With the benefit of hindsight, The Last Emperor seems like undeniably ripe Oscar-bait: a sad, very human story at its core, one little-known to modern audiences and with sweeping historical significance. It is also rich in period detail, exquisitely designed and photographed; always a hit with stodgy old Academy voters, right? Well, if memory serves, James L. Brooks' Broadcast News was a can't-miss favorite--which lost out on all seven of its nominations--while Moonstruck and Fatal Attraction brought real crowd-pleasing competition as well.
In the end, with Peter O'Toole in a supporting role as its only star power, The Last Emperor managed to take the prize in every one of the nine categories in which it was nominated. Even Talking Heads frontman David Byrne went home with an Oscar, for his contribution to the musical score.
(side note: Wall Street, RoboCop, and The Untouchables were also winners that night: Such a year!)
While not structurally radical (it begins with a failed suicide and unfolds in a series of flashbacks, Amadeus-style), the script does provide a fascinating portrait of one of the twentieth century's most powerful men, Emperor Pu Yi, set against the rise of Communism. The greatest triumph of Bernardo Bertolucci's The Last Emperor however is in the execution, a sumptuous production that treats the eyes to sights never before seen outside China's Forbidden City, where the film was shot. This is old-school epic filmmaking, too, so every one of the thousands of extras is a real person in a meticulously recreated costume, not some computer-generated doppelganger.
An interesting footnote to the Last Emperor legend is the pseudo-controversy of the "Director's Cut." Created as a stipulation of the original contract, a four-hour TV version (actually 218-and-a-half minutes to leave room for the commercials) was edited together first, before Bertolucci shaped his film in earnest for theatrical release.
Another flashback happens here, an additional meeting or conversation remains there, all of which was scripted and serves its purpose… but was it all necessary to the story? The already substantial movie unfolds more slowly that way of course, and was once dubbed "boring" by the director himself. This was the edition that was previously released on the 1999 Artisan DVD. While it was in fact cut by the director, with further editing for content to meet TV standards, his undoubtedly preferred version clocks in at 163 minutes, the one that first brought the movie worldwide acclaim.
The Picture
That old Artisan disc was notoriously noisy, grainy and soft, after unfortunately cramming nearly four hours onto a single DVD-9. Cinematographer Vittorio Storaro personally supervised the newly restored high-definition transfer of the theatrical version for Criterion, which is nothing short of stunning. Storaro very deliberately composed for an unusual aspect ratio of 2:1, with Bertolucci's approval, and the two stand by this 2:1 DVD presentation despite previous incarnations at more common 2.35:1 for 35mm, cropped to 2.20:1 for 70mm prints. So there.
Right from the graphics of the opening credits we are struck by the vibrancy of the colors, with deep blood reds mere minutes later. Shadow detail is outstanding in fire-lit nighttime scenes, although overall the image is still a tad soft, limited certainly by the original film elements and the realities of DVD technology. (At press time, The Criterion Collection had still not announced a commitment to Blu-ray.) Even so, the movie often plays like a work of art come to life.
The Sound
This movie pre-dates theatrical Dolby Digital by about five years, and so rather than reinvent the wheel for home video, Criterion has stuck with the original Dolby 2.0 mix of the film. (It did cop the Best Sound statue after all.) There is a simple clarity and solid overall presence in this track, with adequate dynamic range. Not demo material, but appropriate to the film and again, true to its source.
The Extras
The extended TV version fills Disc Two, and while it too has been restored and remastered, I recommend it for curious completists only, for the reasons noted above. It is also highly, visibly compressed once again. The behind-the-scenes supplements are a generous combination of new and old though, starting with the commentary track for the theatrical cut on Disc One. Recorded in 2003 and 2007, the track is populated by the director, the producer, the co-screenwriter, plus co-composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, who also played Amakasu in the film.
"The Italian Traveler: Bernardo Bertolucci," begun in the '80s but completed this year, looks at the role that geography played in the director's decision making. Both the 1986 "Bernardo Bertolucci's Chinese Adventure" and the 1987 installment of the British South Bank Show go in-depth on the East-meets-West production, while a 1989 Late Show: Face to Face interview offers a different perspective from Bertolucci. A new documentary pulls together Storaro, editor Gabriella Cristiani, costume designer James Acheson, and art director Gianni Silvestri for their reflections, while Byrne and historical scholar Ian Buruma offer their own independent musings. Every one of the participants is passionate on his/her subject. As with many Criterion sets over the past few years, a handsome companion book is also included.
Final Thoughts
The high-def handwriting is on the wall, so might The Last Emperor turn out to be the distinguished Criterion Collection's last "It" DVD? If so, they chose a worthy title, and have given it one of the most elaborate special editions in their glorious history of special editions.
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