_To Live_ reviewed by Cynthia Fuchs Zhang Yimou's latest film has been called "epic.'' But its sensibility is less grand than accute, covering some forty years of history (moving from the rigid class hierarchy of 1940s China through the civil war and Cultural Revolution) through close focus on the experiences of one small family. The travails of Fugui, his wife Jiazhen (Gong Li), their daughter and son, are harsh and even tragic, but the film remains densely ironic, such that horrific events become increasingly absurd, often framed as a kind of awkward comedy. This frankly brilliant mix of emotional tones sharpens the film's political commentary, which is by turns indirect and rambunctiously explicit. Reading these events is further complicated by Zhang's typically beautiful visuals (carefully observed details as well as stunning panoramas) and an astonishing soundtrack (not so much background music, but _sounds_, as when a huge army of footsoldiers is introduced by the barely discernable thunder of their thousand steps, so that when they become visible, running toward the camera over a distant hill, the effect is literally breathtaking). Fugui begins as a member of the aristocracy, a compulsive gambler who is cruelly indifferent to his pregnant wife's pleas that he stop. If the very act of gambling is almost poetic here (the dice cups are raised overhead and shaken, with fluid, perfectly choreographed movements), the background - a club which features opera and shadow puppets - points toward Fugui's impending troubles. He loses his money and mansion, and Jiazhen leaves him. By the time she returns, their financial status is severely reduced. This turns out to be a blessing when Mao comes to power, for they can claim to be working class, and so elude persecution for being "counter-revolutionary.'' "To live'' in spite of everything serves as the dramatic theme, played out in a variety of circumstances and particulars. Fugui makes his new living as an opera singer for his shadow puppet troupe; the civil war is introduced by a single, impeccably significant gesture: from backstage, we see a soldier's sword slashing through the screen during a show. This ancient art continues to serve metaphorically, as Fugui survives capture by the nationals by performing for them, then later entertains his fellow villagers (all communists now, a matter of survival), as they "support'' the Cultural Revolution by making pitiably small amounts of steel ("Enough for three cannonballs!''). China's failure to retake Taiwan is only hinted at, but the point is clear: local community efforts are misdirected, produced by fearful conformity and ignorance. Aspiring to outstrip European and U.S. production (and imperialism), they shout slogans, wave little red books, and wear uniforms and buttons, without self-consciousness of the larger context. And yet, this context is at the same time all too clear, as the family pays an awful price, losing two members to avoidable accidents. Blame for these disasters is passed around by the grieving survivors, but the film's critique of the governing system is hard to miss. By now, such ridicule of the Revolution's excesses - for example, "repressing'' intellectuals and doctors as well as aristocrats - is common practice (even if culpability is officially displaced onto the Gang of Four rather than Mao). That _To Live_ ends during the early seventies insures that it doesn't have to comment directly on the present government; given recent struggles over state funding and distribution of Zhang's movies, which now have a threateningly international following, this caution is understandable (and yet, perpetually undermined by inventive allusions). The subtlety, potency, and majesty of his work are undeniable. Like _Red Sorghum_, _Ju Dou_, _Raise the Red Lantern_, _The Story of Qui Ju_, this film demonstrates a restless, courageous virtuosity; exhilarating and ingenious, it moves in ways that most films can't even imagine. Cynthia Fuchs teaches film and media studies at George Mason University. Copyright by Cynthia Fuchs. All rights reserved. Please do not reprint this review without the permission of the author. This review originally appeared in the Philadelphia _City Paper_.