Lu Chuan’s 2012 movie The Last Supper (Wáng Dè Shèng Yàn) opens up with a nightmare, both diegetic, as the elderly first Han emperor dreams it, and also for us as the audience. The nightmare is accompanied by a narration from the emperor himself. As the emperor wakes up to what can’t anything other than his deathbed, his wife empress Lü Zhi enters the scene, dominating the entire room and essentially kicking out one of the emperor’s concubines who was there. Lü Zhi whispers in his ear “it is done”, and a man enters the room, stumbling, his hands bloodied all the way up to the elbows. He prostrates before the emperor and presents a gift box, which is opened to reveal the severed head of a man.

This scene sets up the mood for the rest of the film: a somewhat tangled, sometimes messy, non-linear narrative that begins as the emperor’s own reflections and ends up becoming much more than that as different moments and characters are incorporated, with a constant, gripping tension and filming techniques that can only described as a thriller to ultimately tell a web of narratives and historical what-ifs.

The historical facts – an overview

The movie can frankly be very hard to follow in the beginning, as we are directly thrown into a specific time in history and character after character is introduced, apparently not following any particular narrative structure but a stream-of-consciousness stye instead. I think much of this initial confusion on my side was due to my lack of knowledge of this particular story. The Last Supper is based on some historical facts surrounding the fall of the Qin dynasty (the first imperial dynasty to unify China), the transitional civil war period known as the Chu-Han Contention, and the resulting foundation of the Han dynasty.

As far as I understand, our main historical source for this time period is Sima Qian’s Records of the Grand Historian (Shiji), in which the movie claims to be based in. Now, I have tried to track down an English translation so I could read for myself some of the historical accounts we have regarding this time, but it has been proving somewhat difficult and will take more time. On Google search, most of the results will redirect you back to the Wikipedia¹ page in one way or another. I did find the History of China Podcast quite useful for learning the wider context of the situation. For the purpose of understanding the movie, and setting up this review/essay, I will summarize the bare bones of it as best as I can.

With the first emperor of the Qin dynasty dead, his young son took over the throne and it did not go too well. In fact, there was a rebellion against the Qin dynasty, motivated among other things by the imposed draconian laws and unification/standardization efforts of emperor Qin Shi Huang (more on that later). The badly advised new emperor ended up committing suicide and a relative of his, possibly his brother or perhaps his uncle, took over the throne but by then it was far too late. Eventually he surrendered the capital to a rebel leader, peasant-born Liu Bang (played by Liu Ye), whose forces arrived first ². Liu Bang was only one of many such leaders, the most prominent of which was Xiang Yu (played by Daniel Wu). The emperor was deposed and executed in 206 B.C. Xiang Yu resented that Liu Bang beat him to capturing the capital and invited him to a banquet (known as Hongmen Banquet)³ in which he tried to have Liu Bang killed, unsuccessfully. The empire was divided into eighteen kingdoms, handed out to different rebel leaders. Xiang Yu ruled over Chu and Liu Bang was given the distant kingdom of Han. Eventually, they waged war on each other and after 4 years of struggle, Liu Bang prevailed. Xiang Yu met his demise at the Battle of Gaixia. Liu Bang unified the land once more and became the first emperor of the Han dynasty⁴. After his death, his wife, empress Lü Zhi (played by Qin Lan), became empress dowager and essentially controlled the empire through her own son and grandchildren⁵.

The twist

The Last Supper takes this piece of history and tells it mainly through the eyes of the now-old Liu Bang through a series of flashbacks, with special emphasis on the Hongmen Banquet and the Battle of Gaixia. The frame story and main motivation of the entire plot is, however, the descent of Liu Bang into paranoia as he is convinced that his ministers want to overthrow him –a conviction that is very much encouraged by his wife Lü Zhi. The key players are, of course, Liu Bang, Xiang Yu and Lü Zhi, but other characters are added to the drama: minister Zhang Liang (played by Qi Dao), minister-scholar Xiao He (played by Sha Yi), minister Xiang Bo (played by Li Qi) and, above all, general Han Xin (played by Chang Chen).

As the film progresses and Liu Bang’s death comes nearer, his self-narrative begins to disintegrate, to dilute, into letting us see glimpses of other characters’ views. We follow Lü Zhi in a mission from her husband to finish off the alleged conspiracy. Through this journey, we get to see the aging key players in the rise of the Han dynasty. For example, we meet the careful, apparently frail strategist Zhang Liang and though we never get to see his mind in detail, actor Qi Dao offers a nuanced performance in his short screen time that adds depth to the character.

