City of Life and Death’ a DVD must - for the strong of heart

My Spokane Public Radio review this week was of a movie that is no longer playing in Spokane, Lu Chuan’s “City of Life and Death.” So it goes. But though it has moved on from the Magic Lantern, it’s already available on DVD, so it’s not beyond your reach. I recommend it, though with some reservations — especially to those who get inordinately disturbed by emotionally violent content.

Following is my review:

As long as we humans have been collecting what we need to survive – whether this means animal skins, caves in which to lurk or vast reservoirs of oil, coal and natural gas – we have been fighting. War, it seems, is a natural part of who we are, part of our struggle to make sure we live on – even if the adjoining village, kingdom or country has to suffer. Many academics, more knowledgeable and far smarter than I, can explain the whys and hows of this process. All I can do is wonder at how, as millennia have passed, so much has changed and yet so much remains the same. Humankind’s capacity for brutality seems … well, limitless.

This becomes clear almost from the beginning of Lu Chuan’s film “City of Life and Death,” which played recently at the Magic Lantern Theatre. Lu’s film tells the story of what occurred during the winter of 1937-38 in Nanjing, China. The horror of Nanjing, commonly referred to as Japan’s Rape of Nanjing , has been told before, in history texts, in novels and in a number of films, both narrative and documentary. But seldom has it been told more artfully, more powerfully than here.

Lu gives us the historical overview in visual shorthand. Through a series of notes, scrawled on postcards, Lu describes the Japanese advance. Then he shows us what occurs. The Chinese leaders flee, the army fights itself to do the same – some troops want to continue fighting, others are anxious only to save themselves. The Japanese attack and begin to kill – and kill and kill. Chinese soldiers are shot, stabbed, buried alive. Civilians are shot, stabbed, hung – and women of all ages are used for sexual sport, “comfort” for the Japanese troops, as their generals put it.

Through all this horror, Lu’s cameras move from one group, one character, to the next, blunting the worst of the slaughter by refusing to linger on specific moments, the way a Sam Peckinpah or a John Woo would, and by shooting in a glowing black and white instead of color. In this way, Lu introduces us to his cast of characters – a stalwart Chinese street fighter, a conscience-stricken Japanese sergeant and the prostitute he falls in love with, a Chinese aid worker, a compassionate German official ( ironically, a Nazi) and his Chinese assistant – and we get to know some well, others only in passing as they fall victim to the whims of fate.

Some of what Lu does feels a bit strident. If his camera lingers at all, it’s on faces, letting his actors – almost all unknown to Western audiences – reveal what their respective characters are thinking. And, yes, in doing this Lu is indulging, insisting that there’s a kind of nobility in suffering. Yet he can be forgiven this indulgence. A documentation of horror needs some outlet, some means for the audience to escape. And nobility – even if misplaced – is as good a refuge as any.

Ultimately, sitting through “City of Life and Death” is less an act of enjoyment than an endurance test. But to those who don’t flinch in the face of brutality, who believe that the only way to prepare for the promise of the future is to embrace the sins of the past, Lu’s film is likely to prove illuminating. If nothing else, Lu’s willingness to see the best even among the worst of us is refreshing. The Japanese army that invaded China was one of the most savage military units in history . But it was hardly unique. Every country – yes, even ours – has committed similar crimes, often through the acts of otherwise ordinary people.

It’s only right that we remember this. And we’re fortunate that such artists as Lu Chuan are around to show us why

Below : The trailer for Lu Chuan’s “City of Life and Death.”