The Flowers of War

Zhang Yimou might be one of the most versatile and prolific Chinese directors of his generation. Yet for its ambitious scope, The Flowers of War is one of his lesser efforts.

It’s a contrived look at wartime heroism taking place during the Japanese attack on Nanjing during 1937, which ranks as one of the darkest moments in China’s history.

Specifically, the story is about an alcoholic American mortician named John (Christian Bale), who arrives amid the casualties and carnage with shady opportunistic motives.

He claims to be in town to bury a priest, but soon finds himself trapped inside of a church with a strange combination of convent students and prostitutes who fled a nearby brothel. He poses as a priest to buy some time in his makeshift safe haven, in an attempt to figure out a method to bring the women to safety.

The film opens with an extended graphic battle sequence that showcases the best of what the film and its director can be. It is extravagantly shot, with slow-motion close-ups of bullets and blood, while conveying the horror of the conflict through the eyes of the innocent victims.

When the bullets stop flying, however, the film loses its way. The script by Liu Heng (The Story of Qiu Ju), adapted from a novel by Yan Geling, is unfocused and even downright silly as it detours into various narrative tangents. A romantic subplot borders on poor taste, and the narration is mostly irrelevant.

Bale is one of only two Americans in the cast (the other is Paul Schneider, popping up briefly as a colleague who offers John a chance to escape), and he gives a powerful performance as a man who finds redemption amid unlikely circumstances.

Many of the Chinese and Japanese actors speak English in the film, which is awkward and distracting as some obviously don’t feel comfortable with the dialogue. It makes for an excuse to eliminate the language barrier while sacrificing a level of authenticity in the process.

The Flowers of War has some poignant moments, and others that are unsettling, but never becomes the sort of handsomely mounted yet sensitively crafted war epic to which it aspires.

Rated R, 146 minutes.