Two aspects of this film really stuck out to me this past week: the repeated images of the women in Pu Yi’s life abandoning him and the emphasis on the value of freedom. Not only are these two motifs interesting in their own rights, it is also worth considering how they work together in The Last Emperor.

Only a few minutes into the movie, viewers are presented with the heartbreaking scene in which Pu Yi is taken from his biological mother and spirited away to the Forbidden City to become the next emperor. While his mother doesn’t remove herself from her royal son by choice, years later when they are reunited, Pu Yi demonstrates an antagonistic attitude toward his mother as if he believes she could have done something to prevent their long separation. Similarly, Pu Yi is barely at the Forbidden City when the Empress, a creepy, grandmotherly figure, dies in front of him. Again, a woman with the potential to care for Pu Yi leaves him in a state where he feels confused, alone, and vulnerable. The young Pu Yi replaces his absent mother with his wet nurse (with whom he has a rather twisted relationship…); but when she is secretly and forcibly banished from the Forbidden City when Pu Yi grows older, the young emperor is devastated and runs after her with all his might, only to find the massive gate to the Forbidden City barring him from his female comforter forever.

As an adult, Pu Yi is still not immune to the women in his life leaving him. Although his relationships with his empress Wan Jung and his secondary consort Wen Hsiu thrive at first, after several years, it becomes clear that Wen Hsiu is the third wheel in the trio. On a rainy day after the emperor and his household have been evicted from the Forbidden City, an enraged and heartbroken Wen Hsiu just walks away from the ex-emperor’s mansion and from Pu Yi. She even refuses an umbrella(!), which maybe shows how desperate she is to become her own person and find someone who values only her in a romantic relationship.

Pu Yi’s relationship with Wan Jung doesn’t end up faring much better (spoiler alert!), though they are together longer. After Pu Yi has become the puppet emperor of Manchukuo, Wan Jung falls under the influence of the mysterious and stereotype-shattering Eastern Jewel, who persuades Wan Jung to try opium (to which she becomes addicted). Furthermore, the empress’s suspicions that the Japanese are merely using her husband lead her to begin an affair with Pu Yi’s driver in order to produce a “royal” heir for Pu Yi (this thought-process is messed up, yes), hence abandoning Pu Yi in a different way. After the birth (and death) of the baby, Wan Jung is also taken away from Pu Yi (supposedly to receive needed treatment, but actually because she has become an embarrassment, in the opinion of the Japanese). When Wan Jung returns to the emperor’s palace in Manchukuo at the end of World War II as Pu Yi is preparing to flee, she presents a terrifying figure: Her opium addiction has rendered her unrecognizable, and she looks like a monster. This time, Pu Yi leaves her (although it can be argued that Wan Jung’s addiction has already made her absent from her husband).

Let’s also consider the presentation of freedom in The Last Emperor, especially in light of all the “leaving” female characters. We’ve seen already how Pu Yi is separated from his mother at the beginning of the film, but this scene also marks the end of Pu Yi’s freedom. He becomes a virtual prisoner in the Forbidden City. When the empress dies and Pu Yi becomes ruler, he also is forced to bind himself by all the rules and customs the emperor must follow. Granted, there are a lot of perks, and he can mostly do whatever he wants to whomever he wants whenever he wants. Yet, he cannot go out and play with children his own age; and (rather hilariously) there are a couple of big to-do’s when Pu Yi is given a bicycle by his Scottish tutor and when Pu Yi discovers he needs glasses (emperors don’t wear glasses, say the former emperor’s concubines). Perhaps these “freedoms” that Pu Yi has to boss everyone around and wallow in his extreme luxury are not true freedoms at all. Two of the most enduring (and disturbing) images in the film are when Pu Yi tries to reach his wet nurse before she is taken from him and when he throws his pet mouse against the gate of the Forbidden City, smashing the poor little guy, when he is barred from exiting into the outer world after he is told the news about his mother’s death. Throughout the rest of his life, Pu Yi is still basically a prisoner of his position.

Even outside the Forbidden City when he experiences his “playboy” years, Pu Yi cannot go wherever he wishes. It is interesting that it is during this phase of his life when Wen Hsiu, the secondary consort, leaves him. Her departure mimics what Pu Yi wishes for: an escape from the dictated and constrained life into which he was born. And while Pu Yi is the one who leaves Wan Jung near the end of the film, his doing so only leads to his capture by Soviet troops and eventual, literal imprisonment in a Chinese work camp. The singular time we really see Pu Yi as a free man (if he is indeed ever truly liberated) is after his release from the camp when he becomes a humble gardener and revisits the Forbidden City as an early morning tourist. Still, it cannot be ignored that this older version of the spoiled brat child from the first half of the film has admitted while in prison that everything that happened was his fault. Pu Yi’s acceptance of responsibility is refreshing, but it is unclear what things he considers to be his fault. Furthermore, his placing blame on himself puts him into another prison of sorts–the prison of guilt. So at the close of The Last Emperor, we viewers find the new Pu Yi more likeable, but there is still a big question about the extent of his true liberation (from his past, from his position, from the control of the Communists, from his own guilt).

For Me Then…

Dialogue about freedom will be a frequent occurrence with many of our upcoming films. Just as The Last Emperor presents different types of freedom and different types of imprisonment, so also will films like Schindler’s List, Braveheart, Titanic, Gladiator, and The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, to name a few. While the freedoms and prisons vary in how each film presents them, one common idea that they share about freedom is how much it costs. If we go back to the incident with Pu Yi and the smashed mouse on the gate of the Forbidden City, we can draw a couple of conclusions about freedom and the price that is often demanded for it. First, it is frequently the case that one must take action to achieve one’s own freedom. Although Pu Yi’s mouse-slaughtering action does not win him freedom, this instance of his rebellion against his helpless state of confinement sets the stage for his later realization while in prison that he had a responsibility to his people and his family to make their lives better (and not just please himself). Second, freedom is often closely linked with death. For Pu Yi, his actually being the one who kills the mouse in his rage over being confined may indicate his feeling that death is preferable to a life without true freedom. Then again, The Last Emperor may be telling us in this scene that Pu Yi, because of his inherited position (and thus his destiny), can only find freedom in death. Morbid.

I find films that attempt to deal with the concept of freedom (how it is attained/retained, what it costs, what it means, etc.) highly compelling. They tap into an issue that all of humanity faces–and wrestles with. Freedom, whether it be political, physical, emotional, spiritual, etc. is so closely tied to identity and life purpose. It plays into the ultimate questions about who I am and why I am here. Plus, if we as humans admit that our greatest issues are our imprisonment to sin and death, freedom–of our souls–becomes the paramount issue of life. Any film, then, that attempts to show us that we are unable to save ourselves and need a higher Power to give us true freedom is well worth the viewing. The Last Emperor isn’t quite there, but it sure makes an effort.