The Battle at Lake Changjin

Commissioned by the propaganda department of the Chinese Communist Party to celebrate the 100th anniversary of their founding, The Battle at Lake Changjin is a bloody affirmation of Chinese identity that uses a real-life rout during the Korean War to describe a political ideology so strong (not to mention romanticised) that it can completely repel the creeping forces of imperialism. The film presents brotherhood, both literal and fraternal, as a strength so potent and unbeatable that it can cross class and national boundaries, uniting thousands in one clear objective. Changjin proposes all this whilst also deleting any extraneous elements - such as the Koreans themselves - to arrive at a conflict between small groups of highly motivated Chinese, lead by the Wolf Warrior Wu Jing, and an oblivious mass of chundering Americans who would rather be back in their own country. 

In this sense then Changjin is closer to a fantasy epic than a war film that might flatter itself as a historical document. Directed by Palme d'Or winner Chen Kaige (for Farewell My Concubine), New Wave movie brat Tsui Hark (given all the sharp implements and nationalism on display here, The Blade and the Once Upon a Time in China series seem the most relevant to cite) and Beast Cops director Dante Lam, The Battle at Lake Changjin is also unapologetic in how it mangles the visual language of the American war film. Massing, computer generated, might and the idiosyncratic asides typically deployed to evoke a feeling of homesickness are turned in against their originators. Triumphant saturation bombing is contextualised from a ground level, becoming pitiless war crimes perpetrated against defenceless civilians; the greasy comforts of home are held up as repulsive excess when contrasted with frozen troops politely nibbling on their own, dwindling, potato ration. 

Changjin depicts its Americans in much the same way that Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings trilogy did its orcs: they are aimless biomechanoids who drive pulverising industry while protected by their fantastical air superiority. They huddle in meat walls and complain about how this war inconveniences their plans for the holiday season. Christmas and the God it celebrates are treated with a certain amount of bemusement by the film too - the power the latter represents is evoked constantly by the American high command when referring to the righteousness of their mission. This higher authority is even recognised by the Chinese, but only in the adverse weather conditions that are all forced to endure, the acknowledgment functioning more as a way to measure the sheer scale of the (eventual) Chinese victory. Above all though, these Americans are bullies who are completely incapable of the selfless heroics and physical ingenuity displayed by their Chinese opponents. This atypical alignment is massaged by a suite of exceptional action scenes that, again, mutate prestige beats from American cinema. The excruciating horror of Saving Private Ryan's knife sequence is exploded to include multiple participants, huge spurts of blackened gore, and a greenhorn who is actually gutsy enough to pick up a pistol and fire back.