Adapted from Georges Bizet’s opera, “Carmen,” The Wild Wild Rose tells the story of Liang Hanhua, an unemployed piano teacher who takes a job in a Hong Kong nightclub as part of the backup band for the sexy and popular singer Deng Sijia. As a woman used to having every man wrapped around her finger, Sijia is somewhat miffed when the engaged Hanhua rejects her advances and remains uninterested. To keep her pride, she raises the stakes and takes a bet with the other band members, claiming that she can seduce the man within ten days.
Things get decidedly more complicated from these comic beginnings and the film delves more into romance, drama and even noir as the story develops. In fact, much of its appeal comes from the unique heterogeneous blend. Though it is considered a classic of Hong Kong cinema, The Wild Wild Rose is successful not by serving as a template for what may be the “Hong Kong” or “Cathay Studios musical,” but for its appropriation of Western and Eastern elements to create something new for viewers coming from either background.
The cross-culture mix is most apparent in the musical numbers, especially the opening blend of the familiar tune from the French opera with Mandarin lyrics sung by the sultry Grace Chang. Gone are the high-voiced female singers and percussion backing from Chinese opera, to be replaced by Chang’s more Western-style voice, the piano and stringed accompaniment and even some Latin flavor in both song and a flamenco dance before the climax. The film’s music composer, Ryoichi Hattori, is of a Japanese background as well, to make Rose even more difficult to pin down. It’s not entirely clear what tradition it is working in.
With the French “Carmen” transposed to the streets of Hong Kong in a nightclub—a classic location for Hollywood musicals and noir— the viewer is simultaneously steeped in traditions from three different continents, and as a result, the story becomes quite unpredictable. Deng Sijia simply begins as a cruel temptress getting in the way of a Liang Hanhua’s marriage (and filial duty) and the first act carries a light tone. It seems Hanhua will be tempted, and perhaps get in comic misunderstandings before going back to marry his fiancé. But Grace Chang shows her star power by slowly winning the viewer with a sympathetic angle and more focus on her love for Hanhua. She soon becomes the driving force of the film and upsets certain conventions, leaving us guessing about the plot’s direction as the tone darkens.
Will Sijia be killed like Carmen, even though in this version, she makes selfless, honorable decisions? Or will other characters be punished for their failure to perform their duties? There’s no easy solution, and though the plot plods along at a pace perhaps a bit slow for modern viewers, the exact outcome remains an exciting mystery that still holds up well— even fifty years later.
Reviewed by Tarun
