Wicked passion and deceptive intrigue among sensational visual splendour and lush excess are the hallmarks of Zhang Yimous latest period film, Curse of the Golden Flower. It is an overwhelming and breathtaking film, set in the turbulent times of the Later Tang Dynasty. It is as full of murder, incest, rebellion and adultery as it is of the most lavish sets and scenes I have ever witnessed.

It is mostly set in the Forbidden Palace of the Emperor Ping (Chow Yun-Fat). The story is focused on the Empress (Gong Li) and her three prince sons in order of ascension, Wan (Ye Liu), Jai (Jay Chou), and Yu (Junjie Qin). It is days before the Chrysanthemum Festival held on the 9th day of the 9th month, which is an annual celebration where families reunite to celebrate their filial bonds and share a good meal and festivities. In this time of reunion, rebellion is at hand as secrets are revealed and alliances shattered. I feel that giving any more away would ruin some of the film, so you will have to just come along.

The one issue I have is that the film's melodramatic nature stifles one's ability to be drawn into the film early on, but then you are rewarded for your involvement with a very engaging storyline and some of the most impressive live battle scenes ever. This is one film you have to see on the big screen, and you won't regret it. '

Songlian (Gong Li), a young Chinese girl, is sold by her mother to a rich, old man (thanks mum), in order to become the latest of his four wives. While initially captivated by the luxuries of this closed-in little world, she soon discovers that such luxury is fragile - the fate and well-being of each wife becomes dependant on the whim of their master, and power is symbolised each night in the raising of a red lantern outside the rooms of whichever concubine is to be honoured by her masters company. Songlian is inevitably drawn into the intrigue of the manipulative, often brutal games played by the wives and their servants in their competition for the master's affections.Directed by Zhang Yimou, Raise the Red Lantern is a visual feast, drifting through themes of season, the darker side of human nature and the dichotomy of beauty and danger. I saw it for the first time years ago, and its images and motifs have stayed with me since then.The story is told entirely from the perspective of the women - the master is for the most part kept hidden from the audience, and in this way remains an almost mythical presence in the household. The performances are striking, and the direction, such as one might expect from the filmmaker behind Hero, House of Flying Daggers and The Curse of the Golden Flower, is elegant and memorable, a riot of colour.'