History repeats itself, especially when it comes to the Academy Awards. Throughout its 92 years, very few Asian actors have been recognized, even when their films were otherwise embraced. This year, the victim of the insidious trend was Parasite, which won the SAG for Best Ensemble but couldn't muster enough support for a single acting nomination at the Oscars. Thinking back to the last non-English speaking Asian production to score a Best Picture nomination, we see the same phenomenon.
In 2000, Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon conquered a remarkable 10 nominations, including for Picture and Director but none of the nods were for acting. In the end, the blockbuster won four of its categories. Despite the acting branch's oversight, Michelle Yeoh and Zhang Ziyi received many nominations elsewhere, including the BAFTAs. The younger actress even conquered the Independent Spirit Award for Best Supporting Actress…
For many, Ang Lee's wuxia opus and its focus on kinetic fight scenes are a peculiarity in the context of the director's filmography. However, part of the genius of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon comes from the way it mixes the propulsive action of martial arts cinema with a melodrama woven out of Lee's preferred theme of emotional repression. The film's narrative hinges on the opposite trajectories of two women whose desires are conscripted by the society they live in, its gender rules, and codes of honor.
Michelle Yeoh plays Yu Shu Lien, the head of a private security service in 18th-century China. Many years ago, she was engaged to Meng Sizhao, the closest friend of master swordfighter Li Mu Bai (Chow Yun Fat). Since her fiancé's death, Shu Lien and Mu Bai have grown close, bound by shared grief and mutual respect. Still, no matter how the flower of love may blossom, they smother it out of loyalty to the dead man. Theirs are lives ruled by strict codes, their desires muffled by duty. It's a painful, unfulfilled existence, but they both have come to terms with it.
Zhang Ziyi's Jen Yu is a much different character. Born into wealth and gifted with a talent for violence, the young woman bristles against the limitations of her gender and social standing. Since childhood, her desire for freedom made her pursue a path in the martial arts, allying herself with a traitorous servant who had stolen a tome from a Wudang master. Like Shu Lien, Jen also loves a man whose affection is prohibited by the rules of polite society. Unlike her, Jen doesn't intend to let the flames of her heart's desires be snuffed out. These women's interlaced and contrasting narratives are put into motion when Jen steals Li Mu Bai's prized sword, Green Destiny.
It's an act of childish petulance and Zhang Ziyi is brilliant at showing the immaturity of her character. Jen may be a graceful fighter and accomplished debutante, but neither mask fits her. When she's bedecked in rich silks, there's tension to her smiles and minimal gestures. While her restlessness disappears in a flurry of motion when she's fighting, there's clumsiness marring her movements. She also has the overconfidence of a teenager, always on the precipice of crippling insecurity. She may wield the sword like a veteran combatant, but her eyes shine with fear and the eagerness of youth.
Ziyi lets Jens inner feelings constantly bubble over, bringing an electric charge to her scenes, even during a desert interlude where stabbing stands for sexual foreplay. Yeoh's character, on the other hand, is defined by controlled stillness. Jen is fire and Shu Lien ice. When they finally collide, no subterfuges covering either woman's true intentions, it's a titanic clash. Sparks fly as the actresses perform one of the greatest fight scenes ever filmed, made all the better by their performances. Notice Yeoh's growing frustration and struggle to be merciful while the younger actress swings between frightfulness and whiny arrogance. It's riveting.
That Zhang Ziyi deserved Oscar consideration for her performance is a given. Out of the two women, she's the one who received more awards attention, though Michelle Yeoh shouldn't be overlooked. Her disciplined delineation of Shu Lien's emotional journey is breathtaking. It takes tragedy to finally break her composure and to see her lose it is a sight to behold, horrible and mesmerizing in equal measure. She goes from panic to teary hopefulness and tired acceptance. Her final words to Jen are a punch to the stomach, delivered with the weariness of one whose heart was broken and doesn't wish that sort of pain upon anyone else.
Be it in balletic fights or paroxysms of repressed passion, Michelle Yeoh and Zhang Ziyi were Oscar-worthy and a key to Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon's phenomenal success worldwide.