It is Han Xin, however, who looms all over the narrative in a way no other character does. In a lot of ways, Han Xin is presented as a reflection of Liu Bang. Scenes of Liu Bang finding himself fascinated by Xiang Yu upon meeting him are parallelled to scenes of Han Xin finding himself fascinated by Liu Bang upon meeting him. Like Liu Bang, Han Xin also thinks of his happier moments as open-space, country scenes, as well as marching in front of his army. But there are also some parallels to be drawn with Xiang Yu, like their idealism, narratively laying Han Xin in the middle of the two men. Han Xin abandons Xiang Yu’s side to join Liu Bang’s forces and it is Han Xin who commands Liu Bang’s forces during the Battle of Gaixia, granting his victory. As Liu Bang is constantly reminded, it is Han Xin, more than any other man, who he owes his emperorship to. But he, perhaps seeing too much of himself on Han Xin, has the latter almost immediately incarcerated for six years and later on released, though kept on house arrest. Han Xin and his alleged conspiracy are the pieces that unite the story and the things that obsess Liu Bang through his final days. Han Xin, still relatively young and a potential troublemaker, also seems to be a constant source of guilt for Zhang, who eventually becomes his benefactor (and gets in trouble for it). Xiao He, also knowing fully well how much the Han dynasty owes the man, is apparently genuinely fond of him. And yet, it is he who takes Han Xin to the slaughterhouse. In the end (which is also the beginning) of the movie, Lü Zhi has Han Xin executed and it is Xiao who has to present his severed head to the dying emperor.

The movie is clever in showing glimpses of things that later weave together. For example, Lü Zhi’s relationship with her husband –her jealousy and his marital carelessness, combined with the obvious absolute trust he holds for her the entire time— are laid out carefully in a handful of superbly done scenes that involve both the pair, and to a lesser extent his children and concubines. This serves as context for Lü Zhi’s actions after the movie has ended. The now-dead Liu Bang narrates his own surprise at finding out Lü Zhi, after his death, would eventually have his concubines and their children executed. One is left with the impression, once the movie finishes, that perhaps none of the alleged conspirators actually meant to betray the emperor, but Lü Zhi is playing the long game here: she knows the men who were loyal to her husband will not necessarily be men loyal to her.

All and all, this is a film about power, fear and death –a movie about ghosts: the dying Liu Bang, the still breathing but metaphorically buried alive Han Xin, the defeated Xiang Yu, the executed last emperor of Qin. The last one is the least prominent, but possibly the most crucial. When Liu Bang conquers the imperial capital and storms the palace (the second being a fact he later denies), the Qin emperor Xiying (played by Lü Yulai) surrenders and begs him on his knees to “keep the dream alive” –that is, to maintain the united China. Liu Bang sees this moment as the moment his ambition was born. He tells himself the emperor showed him the palace knowing he would not resist its temptations –the temptations of absolute power. Xiying offers no resistance, but during his execution he never takes his eyes off Liu Bang.

Now let’s talk about Xiang Yu. Ever so slightly mysterious and contained, in a lot of ways he ends up coming across as the more likeable of the two when compared to Liu Bang. I think this is partly because of how little we know him versus how intimately we get to know Liu Bang, whose later actions and insecurities can give the impression of a deeply ungrateful and insecure self-serving man. Xiang Yu’s presence is imposing, yet the camera seems to fall almost lovingly on him in some scenes. He is obviously ruthless but is presented as strangely merciful. One is left wondering to what extent Liu Bang’s guilt is affecting his memory after he admits that Xiang Yu let him escape untouched from the Hongmen Banquet. His final (and really only) scene with his lover/wife (played by He Dujuan), is filled with the tender emotion and romance that befits a tragic hero, as is his death by his own hand when he finally finds himself alone and hopeless in the battlefield at Gaixia. A proud and hard, yet soft man, almost as enigmatic as the impenetrable, haunting Han Xin. The difference? We never get to hear or see any side of Xiang Yu’s story from his perspective, except perhaps his encounter with his lover, but at the bitter end we do see a brief kaleidoscope of juxtaposed memories from Han Xin, almost a complete retelling of some of the earlier flashbacks that allow us to see the man (metaphorically and physically within the movie) in an entire new light – interestingly, he doesn’t reflect on the ending, the incarceration, the betrayal.

The technical aspects

There is another movie about the Chu-Han Contention released on the same year as The Last Supper, called White Vengeance. I have not watched it (yet), but I did take a look at it and was left with the impression that the latter is the blockbuster, action-packed version of the two and though probably a perfectly fine and entertaining watch, it seems to be little more than that. I might be wrong, of course, but The Last Supper certainly strikes me as the more compelling of the two. This is a movie with a palpable artistic vision and ambition. Since this analysis is concerned with the narrative, and therefore script, I will now speak briefly of the technical aspects of the film.

The look

At first, I found the editing itself confusing, and frankly badly done. There were a couple cuts that were so brusque it was displeasing to see. However, I am willing to overlook this for two reasons: first, I think the record that I watched might genuinely be missing a few photograms in a couple places and second, it becomes much better later. It is like you have to get accustomed to the language that is being presented. The flashbacks were extremely confusing at first, as it takes a moment to realize that there are at least three narrative layers (the first/final scene, the “present” that immediately precedes it, and the various flashbacks from different moments in the past). For this reason, my first impression of the film was that it was obtuse on purpose as well as pretentious. So I stopped in the middle and investigated the history it is based on, which was the best decision I could make. The context helped me not only understand the movie but enjoy it to a bigger extent, and I ended up both fascinated with the history and quite enamored with how the movie re-visits it –the reason why I’m writing an 3k words about it.

