the director started to leave the theater along with the rest of the audience. Suddenly, looking back, he saw Pen standing in the aisle, bright and sparkling. "Some actresses are beautiful, but they are not so bright or eye-catching," said the director.

It all proves that Pen is clever, beyond comparison. She had invited a master to teach her Peking opera for two months, and her posture, complexion, and gestures had become professional. In the last number of the Peking opera Kill Yen Hsi-chiao in Her Chamber, the coquettish prima donna enlivens the historic figure of Yen Hsi-chiao. Her wanton nature is especially tell-tale as she makes eyes at tycoon Ma, sitting in the audience, while she is, at the same time, playing Yen Hsi-chiao on stage. Though on stage, her heart has flown downstage. Eyes meet and are glued. Her heart seems to be coated with honey, adhesive and sticky.

The flirtation cannot escape the hawk eyes of the troupe leader. Inflamed, he starts to lose his rationality. He can no longer differentiate between the hero­ bandit leader Sung Chiang and the actor. When Yen Hsi-chiao refuses to give him the letter, his eyes glare with a mixture of love and hatred, so strong, that they are alien to Sung Chiang. With dagger in hand, puffing, eyes turned red, and beads of sweat running down from his forehead, we understand the fate of the trio is, again, doom.

Lee Hsing pointed to criticism by some that his films are too distant from real life, too dramatic. This may have something to do with his own stage background. This defect is, however, overcome by the minute detail of a life-like script and by his sharp insight into human nature and character development.

Having studied the cinema arts in Italy, Pai Ching-jui saw Part III from another vantage. He is at his best capi­talizing on the special techniques and functions of the cinema arts. To connect Parts II and III, he begins Part III with the modern dance number Capture San Lang Alive, which is also adapted from the opera.

In Peking opera, Capture San Lang Alive is a continuation of Kill Yen His-chiao in Her Chamber. After Yen Hsi­ chiao is killed by Sung Chiang in the opera, her ghost cannot rest in peace. Thinking that it is all the fault of Chang Wen-yuan (nicknamed San Lang), the ghost decides to take revenge. She steals back from Hades to check and see if San Lang really loved her. Learning that he has turned against her, the ghost transforms herself into the Goddess of Fury, chasing after San Lang until he is captured.

The sequence was ingeniously incor­porated in the film to serve as a continuation from Part II. Even as a number in Peking opera, it requires acrobatic skills. Pai Ching-jui uses some special stunts in presenting the modern dance.

Since the Buddhist concept of samsa­ra or transmigration is mysterious to most people, the episode is set on Penghu, a conservative island communi­ty mushroomed with ancient temples and other old buildings.

In addition to the trio's doomed fate, the director wants to emphasize the transition from the traditional to the modern age. By juxtaposing modern dance and traditional religious rites in his film, he wants to show the public both how they clash and how they harmonize. A handy example can be found in the modern dance troupe's rehearsal of two dance numbers, one adapted from Peking opera and the other from the puppet show. For those who love folk ac­tivities, this film is a luxury banquet.

On the off-shore island, the modern lovers again encounter a deep mutual affection, though not altogether convinc­ingly. We share the suspicions of other members of the dance troupe:

"It is not impossible to fall in love at first sight, but you are too far and wide between. We brought modern dance techniques along with us, and may bring back traditions and folk arts, but we should not treat what is new in our life experiences as love."

Perhaps the only rational explanation is Buddhist karma. The love affair is not blessed, however, at least not by the wizard's brother. Torn between his lover and his brother, the young wizard is caught in a dilemma.

In comparing the Four Moods, jointly created by four local directors ten years ago, the Wheel of Life has made cinemat­ic breakthroughs in several ways.

Though the Four Moods (joy, anger, grief, and happiness-the gamut of human feeling) is a film in separate parts, each one is independent of the others. The trilogy is different in that running through its three parts are not only such links as the "Dagger from the Fish's Intestine," but the fact that the trio is preordained to suffer in the self same pot.

A Buddhist classic carries a story which may help expound the theory of samsara:

During the reign of Emperor Yi Tsung of the Tang Dynasty, there was a "monk of the state" called Wuta. But long before he became monk of the state, he met another monk in the capi­tal, Chang-an, who had contracted a strange illness-he was repelled by all people except master Wuta. Living next door to the ill monk, Wuta dropped in frequently to show his concern. When he recovered, the monk warned Wuta: "You will have trouble in the future. Come to Mt. Chiu-long in Szechuan Pro­vince to see me. My residence is marked by two pine trees."

After Wuta was ordained as monk of the state, even the Emperor himself visited his temple to seek his blessings. However, all of a sudden, a tumor grew from his knee, complete with eyebrows, eyes, mouth, and teeth. It could even take food like human beings. All the leading physicians in the world were summoned, but to no avail.

Wuta suddenly recalled the monk he had once assisted, and decided to pay him a visit. He climbed the mountain and quickly located the monk's residence amid the clouds, marked by two pine trees. After learning of Wuta's suffering, the monk said, "Don't worry. There is a clear spring at the foot of the mountain. Shower the tumor with the spring water, and you will recover tomorrow."

At dusk the following day, the master hurried to the spring. Just as he scooped up water to shower it upon the tumor, the human-faced tumor cried out "Stop it! Let me ask you, have you read the anecdote in which Yuan An kills Chao Chou as related in the Book of the Western Han?". The master nodded his head.

The human faced tumor then revealed that Wuta was Yuan An while it was Chao Chuo. "It is all because of you that I was killed. Do you know how deeply I was wronged? I have been seek­ing opportunities for revenge. But in the previous ten cycles of life, you were an eminent monk with strict self-discipline. I had no chance to carry it through. Today, with the blessings of the Emperor, you lead a luxurious life and have started to seek fame and fortune. As your virtue has been contaminated, I am able to be near you and make you suffer. Today, by taking a bath in the spring, I will be able to extricate myself from my predicament. I will no longer do anything against you."

Scared out of his wits, master Wuta at once scooped up water to shower on the tumor. It was so bitterly sore that the master fainted. When he finally regained consciousness, the tumor was gone. He suddenly realized the unpredictability of world affairs. When he looked back to the top of the mountain, the monk's residence was gone. He then built a thatched hut on the mountain and spent the rest of his life there.

In an interview with Monk Puhsien at Lion's Head Mountain, he said: "There is a previous life, a current life, and an after life in Buddhist belief. The previous life helps to explain the phe­nomenon of this life. But we can always control karma in this life in a way which will eventually decide our direction in the future."

That is how the Wheel of Life spins. The three leading directors, the three dedicated performing artists, and three different backgrounds combine, and a product is created that is unique in the history of the Chinese movie industry. "At least, it will sometimes serve the purpose of useful reference material for those who are interested in studying Chi­nese movie history," said Liao Hsiang-hsiung, producer and director, Taiwan Film Studio.

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