M. BUTTERFLY
A film review by James Berardinelli
Copyright 1993 James Berardinelli
M. BUTTERFLY
Rating (Linear 0 to 10): 4.2
Date Released: 10/8/93 (selected cities); 10/15/93 (everywhere) Running Length: 1:41 Rated: R (Sexual situations, nudity)
Starring: Jeremy Irons, John Lone, Barbara Sukowa, Ian Richardson Director: David Cronenberg Producer: Gabriella Martinelli Screenplay: David Henry Hwang, based on his play Music: Howard Shore Released by Geffen Films through Warner Brothers
The place and time are Beijing, 1964. Rene Gallimard, an accountant working for the French Embassy, has just arrived in China. Early in his tenure, he attends a performance of Puccini's MADAME BUTTERFLY performed by the outspoken and exotic singer Song Liling (John Lone), who is actually a man masquerading as a woman. Not recognizing this, Gallimard proceeds to pursue an affair with Liling, never once recognizing that he is being duped. However, the deception goes even deeper, for Liling is working for the Communist government and using the relationship with Gallimard to procure important French intelligence.
The main problem with M. BUTTERFLY is one of credibility. All other issues momentarily aside, there is a huge question that needs to be answered: How can Gallimard have lived with, and made love to, this person for eighteen years, yet not recognized that Liling is actually a man? No firm solution is given, and the subject is only tackled in the most oblique and unsatisfactory manner.
The first half of M. BUTTERFLY, which takes place in China, is far better than the disastrously-constructed final portion (in France). While the romance between Gallimard and Liling isn't particularly effective (Jeremy Irons generates about as much heat as an ice cube), there are at least some interesting ideas presented here which, if nothing else, provide fodder for the intellect. Liling has some uncompromising opinions about the roles of men and women in society. In answer to the question of why men are frequently used to take on the roles of women in Chinese operas, his response is: "Because only men know how women are supposed to act."
As a whole, the plot doesn't pay much attention to reality, despite having been based on a true-to-life scandal. There are a lot of little things that simply don't ring true.
Yet, despite all the problems, M. BUTTERFLY remains strangely compelling through most of the first hour, and a great deal of the credit for this must go to actor John Lone, who does an excellent job in a challenging role. However, when the scene shifts to Paris, the story gets so disjointed and confused that it's impossible to know what to think.
The final confrontation between Gallimard and Liling as a man, is a dud. There's no connection between these two, and it's difficult to accept that they've lived together as husband and wife for so many years. The emotions released are obviously not heartfelt, and the lack of any genuine catharsis leaves the audience detached and frustrated. With his shedding of female garb, Lone loses the bulk of his charisma.
The final scene is artsy, symbolic, pretentious, and empty. Rarely have I been more disgusted by a supposedly-intelligent film's choice of "resolutions". I had thought Cronenberg a better craftperson than this.
Needless to say, there are similarities between M. BUTTERFLY and THE CRYING GAME, but beyond the switched-gender portrayals, there isn't much substance to the comparisons. The bulk of THE CRYING GAME makes sense; the same cannot be said about this movie. There are also a few issues touched on here that are presented far more effectively in FAREWELL MY CONCUBINE.
Jeremy Irons has done some excellent work in the past, but he is badly miscast here (as he was in Louis Malle's DAMAGE). The role of Gallimard demands an actor who can effectively convey deeply-felt passions and a driving obsession, tasks that Irons appears incapable of. He is flat, so the movie, which is told almost exclusively from his perspective, sputters and fizzles helplessly.
M. BUTTERFLY disappoints in almost every area, which is a shame considering the high regard with which the play has been received. The movie, however, seems to make the wrong decision at almost every opportunity, trying for the kind of melodramatic tragedy that only works in opera. Motion pictures like this need a firm grounding in reality which, sadly, Cronenberg has failed to provide. As a result, M. BUTTERFLY never gets out of the cocoon.
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