At the heart of The Go Master is an amazing scene where a game is interrupted by a nuclear explosion. The atomic bomb is dropped on Hiroshima, the city where the game happens to be taking place. After the white-out and a blast which reduces the flimsy Japanese walls to debris the adjudicator imply dusts himself off and says ‘Let the Game Resume’. This is the most dramatic of a number intrusions that come between Wu Qingyuan and his attempts to remain focussed on his religion and the chess-like game of Go.

Tian Zhuangzhuang’s reflective, slow-paced biopic privileges audiences already familiar with the life of Wu Qingyuan. A Chinese-born prodigy who became supreme champion of the Japanese national game, Wu moved to Japan at an early age and never returned to live in China. Beginning in the 1930s and continuing through the 1950s, the film portrays wars, religious exploitation and serious illness as intrusions with which Wu is forced to contend.

Intrusion is a familiar theme in Tian Zhuangzhuang’s work. A major Fifth Generation director whose 1993 film Blue Kite was banned in China for its depiction of the upheavals of the Chinese Cultural Revolution (1966-76). Tian was prevented from making films for nearly ten years, until Springtime in a Small Town, released in 2001.

Wang Yu’s eloquent cinematography is given full rein in a variety of settings, from the woodland hideout of the Jiko religious sect through formal interiors and elegant ritual to seascapes and snow-swept mountain roads. It is also effective in the superbly directed action sequences such as the police assault on the hide-out and a series of panic-inducing air–raids.

In a cultural context where feelings are implicit rather than expressed, landscape and weather correlate with states of mind. A backdrop of roaring waves reflects inner turmoil whilst bleak brown tones of an autumn forest depict rural hardship. The anguish of exile and the pull of nationality is demonstrated when Wu rushes into a room where Japanese students are celebrating only to see that the revellers are carrying a map on which captured Chinese towns are highlighted.

The austerity of a film about a man devoted to a board game is softened by Tian’s ability to draw inspired performances from his actors, especially in the developing relationship between Wu (Chang Chen) and his Japanese wife (Keiko Matsuzaka) from their first meeting. Particularly moving is the use of framing when Wu is reunited with his wife after a separation and gesture as Wu encounters his newly-born son, rubbing his hands to warm them before touching the child. Supporting roles are also strong whilst remaining unobtrusive, and Wu himself appears in cameo as an old man looking back in retirement. Emi Wada’s costumes enhance the stylised elegance of the performances.

Wu Ling's soundtrack accompaniment to tense games between Wu and a series of increasingly eminent opponents is for the most part silence punctuated by single piano notes or cello chords. Otherwise, natural sounds of rain and birdsong predominate during rural wanderings.

The main drawback for a first viewing of the film is the obliqueness of events whilst occasional onscreen quotations from Wu’s writings are distracting. The main strength of the film, its visual virtuosity combined with contemplative pace, is more apparent on a second viewing.


The Go Master is part of a retrospective of Tian Zhangzhuang’s work in Spotlight Beijing: China in London Film Season 20th March -10th April at the ICA