The look of the movie, on the other hand, is excellent. Everything is big, grandiose, and yet dark, cold, crude, even dirty. The palace and the shots of different parts of it (the patio where Han Xin is eventually executed, the dark emperor’s chambers and the complex library system in particular) are extremely effective. The cinematography is well done, with the colors and brightness always conveying the story and mood well, as well as incorporating a variety of beautiful and well executed shots. I lack the technical knowledge to talk about cinematography in more detail, but I think Han Xin’s final scene before his execution shows some of the most interesting aspects of it.

Finally, I can’t tell if the movie is accurate on the time’s depictions, but if it’s not, it certainly feels like it.

The sound

The soundtrack and music are both on point, and a big part of the reason why the movie is so effective in conveying a sense of urgency and thriller despite not really being labelled as the latter. Also, the sound editing is decent inasmuch as you can hear the actors’ voices clearly the entire film –which should be the bare minimum but apparently is not a requirement nowadays.

The acting

All the actors were great on their roles. The makeup for the aging characters wasn’t bad though it was a little bit whacky here and there. The costumes were also pretty neat and contributed to the solemnity of the scenes. Qin Lan was sharp and poignant as Lü Zhi –and I must not be the only one who thought she was great on the role, as she went on to play the same character on a TV series. The rest of the main cast are also perfect in their roles, particularly Liu Ye as Liu Bang.

The secondary cast really shines through: Qi Dao did a great job as Zhang as I previously pointed out, and Sha Yi as Xiao steals the show during the final act of the movie. He Dujuan does a wonderful job in her extremely short scenes as concubine Yu (my one bitter complaint about the movie is that I don’t think she said a single word in the entire film).

The historical facts? On history, writing, storytelling and memory

By using the framing narrative device, circular and yet nonlinear, and incorporating moments of flashbacks from the perspective of other characters, the movie weaves a tapestry in which it actively asks what it means to write history, and if there is any difference between stories and history, (self)narration and memory, truth and how we tell the alleged truth.

Tellingly, one of the first things Liu Bang and his men do upon taking over the imperial palace is to storm the sophisticated imperial archives –and search for their own names. It is through the manipulation of this archive and the disappearance of various records that Xiang Yu realizes that Liu Bang lied, and he indeed broke into the palace despite promising not to do it (which leads to the Hongmen Banquet).

The palace serves as a symbol of unity and power, of temptation. Later in life, it is Liu Bang who refuses to let his wife do more grandiose renovations on the palace. But perhaps even more important than the palace are the records it contains. When Xiang Yu arrives to the capital and has the Qin emperor executed and the empire divided into eighteen kingdoms, he tells the rebel generals to go home to speak their own languages and write their own history, directly rebuffing the idea of a unified China.

The theme of the movie comes even clearer in a one of its best scenes: minister Xiao He, head of the court scribes (and therefore the person supervising the writing of the history of the Han empire) scolds his scribes for the incongruous way in which they wrote down the events of the Hongmen Banquet, a narration which is implied to have been dictated by the emperor himself in a previous scene. Xiao He tells the necessary details to fill in the gaps –though the point to which he is simply fixing a badly told story, embellishing it, or truly telling it as it happened according to his own memory is left unclear. However, he is soon furious at finding that none of the scribes has written a single word of what he has said.

History, as we know, is written by the victors, and the victor of this movie is no doubt Lü Zhi. The previous scene with Xiao He follows with the empress entering the room: she shows she has had the biographical records of Xiang Bo and Han Xin written down in their entirety, revealing she is having them both assassinated. In panic and believing himself to be the victim of a plot, Xiao asks to see his own record just to find it blank. Lü Zhi gives him the option to write his own history: hand over Han Xin to fulfill the death she has already prescribed for him, prove his loyalty and save himself, or die and pass down through history as a traitor who meant to destroy of all he helped build. And thus, Xiao, who was presenting himself as a keeper of truth, a true historian, becomes a simple beacon for another story being told. Either way Lü Zhi will have her way and the records will not lie –Han Xin and Xiang Bo both die in the exact manner she asked to be written down.

So what is history and what is legend? How does history differ from just any other story? And who has the power to write and pass down history? How much of our own past, and therefore, ourselves and our identity, is a construction that benefited those in power at the time? Lu Chan presents these questions to us. None of them is new, and neither is any of the devices he’s chosen to tell this story. And yet it is a story that is worth being told and retold, and questions that we would do well to never stop asking.

If you are curious about the history, I recommend you listen to The History of China podcast episodes linked below. If you are curious about the movie, you can find it with English subtitles on YouTube.

Finally, I have to thank the Accented Cinema channel for helping me discover this movie, along with many other great ones.